‘Save and splurge,’ says Eddie Ross
EDDIE ROSS RETURNS TO HIS HOMETOWN TO SPREAD HIS ‘SAVE AND SPLURGE’ PHILOSOPHY
‘THIS IS A PROCESS,’ HE REMEMBERS SAYING AT THE TIME HE AND HIS PARTNER JAITHAN KOCHAR BEGAN THE EXTENSIVE REBIRTH OF THEIR HOME. ‘LET’S TAKE IT BIT BY BIT, PIECE BY PIECE.’ AND APPARENTLY, SHOP UNTIL YOU DROP.
To hear design master Eddie Ross tell it, the fun of decorating your home begins with scavenging. According to the epic tale that Ross told his audience at a recent presentation at the Greenwich Botanical Center, there isn’t a tag sale that he misses — if he can help it — from Pennsylvania and New Jersey to New York and Connecticut. He never really goes “scouting” with a particular item in mind. His finds, he said, are serendipitous discoveries that reworked, recovered, repainted, reupholstered, restored or retooled and repaired harmonize seamlessly together in his 1923 center-hall Colonial, Edgewood Hall.
For sure, Ross’s home, as evidenced in the slides he showed, is a riotous blaze of color, texture and structure, crafted by a mantra he described as “save and splurge.” In other words, buy cheap at the second-hand outlets, then get the experts to do some incredible restorations.
“This is a process,” he remembers saying at the time he and his partner Jaithan Kochar began the extensive rebirth of their Wayne, Pa., home. “Let’s take it bit by bit, piece by piece.” And apparently, shop until you drop.
You need to be fearless if you peruse the flea markets, thrift shops, Salvation Army stores, and antiques galleries with Ross on one of his occasional tours. He moves — and talks — fast. He admitted that it takes “legwork” to accomplish his design epiphany. So don your sneakers and forget everything you ever learned because you are going to see things with new eyes under his tutelege.
A raconteur with an infectious sense of humor and an eclectic playfulness, Ross describs his life as a designer. He regales his audience with some triumphs of his perambulations (a mahoganyveneered dresser now recast with high gloss red paint and grasscloth; a pair of barrel chairs reupholstered in material found in New York’s fabric district; a pair of old lamps updated simply with drum shades gussied up with metallic trim). Yes, there were mistakes, like the handsome set of blue pendant lights that, when lit, bathed an upstairs sitting nook into what he hilariously described as “a meth lab haze.” The lights stayed, however, as ceiling ornamentation, while illumination was afforded by several strategically placed wall sconces.
Ross’s career pivoted from catering with Sue Scully in Greenwich, where he grew up to, writing about design in magazines to staging events at his Maximalist Studio in Philadelphia. His is a saga of what he has found while decor foraging, where he has found a particular treasure, how he has placed it in his home so that it looks not only as if it belongs there but also that it has a story to tell. His slides tantalized his audience with rooms awash in brilliant colors. Every room can be beautiful, he said, even a laundry room. Yes, a laundry room.
“I do think in my past life,” he says to explain his fascination with laundry rooms, “I did work in Downton Abbey.” The audience burst into laughter with him. “I love doing laundry,” he continues. “I wanted a place that I would love to be in —
with a nod to Edgewood’s ancestry.”
So Edgewood Hall has a laundry room that is posh enough to show off in magazine layouts (he has worked as a design, decorating and food editor for Better Homes & Gardens, Food Network, Martha Stewart Living and House Beautiful magazines). The floor of Moroccan tiles informs the spatterware wallpaper while wall sconces become objets d’art. In a nod to the house’s past, there’s even a wood pulley system for a drying rack.
In his denim jacket and jeans, plaid shirt, tortoise-rim glasses, three gold rings on the middle finger of his left hand, silver bracelets on this right wrist and raspberry-pink loafers on his feet, Ross was a personification of the same philosophy he espouses for design: Be your own person and don’t hesitate to ignore trends like the gray/white/cream palette that turned homes into theatrical showrooms. And mix like crazy.
Several years ago, Ross and Kochar wrote a book about the rejuvenation of Edgewood Hall. In the pages of “Modern Mix” readers learn about fabrics and furnishings, how to set a table that dazzles guests, how to restore everything you spy—and buy—on your flea market jaunts. Blankets become tablecloths, sheets become canopies, chess pieces become table art. Flatware is presented in celery vases, compotes are balanced on cake pedestals. Your senses get so charged leafing through the book, you’ll need a tranquilizer to quell your beating heart. A martini would help, as well.
In the introduction to his book, Ross writes that “there isn’t a school that will teach you how to create a rich layered mix at home with castoffs you find at a flea market. There are no classes … on what to look for at a thrift shop to add Park Avenue flair to your parties. I learned about this stuff on the job.” And then he proceeds with instructions to guide you to “incorporate personal style with chic and accessible finds.”
The only thing missing from the book? A list of resources of professional craftsmen to turn your finds into treasure. Ross will just have to publish a pamphlet with the information, preferally one to give to each attendee as a gift at his next presentation.