HYLAND
stands an exuberantly Rococo
French console, of 1740, richly
gilded with its original marble
top. Bradfield's seamless
addition to this ensemble is an
artifact made over two centuries
later, a Venini mirror from the
1950s composed of hundreds
of pieces of iridescent corteccia
glass. The French ormolu
clock is from yet another era,
1875, from Garrard in London.
In room after room, Bradfield
ensconces the lucky
permanent guest in the
unabashed yet refined luxury
that is his hallmark. Silk of palest
blue drapes the numerous
windows; woodwork and furniture are ivory or white, a pale
backdrop for precious works of art discreetly enshrined. The
atmosphere is one of cool, sophisticated tradition; we never
quite forget that we are in a hotel—and why would we want
to?— that this is a palatial pied a terre, replete with all manner
of services and conveniences just the tinkle of a bell away.
The suite Bradfield had to work with was a fortunate
enfilade of salon-like rooms. Given that one elegant room
opens on to the next, Bradfield unified his color schemes,
navigating his way through a plethora of blues, ranging from
the pale grey-blue velvet upholstery on the white dining
