Like Buatta
Moderated B y Daisy Olivera

Prince of Chintz Mario Buatta puts his unique twist on classic country design.

IN THE WORLD OF INTERIOR DESIGNERS there are many notables, many more forgettables, and only one Prince of Chintz, as he was aptly dubbed in an article years ago because of his predilection for utilizing multiple patterns of the glazed-cotton fabric of the same name. New Yorker Mario Buatta is responsible for bringing the English country house style to America in the early '60s, an era that favored a decor of rancid colors and questionable art over stately elegance. Buatta's numerous visits to England, plus a friendship with John Fowler of the legendary decorating firm Colefax and Fowler, enriched his creativity. Ironically, Fowler was known as the Prince of Decorators for his ability to finesse the grand English country house with what he called his "humble elegance"; years later, Buatta would be elevated to design royalty in much the same way. The power he wields with clients is legendary; he has been known to sour a real estate deal by pronouncing a place "all wrong," and his clients believe in him enough to walk out and continue their search for an abode that is "just right."

I discovered Buatta's adventures in decorating when I lived in Massachusetts in the '80s. I became even more of an avid fan after I met him when he lectured at The Rhode Island School of Design about 10 years ago. Not only was he a master of elegance, putting a room together as if it had existed for years, but the man is unexpectedly hilarious. I'd never seen an auditorium full of people laugh so hard during an interior design seminar. Buatta shows his disdain for the stark modern look, with which he grew up, during the presentation by indicating that the next slide is a shot of his parents' living room; all that comes up is a blank white screen. After a beat, the audience roars. Recently, he was the featured speaker at DCOTA (Design Center of the Americas) Design 2000/Blueprint for the Future exhibition in Dania. The event benefited the Miami Project to Cure Paralysis and showcased forward-thinking designs from top designers and design houses. Buatta has not only not lost his edge; he's sharper than ever, trading good-natured barbs and quips with the audience.

We chatted in the Beacon Hill showroom where his designs for John Willicomb are displayed. The high-end upholstered furniture and case goods fly out as customers appreciate Buatta's reputation as well as his attention to detail and exemplary design.

DO: I was distressed several years ago when I read that chintz was dead. Please say it isn't so.
MB: Can you imagine chintz dead? What a nonsensical statement to make! It's never been dead. What happens is the design magazines have to make a statement every month and they have to come up with a new idea. When the '80s period of conspicuous consumption was over, they had to figure out what the '90s was going to be about. But it was 1995 and people still didn't know what the '90s were about. So one of the magazine editors proclaimed that chintz was out, and in the next issue she shows tons of chintz. The same editor interviewed me for an article called "What Happened to Pretty?" [Laughs]
DO: Yes, where did pretty go?
MB: They did an issue with "today's" idea of pretty, and it wasn't pretty at all to me. Unfortunately, that's happened because of people who follow trends and only think about trends. A lot of what we see in magazines is what I call dysfunctional decorating.
DO: That's great! I haven't heard it described that way, but it really captures that je ne sais quoi of bad that you can't really put a finger on.
MB: Right! I don't think it relates to the people living in the house. I think what people really like are houses that they like living in with the things they've collected over the years, whether they have chintz in them or not. Who is to say that this is out or this is in someone's home? That's ridiculous. You're a human being and you're conditioned to certain things. I've had it in six apartments, and if I moved I'd do it again.
DO: It works and it's a classic.
MB: Exactly. It's a classic and you're happy with it. I don't get tired of things that I really love. I can relate to it.
DO: So, Prince, what's the deal with chintz today, especially with the millennium around the corner? I'm dreading some sort of futuristic home décor nightmare, like silver and neon. No, wait, that's been done.
MB: Unfortunately! [Laughs] The situation with chintz today is that it's still very much in. What happened is that the designers that were doing so much chintz really out-chintzed the whole business. I mean, they were chintzing and ruffling and bustling, and a lot of people did get tired of it. The result was that all you saw was chintz, and as far as I'm concerned, that's great.
DO: Despite my having grown up in Miami where it's all so modern and tropical, I personally love chintz. Always have.
MB: I do too. But that's obvious. Out there, it's making a big return, I have to tell you Ñ not that it ever went anyplace. At High Point, North Carolina, at the last [furniture] market, there was a lot of flowered fabric. Not that chintz has to have flowers Ñ it can be figures, it can be leaves, it can be anything. But people have this incorrect notion that chintz is all those big flowers.

DO: Chintz is the fabric itself, not the pattern.
MB: Exactly.
DO: What era are we coming out of?
MB: We were into a beige period. A more neoclassical sort of decoration with lots of faux marble. I think they're tired of that now. That's what happens; the magazines show it and show it. It's in your face constantly.
DO: They do it to death. MB: That's what they did to chintz. I started doing chintz in 1963 and they laughed at me.
DO: But you were coming from the authentic, English country-house inspiration. You weren't doing it to be trendy.
MB: Oh, I was doing it because I loved it. As a child I was brought up in a house that was all art moderne, white and plain fabrics. I hated it.
DO: I feel for you. My experience was similar. I hated it too.
MB: That's what I was brought up with. My father disliked everything old. Everything had to be new.
DO: Are you referring to that antique writing box you bought when you were 12 years old?
MB: You remember!
DO: Listen, I'm a Buatta historian – or is it a groupie?
MB: I've never had a groupie!
DO: That you know of. I know of many.
MB: [Laughs] Undeserved, I tell you! Anyway my little box was a laptop desk, different from what we know as a laptop today. I bought it when I was 12, for $11, on the layaway plan at 50 cents a week. Finally, after about the seventh week, the owner was so sick of me coming in and saying, "Could you please take it off the shelf so I could look at it?" that he said, "Oh, take it home and pay me when you get the money." When I brought it home my dad would not let it in the house because he said it was full of vermin, but actually more vermin crawled into it than out of it. I had to leave it in the garage for three days to prove to him there was nothing in it. Years later I showed him the exact box at the New York Winter Antiques Show – probably made by the same cabinet maker – for $4,500! Then he said I should have bought more of those boxes. Typical parent.
DO: I know you visited England often in your early 20s and met John Fowler, the Pope of decorators.
MB: I used to visit all the time, three and four times a year, and I got to be great friends with John Fowler and all the people who worked at Colefax.
DO: Were you absolutely in awe? I think I would've been just awestruck by the genius of the man.
MB: By John Fowler? Oh yes, very much so. Fortunately he was a very down-to-earth person. John was the guy who, when he entered a house, went through the service entrance because he felt that he was in the trade. He was a lot of fun, but he was very serious about his work. I remember one Christmas when I was out there at the cottage, all seven people staying there traipsed out to one of his clients who had a very grand house; they were having a lunch. At the door I had perched a little stuffed bird on a wire and stuck it to his shoulder as he rang the doorbell. Our hostess opened the door and she started laughing and didn't know what she was laughing about. He went on through this whole thing with that bird on his shoulder and nobody told him. He was 70 years old at the time. He loved it later. He was very funny.
DO: Quite the jokester, aren't you?
MB: You have to have a little fun in life, don't you think? When you're with a client and she's talking about fabrics and things and it's all so serious, my God, you have to break it up with a little joke or something. Fowler was funny, but he was serious about his work. He had an incredible color sense. I've never known anyone to have the sense of color he did.
DO: He was innovative and a perfectionist. And those window treatments were amazing!
MB: His curtains were beautiful...the furniture, the things he designed. Everything he and his partner Nancy Lancaster did, everything was just perfection. And she was a character. She was also a lot of fun.
DO: There you were, loving the English country-house look which you tried to implement here, and that was in the '60s when it was all about that awful orange, avocado, crazy geometric shapes, and pop art. What was the reaction?
MB: When I did my first decorator showcase in 1969 it made the cover of the New York Times. In 1970, in the new House and Garden called it the new look for the '70s. Didn't catch on till the '80s [laughs]. But I kept doing chintz right along.
DO: The '80s is when I discovered you and my devotion began. How much power should a decorator have?
MB: I think 60/40.
DO: I thought you'd say 150 percent. Some decorators do feel that way.
MB: You don't want to lose the whole personal thing of it. A house should reflect you and it should have mistakes and things you love living with and have collected over a lifetime. It's a scrapbook of your life, and everything should tell a story. Those people who hire a status decorator and instantly two of those and three of those and do status decorating – it's horrible.
DO: Define that and give us some advice.
MB: Labels. They need the special labels to impress their friends or to impress themselves. You should always buy the best-quality custom-made upholstered furniture and wood furniture, as it will have lasting value. It's going to be around a long time. Do it gradually over a period of time until you can afford to do the whole thing. No room is ever finished. It's like a garden, it goes on for your entire lifetime and it gets better.
DO: What bugs you?
MB: When a client keeps questioning you and doesn't trust you. And the trades bug me. They never get anything done on time. Luckily the clients I take on are people who understand what I do and they want that look, so they go for that.
DO: What do you do when a client insists on keeping and using something that is absolutely hideous?
MB: That's when you have to give in. If it belonged to their family but is something that is really just horrible then I put it near the staircase.
DO: That's politically correct. I'm surprised.
MB: [Laughs] Then I turn around rapidly and it falls down and breaks – oh, whoops! I'm sorry, I don't know how that happened. Oh, not really, but it's a funny idea. I've had people say they didn't hire me because I never finished a room, and I say I think you read the story wrong. The story is, no room is ever finished. Once it's finished, you're dead. You have to love what you live with. I do!