With our Book Club series, we hand over the proverbial mic to our Experts—letting them share their work, thought process, and best tips, all in their own words. The following is an excerpt from Jeffrey Alan Marks’ new book, This Is Home, published this month with Rizzoli.

​

Dorothy was right: there’s no place like home.

​

So when my wonderful friends—parents of three who spend the majority of the year at their townhouse in London—had the opportunity to revamp their waterfront house in the same Southern California beach town where they both grew up, they jumped—and high. Their home sits on this magical point on a peninsula where a misty bay meets the ocean, and you can hop in and out of a Duffy boat at your leisure. However, the house had been built in the early 1990s and wasn’t living up to its locale. They’d been keeping it as a rental, and tenants left it looking like a nineteenth-century New Orleans bordello: wine-red walls, dark wood trim, flashy light fixtures, and heavy window coverings.

​

Still, the property had plenty going for it—including an oceanfront perch on three generous lots that provide expansive, lush grounds. Our goal from the start was to mix my friends’ love of English style with their deep California roots. We also added a smattering of a Saint-Tropez vibe for good, glamorous measure, as this family spends time on the Côte d'Azur every summer.

​

Arguably the biggest issue in the original home was that the primary bedroom was the darkest room in the house, with hardly any windows looking out to the water. Talk about a missed opportunity! I opened it all up and added French doors that exit onto a new wraparound terrace overlooking the Pacific. You feel like you can almost touch the boats as they whir in and out of the harbor.

​

Like a strong wave reshaping a sandy shoreline, we excised most of the downstairs to start entirely fresh. We even got rid of the sweeping entry staircase. Instead, we installed a comparatively streamlined escalier that we arranged specifically so you can see the boats bobbing at sea when you walk up the risers. It makes the rooms a note lighter, a note happier—not so serious!

​

Actually, this whole house project was largely an exercise in adding jolts of color, but not in a cloying way. We installed white oak floors, topping them with a few simple woven cotton and light wool rugs that put people at ease as they come in barefoot from the dock or beach. Where we kept some of the existing wide-plank pine, we painted it a greeny blue, watery color. (The harbor outside is not always blue: it changes in the light and sometimes skews deep forest green.) With the high gloss paint, you almost feel like you’re walking on water, and here, at the edge of the sea, you very nearly are.

​

In the kitchen, I talked them into keeping some of the brickwork. They were a little nervous about it because they loathed the original kitchen’s red brick so much, but I knew that when painted white it would be very architectural, lending the feel of an industrial warehouse in London. The trick was balancing it by opening up all the walls around the kitchen, so I blew out all the pantries and closets (as devotees of fresh fruits and vegetables, they didn’t need so much dry storage) to allow the kitchen to be one big room at the center of the home. Around it, we hung steel casement windows that allow you to peer into the adjacent living room while still making the kitchen the confined core of the house.

​

Throughout, you’ll find surfaces burnished by time—leather, wood, marble—which is part of their beauty. In a few years, each tea spot and wine ring will be less of a blot, and more of a memory.

​

Order Jeffrey’s book for more inspiration, or book a consultation with Jeffrey to get personalized advice for your space.

​