The Manhattan ballrooms that became pillars of the Gilded Age are few and far between these days. (Temple Emanu-El now occupies the site of Mrs. Astor’s legendary one.) But on the second floor of a Beaux Arts building uptown, one grand salon serves as home to Remy Renzullo, a decorator with a soft spot for aristocratic interiors. While the space’s scale has not quite survived—it was carved into apartments long ago—its ambience remains, with lofty ceilings and original stained glass.
There are few better suited to occupy the one-bedroom than Renzullo. Though still in his 20s, he is an old soul, with a hush-hush clientele that might well have been pulled from The Four Hundred, were the society record still around. Fittingly, he happened upon the dwelling not online but at a dinner party hosted by two friends who occupied both this unit and the one next door, then combined. “I told them, ‘This is my dream apartment. If you ever move, let me know,’ ” he recalls. “One day they said, ‘It’s yours if you want it.’ ”
Three years since moving in, he’s made it every inch his own. The great room doubles as entertaining space and office, with walls painted in Etruscan red. “My painter jokes that I only like muddy colors,” says Renzullo. “If a room is dark, own it.” Furnishings are a charming hodgepodge of heirlooms and auction finds. The sofa, covered in a Bennison fabric, was crafted by his furniture-maker father and originally sat in Renzullo’s Connecticut childhood home. An 18th-century Spanish farm table, meanwhile, regularly reveals both beautiful breakfastscapes and piles of fabric swatches. Artwise, he is drawn to the Spanish and Italian Baroque. “For a young person with a budget, there’s more value to collecting Old Masters than contemporary or modern right now,” he explains. In his country-style kitchen, refrigerator magnets offer a window onto his wish list.
“It’s about making a space feel livable,” remarks Renzullo, who credits his aesthetic to his New England roots. “I grew up in this Anglo-American-y, threadbarish but still beautiful environment. I don’t like anything that looks studied.” His mother, a onetime decorator, remains a source of inspiration, though it’s hard to miss the John Fowler notes. “We’re all Anglophiles in my family. The English do unfussy better than anybody.”
It’s no wonder Renzullo encourages his clients to make house calls. “This place conveys a real sense of my style,” he says. “I don’t believe any room is ever done. You live with it, see what works, and make changes accordingly.” There are of course some drawbacks to operating a fledgling business out of one’s home. He notes with a laugh that meetings are best in the morning: The apartment faces an interior courtyard and “has appalling natural light.” So office hours end early. “By 6:30 you can’t see anything. To have a conversation about wall colors doesn’t really work when you can’t see an inch in front of you.” Though the moody vibes do make the transition to cocktails an easy one. “I’ll have 30 for dinner, 40 for drinks,” he exclaims. When you live in a ballroom, who can blame you for filling it?
