View Gallery
I can’t tell you offhand just how many houses I’ve had (could it be eight?), but I’ve only had one decorator: Richard Keith Langham, who I met in 1985. Forty years later, our collaboration persists, much to our mutual frustration. (Like Nancy Lancaster and John Fowler, we are the unhappiest unmarried couple around.) But we’ve managed to concoct some really handsome and comfortable rooms, and, I’ll admit, even had some good times along the way.
Marable and Langham found the Regency giltwood mirror at Twig in Tetbury, England; the Klismos chair comes from antiques dealer (and another close friend of Marable’s) Gerald Bland.
Francesco Lagnese
Winnie, one of Marable’s three black Labradors (“they’re the size of Black Angus cattle,” jokes Langham), awaits visitors.
Francesco Lagnese
The property on which Shadwell sits was originally purchased in 1736 by Thomas Jefferson’s father, Peter Jefferson, and is the birthplace of the former president.
Francesco LagneseLooking back, it seems like my life has gone from pillar to post and back again. Petersburg, Virginia, was my birthplace; the handsome house in which I grew up was a wedding present to my grandparents from my great-grandmother. My mother lived there her entire life. Under her reign, upkeep was not exactly a priority, and renovations were sorely needed; like a weathered beauty, the house looked best in candlelight. At my mother’s funeral in the packed living room, I remember Keith whispered to me, “These walls groan for money.”
Luckily, by that time, my own walls were not groaning. I had a big job in New York and a beautiful jewel box of an apartment overlooking the steps of the Met. It consisted of the top floor (formerly the servants’ quarters) of a Beaux Arts townhouse built by the Straus family of Macy’s. (Tragically, the couple perished on the Titanic in 1912.) The floor had not been inhabited since the 1940s, which made the restoration hell, but well worth it, thanks to Keith.
Festoon curtains in a magenta Tillett Textiles linen printed with bold eggplant stripes set the tone for the dining room. The walls, painted in All White by Farrow & Ball, are accented with a stripe of Brinjal at the top and beneath the chair rail. Above the mantel hangs a portrait of English poet Thomas Chatterton.
Francesco Lagnese
Every summer, the living room sofa and club chairs (“made four or five houses ago”) get a warm-weather makeover in duck-egg-blue linen slipcovers. Custom linen curtains in acid green—a favorite color of Marable’s—pop against walls in Farrow & Ball’s Hague Blue.
Francesco Lagnese
Sans slipcovers, the furniture shows off its original upholstery: a burnt-sugar linen velvet on the sofa, and a Tree of Life print by Claremont on the chairs. The lacquered coffee table is from And George in nearby Charlottesville; the Italian carved mirrors were purchased at Gerald Bland Inc.; pendant light, Colefax & Fowler.
Francesco LagneseStill, I found myself yearning for bucolic Virginia. I bought my first farm, Lovell, near the little town of Rapidan. The stately Jeffersonian (c. 1840) was situated on a knoll with huge trees, and I wasted no time in restoring it. A few years later, I decided to give up Wall Street and live there full-time. It turned out that farm life was not all it was cracked up to be, and it became evident that I needed a job. Washington, D.C., and a new business venture were to be my next stop.
That venture was with Jane Stubbs, a most extraordinary woman. We re-created her inimitable New York shop, Stubbs Books & Prints, on bustling Wisconsin Avenue in Georgetown. She tutored me in books, Madison Cox generously planned the garden, and Keith moved my Lovell library—lock, stock and curtains—to the new shop. I sold out-of-print books and anything else library-related, gave over-the-top book parties, and soon it was a great big hit. After six years I closed the shop, relocated to an office, and have been creating private libraries ever since.
Just off the dining room, a cozy alcove (or the properly English “snug,” per Langham) is outfitted with a sofa and custom-colored Adelphi Paper Hangings wallpaper in Marable’s beloved acid green. Ikea bookcases—stacked, embellished with molding, and painted black—create the towering faux built-ins. “It was a Covid project—I couldn’t find anyone to make new bookcases, so I used some that were already in my basement,” says Marable. The Persian Malayer rug was a point of contention between decorator and client; it was Langham who eventually won out. (“We’re both stubborn—we fight like brothers—but somehow it all ends up coming out okay,” he adds.)
Francesco Lagnese
A William IV yew wood pedestal table from Gerald Bland sits in Marable's library, surrounded by a set of Regency ebonized chairs.
Francesco Lagnese
A portrait of an Arabian stallion by John Frederick Herring, Sr., hangs above the William IV rosewood bookcase from Comer & Co.
Francesco LagneseIn the middle of all of this, I bought the most wonderful small house on Dumbarton Street. A major reconstruction followed. Keith and I did this one up to the nines. Gerry Bland and his wife, Mita, became friends, and I bought some of my best furniture from him.
I’m afraid a pattern began to develop. It shouldn’t be a surprise that several more houses followed. But then Shadwell became available. In 1757, Thomas Jefferson inherited thousands of acres from his father, with Shadwell Farm among the many parcels. In 1841—the 1840s seem to be my zeitgeist—his great-grand-daughter and her husband built a house there. Handsome, symmetrical, and stately, it was constructed with the most beautiful, now mellowed brick, which was kilned on site. It looks big, but it’s just one room deep, with a long central hall and a later addition of the kitchen and pantry—certainly enough room for me, three black labs, one obnoxious cat, and a lot of stuff.
"Shadwell has a dignified presence but is not fancy or twee."
Kinsey Marable
Fourteen years later, Virginia beckoned again. This time, it was a big Federal clapboard house (also c. 1840) in Somerset, gussied up in 1875 in the “Italianate style,” whatever that is. The crash of 2008 soon ensued, so I decided to just fill the new house up with everything from the prior three places. I loved it, but Keith thought it a mess. He turned to me once and yelled, “How in the hell do you even know which house you’re in?”
Marable acquired a number of books from Mario Buatta’s estate after the legendary designer’s passing.
Francesco Lagnese
A John James Audubon reproduction hangs in the living room.
Francesco Lagnese
The miniature horses and carriage were given to Marable, a lifelong equestrian, by his mother on his eighth birthday. The George Stubbs print depicts Gimcrack, a famous 18th-century racehorse.
Francesco Lagnese
A 1920s watercolor, perched in front of an Italian carved and weathered mirror, depicts English foxhunter Hugo Meynell.
Francesco Lagnese
A copy of a René Bouché watercolor of writer and society hostess Evangeline Bruce, acquired by Marable when he and Gerald Bland hosted an exhibition of the contents of Bruce’s Georgetown house.
Francesco LagneseKeith and I did and then re-did. The living room became the dining room, the library the living room. The dining table seats 12 uncomfortably, in the Marable way. (Copious glasses of wine quickly ease the pain.) The adjacent sitting room has my favorite Adelphi paper, custom colored by Keith. The rug is Persian, forced on me by the decorator, and I loathe it.
While the dining room is in constant play—I think I’ve painted it at least seven or eight times—the living room has remained true to its Hague Blue walls. Keith had all the sofas and club chairs made in New York for my previous houses; some have since been reupholstered, while others wear slipcovers in the summer months. Above the mantel is an immense portrait of an Arabian horse, painted in 1801 for Lady Byron’s father.
Langham cloaked the primary bedroom in a paper-backed linen windowpane found in New York’s Garment District. “It reminds me of a men’s haberdasher,” he adds. The 19th-century English painted bed was a spur-of-the-moment purchase from Sotheby’s Mario Buatta sale.
Francesco Lagnese
“I don’t really wear ties anymore, so I just hang my favorites on a chest in my dressing room,” says Marable.
Francesco Lagnese
The guest room is dressed in a vintage floral chintz by Ramm, Son & Crocker.
Francesco LagneseMy bedroom is my refuge. The star is the elegant Regency bed. It was a last-minute purchase from the Mario Buatta auction at Sotheby’s. While on the phone waiting for another lot, I had two martinis and went for it.
Shadwell has a dignified presence but is not fancy or twee. All my furniture finally lives so well here, and my prints and paintings— a combination of inheritances, purchases, and generous gifts—have never looked better than they do on these walls. After a peripatetic journey, I think I have found my soul mate. This old, graceful house is full of character and personality, with a pedigree above reproach. If only I could say the same for myself!
