If walls could talk, oh, the stories they could tell—particularly those in the Water Mill, New York, home of interior designer Anthony Squatrito and his partner, Paul Horn. The late 18h-century cottage was in a deep state of disrepair when the couple purchased it from its 81-year-old owner, and to make matters more complicated, a historic lien on the structure imposed stringent renovation restrictions. As one of the first houses built by Hamptons settlers, it could not be altered or expanded—only preserved and restored—turning a “fixer-upper” project into an epic labor of love.
“No one could understand why we would want to tackle this and, admittedly, there were times I wondered the same thing,” says Squatrito, who enjoyed a long career with Victoria Hagan and Robert Couturier before launching his eponymous Manhattan-based firm less than a year ago. “But we wanted more than just a weekend home, we wanted a project—especially Paul. He is a banker, but loves to build things by hand. During college and briefly after, he worked in construction where he gained valuable knowledge and experience. Between the two of us, we knew we could transform it into something special.”
Over the course of five years, including two winters without heat and countless weeks without power, the couple painstakingly deconstructed the house to reveal and restore many of its original architectural features. In the kitchen, they removed the decomposed sheetrock ceiling, raised it five feet, and reused the oak beams as collar ties to brace the new cathedral ceiling. Parts of the fireplace were rebuilt using antique bricks salvaged from the old summer kitchen that had been ravaged by Hurricane Agnes in 1972. Less intensive was the process of patching and refinishing the original wide-plank pumpkin pine flooring and the solid wood interior doors. Although the exterior doors were beyond repair, the couple painted them in a vibrant shade red reminiscent of their original color.
“I loved the challenge this home presented,” Horn says. “I had worked on old houses before, but never a 225-year-old house! I felt a strong connection to the original builders and previous owners, and felt an obligation to honor them by bringing the house back to life.”
When it came time to decorate, Squatrito assembled a scheme that simultaneously felt authentic and fresh, leaning on a palette of golden yellows, warm caramels, apple greens, faded reds, and blues of every hue. The colors are woven through the linens, cottons, and velvets of the upholstery and window treatments; a purposeful hodge-podge of floral, striped, and checkered patterns are balanced by heavily textured solids. In sparsely furnished spaces, like the mudroom and stair hall, the designer used punchy William Morris wallpapers to maximize visual impact.
The walls are also enlivened with centuries worth of oil portraits and landscapes, photographs, and botanical and nautical prints with a few modern pieces thrown into the mix. Old and new lighting in rich metallics illuminate the interiors while antiques and vintage furnishings—primarily American and English, the result of “relentless shopping” at antique fairs, estate sales, and antique galleries across New York and New England during the five-year restoration period—instill them with integrity.
“As a designer, I spend every day composing beautiful rooms, but in my own home, I let the rooms shape themselves,” he says. “I buy what speaks to me then go from there, so the decorating process is more of an experiment than an approach. I appreciate the interplay between different styles and elements—old and new, masculine and feminine, rustic and refined. The mix feels natural and comfortable to me. It feels like home.”