Cindy Harden and Donald Bussolini’s beautiful home with the expansive front porch was my last stop of the day. Harden grew up in middle Georgia, where front porches abound, and she had always longed for her own someday; she procured this dream — even in New York City. While their deep red dining room, grandiose doorways, and Donald’s humorous decoy collection are all deeply rooted in my mind, I found it most interesting that their family room had no sofa but rather four comfortable lounge chairs snugly surrounding a maple coffee table, especially after reading a piece in House Beautiful’s May issue, addressing our nation’s sofa-obsession and noting that sofas are not always necessary when it comes to great interior design. While the homes were certainly memorable, the tourists — and their audacity — proved to be even more so. (To set up the anecdotes to come, I should note that all homeowners were home during the tour, answering questions about their homes and happily socializing with tourists.) In Marion Lipton’s home, visitors traipsed in with sopping shoes and clothing and then took the liberty of sitting down in her living room and other parlors to relax. While seated, they chatted, texted on their
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Raindrops soon began to fall outside, and I feared for the homeowners. The tour noted rain or shine, though, so I trudged along Beverly Road. Having read online that each home was “lovingly preserved and restored,” the thought of filthy, wet shoes trampling through gorgeous historic homes terrified me. I thought to myself, “These homeowners must not be as Type A as I am.” The interiors of the ten homes were lovely. And because the rain seemed to have dissuaded tourgoers, I allowed myself to amble and truly soak up my surroundings. Three homes, in particular, still linger with me now: the first residence I toured, a widow’s majestic white home with a grand piano in the living room; an African American woman’s three-story beige abode, bursting at the seams with amazing African art; and my last stop, a family of three’s home with a lofty wraparound porch and perfectly placed porch swing. It’s intriguing which memories and little details remain with you after the fact. In Marion Liptons’s grandiose white home, I, of course, recall the grand piano in the downstairs living room. But even more memorable is her spacious, tastefully decorated pale pink bedroom upstairs that I simply adored, and if I close my eyes, can envision now. On her bedside table, placed beneath a lamp, her daughter’s wedding and granddaughter’s birth announcements were sitting in gold-leafed wood frames, illustrating how meaningful family is to her. And in a sitting room upstairs, she had the famous (and my favorite!) New
Yorker cover New Yorkistan from December 10, 2001, framed and ornamenting a wall. Back downstairs, vintage Lipton coffee and tea canisters sat atop a glass and mahogany bookcase, showcasing her surname, which I felt commemorated her late husband, Henry. Her drapery throughout the house needed a little sprucing, as it was threadbare, but I can only assume this imperfection went unnoticed, for most are not little Miss Anal McPerfectionists like I am, nor do the majority obsess over silk drapes like I do, especially not most men. With all the marvelous African works of art adorning the walls, Pamela Lawton’s house felt rich in culture, history and the arts. I found the story of her restoration moving. When she first moved into the home with her daughter nearly a decade ago, the house was in abhorrent condition with significant water damage. Pamela and her daughter resided on the only inhabitable floor, the third, for well over a year while they refurbished the floors below. A truly wonderful hostess, Pamela had her daughter and other schoolchildren from the local community playing the piano and flutes as tourists explored her home, further displaying her family’s love of the arts, while their poor, anxietyridden poodle was tucked away in a crate in the home office. Poor little guy; I wanted to adopt him. Most memorable for me, though: In a home so steeped in African culture, her daughter idolized Audrey Hepburn and opted to garnish her bedroom’s closet door with the glamorous celebrity’s classic, pearl-filled portrait.
phones and emailed on their BlackBerrys. At Pamela Lawton’s house, a tourgoer, dressed in what appeared to be a colonial Chinese costume, had the pluck to pose on a windowseat while her husband snapped dozens upon dozens of photos of her; a docent was not pleased by this behavior and insisted that the couple have the homeowener approve each and every photo. And to top it all off, at the Harden-Bussolini residence, out on the front porch, a mother lifted her shirt, unhooked her bra and nursed her walking, talking fifteen-month-old in front of all us. At that point, my boyfriend said, “We’re out of here!”
Facing Page: A portrait of Audrey Hepburn hangs on the closet door of Pamela Lawton’s daughter. Below: The Harden-Bussolini home with its majestic wraparound porch resides in Ditmus Park, Flatbush.