Photo by Kevin A. Roberts
8 a.m. Jacob Laws begins his days by letting out Henry, his boxer–Australian cattle dog mix. “He’s my fur baby,” Laws says. Then he makes his bed fastidiously, right down to the hospital corners. “My mom likes to joke that in a past life I was a chambermaid,” he quips.
9 a.m. Laws arrives at St. Louis Workout for a session with his trainer, Kelly Moran. (He slept in because his training day starts later than his usual spin class). The trainer and silks, along with meditation retreats, are part of Laws’ attempts to balance his busy life as an award-winning designer with his personal life. He’s working toward that elusive mind-body-spirit connection—although he still struggles with the meditation part. “I’m so jealous of anyone who can be under for 20 minutes. I’m, like [whispers], ‘How do you do that?’”
After class, he grabs a coffee at the “spaceship Starbucks,” near Saint Louis University, and to his delight, the person in front of him in the drive-thru pays for his drink: “Oh, this is gonna be a great day!”
Energized by the gesture, Laws returns home “super gung-ho” to sort his magazine backlog from the past two weeks, when he was on vacation. He sticks Post-Its on anything interesting, then heads to the internet to browse design sites. Drawn to a pair of Serge Roche mirrored obelisks—perfect for a project on Hortense Place—he orders them from London.
Laws lets the dog out (again); bids a good day to his partner, Michael Feldman; responds to emails; makes an order; schedules a plumber; and then eats a breakfast of fruit and Greek yogurt.
10:30 a.m. During a visit to the Design & Detail showroom, in Maplewood, Laws is sidetracked by a new line of Christian Lacroix fabrics. “It’s kind of like going to a flea market,” he says. “You have no idea how long you’ll be there.”
1:30 p.m. After a couple of hours, Laws rolls up to Park Tower, in Clayton, to evaluate a new space. He’s seeing it for just the third time, and he’s here to make lists of processes, items, and limitations. The project is in the “pre-demo” stage, with kitchen cabinets removed but no major structural changes made. He notices something new every time he visits. This time? “I hate the TV.” It has to stay, though. Maybe move it to the other wall? Perhaps diminish it? The finished project will be a utilitarian Danish Modern, Laws’ signature style. But all of his projects have a personal touch, too, he says: “If it doesn’t tell the story of the homeowners, then what’s the point?”
2:15 p.m. “Ding-dong!” calls Laws, entering the concrete-floored Bruno David Gallery, in Clayton. “Ding-dong!” responds gallery owner David. “You’re back, and you have a tan!” David exclaims. Laws is concerned that his client might find the piece recommended by their project’s architect a bit too busy. “Oh, I love this,” he says, looking at another piece, this one by Alex Couwenberg.
2:40 p.m. It’s time for a coffee at Kaldi’s. In the parking lot, he waves at a car. “Phyll!” he shouts. It’s philanthropist Phyllis Langsdorf. “Don’t you go to work anymore?” she asks. “I am at work!” he replies.
2:58 p.m. Soy latte in hand, Laws drives to Town & Country, where he’s continuing a three-year house renovation. After completing the first two floors, Laws was charged with redoing the entire house. “‘We trust you. Do what you do,’” Laws says, recalling his conversation with the owners.
He checks on the locker room and bathroom—which have recently gained fresh tile and fixtures—notes that he has to order a third pendulum lamp for the kitchenette, and adjusts a light fixture with movable arms. He heads upstairs to chat with the client, then stops mid-sentence to note, “Oh, good, they replaced this,” and readjusts the kitchen chairs so that they’re ever so slightly more rounded in relation to the table.
4:30 p.m. Laws heads out of the house and toward the car, but he’s still thinking about the project. “At the end of the day, it’s not like I go home and leave work behind,” he says. “I have fabrics and design boards and everything lying all over the dining room table right now. If it’s 8 at night and something pops into my head, I want to be able to have what’s necessary for me to document and sketch it out.”
