Alise O'Brien
Perched next to each other on a sofa, radiant from the light pouring into the sunroom, newlyweds Diane Breckenridge and Ray Barrett clearly belong together; they look perfect, surrounded by ferns and plantation shutters and white cabinetry, she in a sherbet pink pullover, he in a pale green sweater-vest. We know that Ms. Breckenridge is crazy for color — that's been her calling card as a designer for the past 23 years — but they certainly didn't get up this morning plotting to look so fabulous in their sunroom. The thing you need to know about these two is that they're not uptight; they live life as it occurs, love it when their house is full of grandchildren. And you'd best take your coffee in careful sips, or some witty comment might have you accidentally taking it up your nose.
A few years ago, though, both were recently widowed. Ms. Breckenridge had just lost her husband, developer Don Breckenridge, the visionary who believed in downtown before it was fashionable. Mr. Barrett, the founder of Landshire Food Systems (the company that brought sub sandwiches to convenience stores) and the founder and chairman of Biomedical Systems, had lost his wife, Jeannine, not long before that. Because they were part of the same circle of friends, Ms. Breckenridge says the two just "got thrown in the back seat together" during social outings. Then, one day, Mr. Barrett asked Ms. Breckenridge: Would you please help me redo my family room? She resisted. After all, this was the house that he and his late wife had shared since 1969; out of a sense of respect, she demurred. He persisted. And she finally, tentatively agreed.
So the floors were stripped, and new furniture was upholstered in Scalamandré fabric. Perhaps Ms. Breckenridge had an intuition of what was in store — the peonies-and-pheasants pattern is the perfect balance between masculine and feminine. Still, this was Mr. Barrett's house, so she created a "man's room" for him nearby, using an English hunt theme, with dark woods. And she updated the late-'60s brick fireplace ... by painting it a light cream. "The fireplace is beautiful," Mr. Barrett says. "It used to be natural brick. But I have to admit that when she began painting it ... well, let's just say it gave me many extra heartbeats," he laughs.
But, says Mr. Barrett, what does he know? He has no head for these things. "People say the house 'flows,'" he chuckles. "Whatever that means." Ms. Breckenridge looks past his self-deprecation. "He's better at this than he lets on," she counters. Perhaps he also knew full well what he was doing when he had his then-decorator and future bride start working in the heart of the house: "Once I'd done the family room," Ms. Breckenridge says, eyes wide, "I couldn't not do the rest of the house — see how it flows together? It just would have looked odd ... " So Mr. Barrett petitioned her to keep up the good work. "For a while, I just ignored that Ray was asking me to do the whole house," she sighs. Once again, she thought hard about it — and relented.
It was house as courtship. One of the next updates was the kitchen, a very domestic space. Treading lightly, Ms. Breckenridge didn't replace the cabinetry, but had the cupboards painted a buttery yellow and used soft gold stripes on the walls. She did replace the top on the kitchen island, though, after finding a luminous piece of green granite she couldn't resist using. Rather than just using it chock-a-block square, Ms. Breckenridge had delicate curves carved into each corner. "It just jumped out at me at the granite yard," she says, running her hand over the surface. This kitchen, she says, is now social-gathering central, especially when the family — four grown children and 17 grandchildren — is in the house.
Like most couples, the two have created their own private code words, of which one is "uglies," Mr. Barrett's term for plain brown furniture, which Ms. Breckenridge transforms into Cinderella pieces with paint and her unerring designer's eye. One of the most stunning is in the sitting room.
"It was just a big, brown cabinet," Ms. Breckenridge says. "But I loved the curls in the line and the height — it's 42 inches — so I had one of my artists come in and paint it and added the cabinet to the top." Now it's an appropriate spot for Ms. Breckenridge to show off art glass and china. The other linguistic shift, Mr. Barrett says, was more recent, as the house approached completion. "We no longer have a basement," he chuckles. "It's now the 'lower level.'"
But it was the upper level that cemented their relationship. Just as Ms. Breckenridge was reticent about tearing out the kitchen cabinetry, when the time came to redo the second story, she and Mr. Barrett were most definitely a couple. At his urging, she began to take more dramatic steps: Out came walls, doors and closets, with the detritus thrown down a chute from the second-story window. "That's how we got rid of the furniture, too." Mr. Barrett winks. Ms. Breckenridge scolds him, though she can't suppress a smile: "Hey! That's not true."
Upstairs, each bedroom shines with that signature Breckenridge eye for color, even when she deviates from the soft, bright colors she's known for. In the guest bedroom, the theme is romantic Victorian gazetteer. What looks like a stack of antique suitcases is actually a dresser. The striking headboard, Ms. Breckenridge says, was "another one of my uglies," a dull brown headboard, painted black, then covered with chocolate, red and yellow flowers to match the Ralph Lauren bedding. Down the hall, a kids' room with double beds takes denim as its color and textile cue. Once you step through the double doors of the master bedroom, though, you'll see Ms. Breckenridge's signature palette once more. In this case, it's rich Parisian turquoise and silky cream, with the mirrored vanity and bedside stands adding just the right touch of glamour; the vanity area and Jack-and-Jill bath use the same color scheme. "Beautiful and livable — that's the key," Ms. Breckenridge says of her design philosophy, one that she employed when turning the 6,000-square-foot downtown loft she once called home into a cozy domestic space — in spite of the 18-foot-high windows.
"At first, I had no intentions of moving," Ms. Breckenridge says. "I loved my condo. My dog loved it! But I'd had a home in West County previously, so it was easy to come back here." (Her snowy-white bichon frisé, Wilsey, lying at ease at her feet, clearly agrees.)
When Ms. Breckenridge finally moved in, her baby grand piano came with her. Much of her furniture, however, did not; most of what is here is Mr. Barrett's existing pieces, repainted or reupholstered. Even the patio furniture got the Breckenridge treatment — it was repainted black and outfitted with new cushions — as did the flower beds.
"Ray's never seen so many flowers in his life," Ms. Breckenridge laughs. Like her taste in houses, her preferences in garden florals favors the classic, colorful and warm. Pots of hot-pink geraniums, rosy coleus and black-eyed Susans cheerfully bloom from the beds; a new fountain trickles nearby. (Though Mr. Barrett defers to Ms. Breckenridge when it comes to planting, he's the king of the barbecue grill when the weather is warm.)
It was out here on the patio, actually, that the couple publicly celebrated their marriage last July, after a private (and barefoot) ceremony on the beach at Amelia Island. "There were 200 people," Ms. Breckenridge (now officially Mrs. Barrett) remembers, "and kids everywhere!" The remodeled house, which, like the courtship, had taken a little more than a year to develop, was ready to hold everyone. But Mr. Barrett had one more thing up his sleeve. Rather than kowtowing to that old bromide about diamonds being a girl's best friend (he knows his girl is creative and not your average Betty), he found a spectacular wedding present for his bride. After 17 years in Clayton, Breckenridge Interiors has moved into a new building, as white and pretty as a wedding cake, on Lindbergh near Chaminade High School. For a firm that does everything from room design to picking just the right drapery fringe, the extra space will be a godsend. Mr. Barrett says he'd love to see his wife show off her skills with the uglies, too, by displaying a half-done piece so clients can see just how dramatically she can make over a piece of homely furniture. Like any good husband, he knows, through and through, how to make his love happy.
"Our clients," Ms. Breckenridge says, "are what keep me getting up in the morning. And sometimes" — she looks at Mr. Barrett with a sly, coquettish grin — "we even marry them."
