Betty Lou Phillips - The French Connection

When it comes to producing a book, the credits are endless. Many people play a part in the success of a book.

Madge Baird has been my editor par excellence for nearly all of my seven design books. My gratefulness continues to grow for her expertise and encourage-ment, which I treasure along with her friendship. In addition, I hardly take for granted the efforts of Marty Lee, vice-president of production, Kellie Robles, director of special sales, and Dennis Awsumb, national accounts manager.

Nor do I take for granted the effort the following designers and architects put into helping create the smart, eye-catching, and satisfying rooms that make up this book: Roberto G. Agnolini, Bette Benton, David Corley, Richard Drummond Davis, Vicki Crew, Sherry Hayslip, Bree Hyatt, Karin Lanham, Heidi Ledoux, Lucy Ledoux, Holly Lydick, Tammy Michaelis, Roberta Peters, Marilyn Phillips, Alix Rico, Andrea Smith, Cole Smith, Aline Steinbach, Julie Stryker, Chris Van Wyk, Deborah Walker, and Thomas Weber.

I appreciate, too, the help of those whose educated eyes assisted on photo shoots, especially Tara Kohlbacher, Zaneta Moreno, Dianne Querbes, Paul Rico, Carrie Taylor, and Liz Lank Williamson. And, thank you, Scott Jacques, Kelly Phillips, and Alix Rico for suggesting residences to shoot.

One of the nicest aspects of writing a book is the opportunity to meet and get to know so many interesting people on both sides of the Atlantic Ocean. Special thanks, therefore, goes to those here and abroad who opened the doors to their impressive maisons and permitted me to share the architectural splendor that served as a backdrop for their style and creativity: Roberto Agnolini, Bette Benton, Tracy and Richard Cheatham, Debbie and Eric Green, Mary Alice and Scott Heape, Tavia and Clark Hunt, Heidi and Robert Lydick, Roberta Peters, Alix and Paul Rico, Aline and Erwin Steinbach, to name only a few.

Three books were of great help in deepening my understanding of two influential ladies: Madame de Pompadour: Mistress of France, by Christine Pevitt Algrant; Marie Antoinette, by Antonia Fraser; and Louis and Antoinette, by Vincent Cronin.

Also, I am indebted to my two valued assistants, whose myriad skills I cherish: Tara Kohlbacher and Janice Stuenzl.

Finally, I extend a warm thank-you to you, the reader. Your flair for fusing the accoutrements of assorted cultures was the inspiration for this book.

A resplendent bibliothque crafted in Italy true to the rare nineteenth-century originalfilled with a sprawling collection of cream ware from England is worthy of pride of place. The antique Kerman rug has a tribal pattern indigenous to the western section of Iran.

Tight of clock in the family room from Paris Antiques, Santa Fe, New Mexico.

Conventional wisdom has it that we cannot have the best of all worlds. But this is just not so. As if to prove the point, no dwelling with impeccable "bone structure," flat-screen televisions, wine cellar, and beds dressed in fine linens is complete these days without an enviable mix of treasures, however modest, culled from assorted nations circling the globe. A look around, quite simply, opened our minds to the bazaar of choices, giving us cause to disregard this widely held belief. How else to explain the revolution in our leanings, rendering loyalty solely to France pass?

The United States, of course, has long been home to a cadre of furniture designs, encouraging the embrace of whatever manner of stylish living we please. As it is, there are few taboos when either building or expanding our own empires. There are, however, ample challenges. For most, an artful mix of comfort and chic is a priority emblematic of the twenty-first century.

For a generation, at least, the assumption was that sticking to one style of furniture reminiscent of one time period was a safe bet. Whether expressing passion for Louis XV furnishings or admiration for Louis XVI and much-maligned Queen Marie-Antoinette's straight-line splendor, decorating was about one homogeneous look.

And now? Moving beyond that notion, we opt to give rooms more character. Having opened the window to a wider world where the possibilities are endless, we layer eras in a single room plus push the borders of designsculpting distinctive, pleasing interiors that are at once a bit English, a dash Swedish, a trace Italian, to say nothing about ties to other central European countries or even the Far East. Yet most living spaces are so noticeably French that no one would suspect there is tension between the United States and France over Iraq and other issues, much less a weak dollar.

Even if America has not exactly seen eye to eye with la belle France recently, a chance survey of sprawling high-rises as well as commanding mansions suggests otherwise. At the center of savvy stateside tastes are sumptuous pieces whose seductive beautyprovenance, painstaking carving, and mellow patina of ageoffer a glimpse into our souls aside from more than a modicum of pleasure.

That travel has lost some of its gleam lately is beside the point. Carrying baggage from our past, we make the French connectionfluently mixing and mingling in a way that is far from stylistically limitingsometimes satisfying our cravings close to home, other times taking far-flung journeys that revolutionize our thinking. Without reservation, we draw from a mlange of cultures, juxtaposing the best the world has to offer with the finest of the French.

Betty Lou Phillips, ASID

Author and Interior Stylist

Eighteenth-century tapestries worthy of pride of place add to the old-world panache of a stateside salon. The sofa boasts a Coraggio silk, and small pillows flaunt embroidery. The workshops of world-renowned Fortuny (on the largest pillows) are in Venice, Italy.

In a world where glitz and grandeur often pose as glamour, the French typically take a more understated approach. Never mind that Louis XIV (16431715), the Sun King, shied away from minimalist thinking. Or that he adopted a bigger-is-better, more-is-more mind-set, morphing the modest hunting lodge built by his father Louis XIII (161043) into the ostentatious Chteau de Versailles. The French Revolution quashed desire for jaw-dropping opulence and led to classic simplicity promoted by the new Republic for the benefit of all.

By all appearances well-publicized signs of American affluencesuch as bold baubles and imposing domains whose garages host high-performance cars that call further attention to one's successdo not appeal to the steely sensibilities of archetypal French aristocrats. (Although the Revolution supposedly swept away the ruling class, it seems to have not disappeared. The 2005 edition of the French social registry,