The Daily Telegraph - Saturday - The Telegraph Magazine
La vie en noir
With its dark palette,19th-century industrial architecture and eclectic contents, the Parisian home of this artistic director is as cool as his designs for the French store Merci. By Elfreda Pownall. Photographs by Jérôme Galland
Consider someone who eagerly displays his personal collection of ceramic herring containers, dating from 1860 to the 1950s. You might say he was a bit of an odd fsh. But if the same person also had collections of coat hangers, early American spongeware pottery, household brushes, historic wirework utensils from carpet beaters to salad baskets, 19th-century pressed glass and antique spoons you would defnitely call him an obsessive collector.
‘My friends tell me I’m a maniac,’ says Daniel Rozensztroch cheerfully, ‘but I don’t care.’ He is the artistic director of the cult Parisian household and fashion store Merci, which is also a charitable foundation, and it was here he recently displayed his herring containers. Over the years Rozensztroch has celebrated each of his collections with a dedicated book, and there have been exhibitions all round the world. But fve years ago, when he moved into this fat in the Marais area of Paris, he decided to sell the lot.
He was thrilled to fnd an 1870s industrial unit, previously a small toy factory, built at the back of a beautiful creamy stone town house built in the 1640s. ‘I am an urban being. I could only ever live in a city, but I hate cars and trafc jams. In the world today, to be able to walk everywhere you need is an extraordinary privilege. Since I moved to the Marais, there are whole days when I take no form of transport: I walk to Merci, do my shopping on foot, there are the cinema, superb little restaurants and a fabulous market – all within walking distance.’
Rozensztroch was delighted that the space was untouched. ‘It gave me the opportunity to
work with Valérie Mazerat, an architect I admire,’ he says. The result is a rectangle of exactly 100sq m (120sq yd), divided into four living areas by ‘walls’ of dark metal cupboards. ‘I didn’t want to break it up entirely,’ he explains, ‘so the cupboards don’t go right up to the ceiling. I wanted to see the curved ceiling vaults that are characteristic of this Eifel style of architecture, and the windows from everywhere in the fat.’ The wooden fooring, made from old railway-carriage foors, unifes the space and underlines its industrial feel.
You enter the fat through a door by the kitchen. And a row of fve vintage metal cupboards provides storage in the unstructured kitchen. A red Smeg fridge brings a dash of colour, and the black dishwasher and washing machine are hidden behind specially designed metal-grille cupboards.
Behind the kitchen, the dining table – two white-wood trestles, with a black metal top – is surrounded by chairs by Mathieu Matégot and Tolix. There is another splash of red in the sitting area beyond, with a vintage AA armchair, re-covered by Rozensztroch in tomato-red canvas. ‘Red is an industrial colour, after all,’ he says. The Ghost sofa, designed by his great friend Paola Navone for Gervasoni, brings a softer touch. A paper Noguchi lamp and some massive wooden jugs on a sculptor’s plinth, used as a cofee table, add their diferent textures to the mix.
A beautiful gilded 1930s lamp is a surprise, though, on the industrial metal sideboard.
‘My parents’ fat was decorated by Leleu, one of the great Parisian decorators of the 1930s, and this lamp, by Sabino, the celebrated bronze maker of that era, is all that remains of their home,’ he explains. ‘When my parents left Paris in the 1980s, to live in the Midi, all their furniture was sold of to junk shops for next to nothing – it was so unfashionable. I hung on to this one lamp. I hated it and kept it in the cellar. Many times I thought of selling it, but my friend Paola protested and made me keep it. And now, all of a sudden, after 50 years it has found its place.’
Another wall of cupboards partly separates the bedroom from this living area, and beyond it there is the bathroom, with its hydrant-style taps and locker-room feel, and the open-plan dressing room, where his clothes are arranged by colour and type. ‘It’s about making my life simpler.’
He made his life simpler in a dramatic way when he moved in. ‘I had possessions stored everywhere, but a few months living without them, while the builders worked on the fat, convinced me I didn’t need that much stuf. I borrowed an unused factory from a friend and had a car-boot sale; the queues were immense! I just kept a few of my favourite pieces. I am so happy here – every object is something I love.’ merci-merci.com