This is going to be the little house that breaks us. That’s what ran through designer Laura Lubin’s head as she camped out in a tiny hotel room with a very large dog (a Bernese named Harmony), a very tall man (her husband and business partner, Oliver), and a very early riser (their eight-year-old daughter, Emery). The owner of Nashville-based Ellerslie Interiors, Lubin wound up in said room after ditching what she and Oliver thought would be their forever home—a just-renovated, 6,000-square-foot stunner with a three-car garage—in favor of a small cottage that was close to her daughter’s new school. Two days after moving in, the family discovered a particularly virulent recluse spider infestation. Cue 12 weeks of tenting and fumigating—and one very long hotel stay.
“We’ve renovated large-scale properties and done so many big projects, so it was kind of unbelievable that this tiny house was the one that felt insurmountable,” says Lubin. “My mother predicted we’d only last six months. Truthfully, I thought we’d land, do the renovation, and then find our next forever home nearby.”
But once the spiders were vanquished and everyone settled in, something started to shift. The house, set in Nashville’s picturesque three-square-mile enclave of Belle Meade, had been designed by Edwin Keeble, a locally famous architect. Surrounded by mature trees, it was compact but graceful, with a lovely scale to the rooms, which were flooded with a stunning amount of natural light. With fewer than 2,400 square feet to inhabit, Lubin’s daughter and husband were suddenly more present, creating a constant sense of cozy, sun-drenched warmth. “At first, it felt weird to use our dining room every day, to not have a big kitchen with an island where Emery could sit and eat her eggs in the morning,” says the designer. “But I realized I was always doing something else. Now I hang out with her and have a cup of coffee, and everything feels so much more intentional.”
“We wanted it to feel like a turn-of-the-century cupboard but also have enough storage for day-to-day life,” says Lubin of the kitchen cabinets, fabricated locally by Old Town Millworks; the brass-accented range is ILVE.
ANNIE SCHLECHTER
Every square inch of space is maximized in the scullery, which combines a laundry room (doors can slide out to hide the washer and dryer), mud room, prep kitchen, and pantry; the chandelier is Aerin for Visual Comfort; backsplash tile and countertops, Artistic Tile; washer and dryer, LG.
ANNIE SCHLECHTERAnd what a dining room it is. Visually delicate and presided over by a tree that arches across a corner (courtesy of a wallpaper mural created by artist Colette Cosentino for Schumacher), it’s visible from 80 percent of the living space and sets the tone for the entire home. “I kept playing around with how to give it a great design aesthetic and story but not feel try-hard and heavy,” says Lubin. “It’s a bungalow in a very traditional old part of Nashville. That’s the story I wanted to tell, but it was a challenge.” The room also presented a spatial puzzle: Because it sits just off the front entry and connects to the kitchen and family room, it sees a lot of foot traffic, and its narrow proportions could have made it resemble a hallway. After a long search, Lubin found an oval table with a solid base that would provide the anchoring weight the space needed; cane-backed chairs provide a counterbalancing lightness.
The family room, meanwhile, functions as both the main informal hang-out space and entertaining area. Lubin applied her signature thoughtful and fuss-free approach, with furniture that beckons for cozy gatherings but still feels plenty refined. “It’s sort of like entertaining: There’s a way to throw a beautiful party and there’s a way to make people feel oppressed—like they shouldn’t touch anything or drink anything—and they can both happen within a very small margin of error,” she says. “We want people to come in and experience comfort and know that this is our home, we live in it, and we’re telling the story of what matters to us.”
Similarly, Lubin kept the century-old wide oak flooring throughout the first floor, taking pains to match its look with new herringbone hardwood laid in the kitchen, and restored it all with a natural linseed oil finish to make sure it would last for another 100 years. “I’m a pretty strong preservationist, and I have a certain amount of sentimentality,” she notes. “There have been a lot of families in this home, those floors have seen a lot of days, and if they’ve made it this long, why would I think I’m the one who should remove them?”
As for that earlier prediction that she wouldn’t last six months in the house? “It’s been kind of a backwards love story,” Lubin says. “But I think we’ll stick around.”
THIS ARTICLE ORIGINALLY APPEARED IN VOLUME 17 OF FREDERIC MAGAZINE. CLICK HERE TO SUBSCRIBE!



























