Feature: Apartment Therapy
March 1, 2008
Some people see nothing in coincidence except the capriciousness of everyday life. Others interpret it as evidence of a cosmic or supernatural force, an unseen hand orchestrating specific experiences and meetings that guide us through our earthly journey. Whatever your personal view, it is impossible to deny that a surprising cluster of events and congruities aligned to bring Veronica Atkins, widow of the revolutionary diet doctor Robert Atkins, and designer Clodagh together.
"Clodagh and I were born in the same year," reveals Atkins. "We always say we are long-lost twins."
As far as they can tell, designer and client first came into each other’s orbits many years ago at Felissimo, a former East-West-inflected design store in New York, where Atkins had gone to hear Clodagh speak. She was so enthralled with the designer’s approach to interiors that, Atkins remembers, "I decided if I ever became rich enough, I would have Clodagh do my home. I became rich enough," she adds with a chuckle, before returning to her more thoughtful tone. "I’ve admired her work for years. It’s very serene, in such good taste; it’s comfortable and there’s a unifying theme in everything. She doesn’t overdo things. She has great respect for space."
The women did not connect until 2004, a year after Dr. Atkins slipped on ice outside his office, fell into a coma and, shortly after, passed away. The period is a blur for Atkins, but Clodagh remembers her recently widowed client showing up in her design studio and asking her to take a look at a 74th-floor midtown New York pied-à-terre Atkins wanted decorated.
The resulting interior scheme constitutes a kind of intervention. "We were grounding Veronica," explains Clodagh. "She had been through a tragedy, so we wanted the apartment to support her."
Clodagh’s first impressions of the space were visceral. "When I walked to the window I had that gut-wrench you have when you feel as if you’re going to fall into space," she recalls of the living room’s floor-to-ceiling glass. "So I designed a heavy concrete window seat to provide a sort of ground that enhances the view, but makes people feel more comfortable." To further emphasize that grounding, Clodagh suspended the bench above a bed of river rocks which, she says, "represent timelessness because they’re millions of years old."
As with any Clodagh project, a feng shui consultant (Sarah Rossbach) was brought in to assess the needs of the space. Some reconfiguring of the approximately 3,000-square-foot, three-bedroom apartment was necessary to improve the flow of energy, so Clodagh had a nine-foot opening cut into the wall separating kitchen and living room, and she created a corridor to the master suite that can be closed off from the rest of the apartment for privacy.
True to feng shui principles, Clodagh also devised subtle, decorative ways to incorporate basic natural elements. A custom concrete fountain by Robert Younger in the entry and an oversize photo of a secluded cove by Richard Misrach in the master bedroom supply the water element. The river rocks under the Younger-constructed concrete window seat bring in the earth element. And a pagoda-like tower of tiered candles—actually a ceremonial Hindu object—incorporates the element of fire and serves, says Clodagh, as "a sentry to her bedroom."
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