In the world of design and interiors, collaborations are now so commonplace that they have become the stuff of comedy. In the brilliant new TV series Amandaland, the main character even refers to her job at a local kitchen and bathroom shop as a “co-lab”. However, I do think that the collaboration between designer and client — often overlooked and underestimated — deserves to be taken more seriously.
Very often when people talk to me about my interior design business, they will sympathise that it must all be terrific apart from the clients. But the client is the most important part: their contribution, whether positive or negative, has the most direct impact on the end result, however lofty the designer. It is a delicate balance of both parties being involved and both parties knowing when to sit back.
It is very hard to design without the input of the person who is going to live in the house; it is also quite hard to decorate for oneself without someone to bounce ideas off. So a client who is not interested, hard to get hold of or who has an entourage of staff to protect them from the outside world can be impossible to create a real paradise for.
I love the back and forth. One of my most successful jobs was in California for a client who was definitely part of the team. He ultimately wanted what Gil Schafer (the architect) and I had to offer, but he was meticulously involved. It was fun, if challenging at times, when he would want to continue to “noodle” things that I definitely considered cooked. We had tremendous debates on subjects such as dark walls and window frames painted in dark colours. But all the time we were “noodling”, his inquiring mind was learning rather than dismissing ideas he didn’t know or understand.
And of course there were things he taught me — mostly about allowing a client to bring to the party the stuff that I, as the designer, don’t necessarily like. It is one of the greatest lessons I have learnt from all the people who have hired me. They all bring stuff with them — or at least you hope they do. And while there are almost always times when I wince slightly at said items, as a whole, rooms are always better for the mix. They can be hollow places when designed entirely by a professional guided by the accepted good taste of a single eye and a particular moment in time.
If I were to create the perfect client, they would have a sense of what they like and don’t like and would be quite fearless. Very often when a client is unsure and nervous of their taste, of getting it wrong or of how it all might appear to their friends, they can stunt the process. A lot of what goes into a room is in the end subliminal — you don’t notice elements as isolated features, just as part of the mix. I find this with a lot of specialist painting. And pattern or wallpaper often add a delicate layer rather than being the main event.
Without pictures or accessories a home can look like a furniture showroom. For some clients, the most frightening leap of all is painting the architectural detailing in a dark colour. With any of these additions, I can hear a client saying: “oh no, we don’t need to do that yet” or “no, no, that sounds like too much”. But without them the room is just unfinished.
Earlier this year in the US, I was given a tour of an incredible house decorated by Emma Burns of Colefax & Fowler. It had creativity, joy, beauty, excellence and amazing detail. It was clear that the project had been a true collaboration. A lot of the contents had been bought by my hostess who clearly has wonderful taste, but it had then been taken by Burns and turned into something magnificent. The end result belonged to them both, Burns as curator and choreographer, her client as patron and collector. Confidence and trust were crucial to its success.
While I was renovating my own apartment, there were times when I found myself in the client’s seat and I didn’t find it all that comfortable. I was quite surprised at not being in total control. Even if I had total control of, say, the building work, I wouldn’t have known what I was doing. I had to trust the professional I was working with — trust issues, gulp — and if I had a strong opinion that proved a struggle. The whole experience left me with quite clear insight to what it must be like sitting on the opposite side of the table. Often I can’t understand why I am having to cajole and persuade someone to do something that, to me, seems completely straightforward and obvious — but to my client is completely alien and fills them with fear that it might be awful and left with them for the rest of time.
Trust is the most important feature of the client/designer bond — and I suppose as with all relationships, that comes with a bit of time. Which is also why designing a room or a property doesn’t happen all that quickly. The hardest part is keeping an open mind while something you had never thought of is being suggested. If you can remember that no one will force you to have anything you don’t like in your home, it might make it easier to take a really good look at a new idea before discounting it.
Rita Konig is the founder of Rita Konig Studio
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