British by birth but synonymous with California living, designer Peter Dunham has built a celebrated career around sophisticated-yet-casual homes bursting with color and pattern, an eponymous (and equally adventurous) fabric and wallpaper collection, and industry-favorite showrooms in Los Angeles and (as of last year) New York. Here, he traces the evolution of his decorating approach by revisiting a few of his many homes over the years, from a Hicksian boarding school room to L.A. fixer-uppers to his present-day Parisian pied-à-terre. For more tales from Dunham’s colorful life and career, pick up his debut book, The World of Peter Dunham: Global Style from Paris to Hollywood (Vendome).
Peter Dunham at his former home on Larrabee Street in Los Angeles.
AMY NEUNSINGER
Stowe School, Buckingham, United Kingdom
1977
My best friend at boarding school was Ashley Hicks, the son of the decorator David. He had all of his father’s books; when I looked through them, it was almost as if a switch was thrown. They were my first exposure to interior design and they were so exciting—this mixing of modern and old and this very crisp, disciplined, architectural approach with these great colors and geometric patterns. My dorm room was very much influenced by David Hicks and Habitat, which was the store owned by Terence Conran. I painted the walls a Chinese red lacquer color and made a couch on a platform using a flokati and floor pillows from Habitat, which were a big thing then.
Bleecker Street, New York City
1994-1996
When I moved to New York, I was selling real estate and working as an independent contractor, so I was free to travel a lot. My walk-up apartment in Greenwich Village was filled with books and stuff that I’d collected. I bought the cotton appliqué tablecloth in Egypt, and the gray bidri ware bottle is from my first trip to India in 1985. We had light on three sides, which was great, but the floors were nasty, so we covered them with sisal rugs, and the walls were very uneven, so my boyfriend at the time and I decided to paint them this kind of warm yellow. It was very nice to live with. We’d entertain lots—we’d have 60 people for Christmas or Thanksgiving. All the strays would come.
Downing Street, New York City
1996-1997
When I was about 25, I sold an apartment I had bought uptown as an investment and purchased a dilapidated house in the West Village. It was like that movie Seven with Brad Pitt—horrifying. I thought I’d find a dead person in the basement. The house had been cut up into apartments, and I turned it back into a single-family house. Along with this young contractor who had a workshop up the street, I peeled away everything—the beams, the floors—and essentially put it all back together again. I also did an enormous amount of dumpster diving—I found shutters, a fireplace surround, all the doors, handles, and paneling. And when I was ready to sell it, the first person who walked in was Kathryn Murdoch, who was James Murdoch’s fiancée at the time. When she opened the door, she said, “Ah, finally! A house with original detail.” I pinched my lips tightly, and with the money I made, I punched off to Los Angeles. I’d fallen in love with someone there, a friend of friends. On the floor is Bianca, the dog I had for almost 20 years.
Doheny Drive, Los Angeles
1998-2000
Compared to my other houses, this one probably looks the least like me. It was not a great house—when I bought it, it had ugly wall-to-wall carpeting, these gloomy, low ceilings, and this big, double-sided Flintstones-style fireplace dividing the room. I took all that out. The idea was to try to make the house the best version of itself, and to me, that meant creating something simple and cheerful, making the most of the light and the views to create a sense of airiness and a seamlessness between indoors and outdoors. I heightened the ceilings and used metal grates I found at a salvage yard to create the architecture that should have been.
Saint Ives Drive, Los Angeles
2002-2004
This was a really dumpy little two-story house that had been built into a steep hillside with a giant crawl space underneath at street level. I expanded the crawl space and turned it into a big double-height living room that was kind of my California version of Nancy Lancaster’s famous Yellow Room in Mayfair. I still had some money left from my sale to the Murdochs when I learned that Christopher Gibbs—a legendary antiques dealer I’d worshiped since I’d visited his shop in London when I was about 15—was moving from Wiltshire to Tangier and having a big sale. I went and spent literally every penny I had. I got all these treasures—those Syrie Maugham white upholstered armchairs, the tapestry, and the red Georgian desk, which I still have.
Orlando Avenue, Los Angeles
2004-2011
This was a 1920s Spanish house that was much more charming and intimate— what I’d call pokier and cottagey-er—and definitely the most historic of all the houses I’d had in L.A. up to that point. The plates are by my friend Konstantin Kakanias, an artist, and the big coral chandelier was a housewarming gift from my parents. I still own the olive wood table—it’s one of my favorite possessions. I grew up spending time in Spain, where olive wood is precious; because it’s so slow-growing, it’s a rarity to find a piece that big. And I found that giant, elongated wing sofa at the Rose Bowl and loved it instantly. I think it cost about $300. I still rue the day I sold it to a friend.
Larrabee Street, Los Angeles
2012-2015
This was my gay divorcé moment. After the breakup of a 15-year-long relationship, I needed somewhere to live while I decided if I was going to stay in Los Angeles or go back to New York. I moved into a tiny little apartment, about 400 square feet, in a historic building that predated talkies. It was airy with lovely views and a charming garden, and it just felt very safe. Some houses feel happier than others to me, irrespective of the lipstick I put on them, and this teeny apartment was joy-filled the minute I walked in.
Sixth Arrondissement, Paris
2020-Present
I still have a place in L.A. and a little rented studio in New York, where we just opened a showroom, but I also have an apartment in Paris’s 6th arrondissement that I bought in 2020. I go to France quite a lot to see my mum, my brother, and friends, and to source vintage things for my two showrooms and for design clients. My apartment, which is two maid’s rooms put together on the top floor of a building, is maybe 350 square feet, but it has two balconies, one overlooking the Seine. The living room is very light with tatami walls, and the bedroom, which is maybe nine by ten feet and wrapped in fabric, has this jewel-box feel. It’s very romantic, this Parisian garret by the river where you can see Montmartre in the distance. You feel like Mimì in La Bohème.
THIS ARTICLE ORIGINALLY APPEARED IN VOLUME 16 OF FREDERIC MAGAZINE. CLICK HERE TO SUBSCRIBE!
