Grace and Kenyan surround themselves with objects that have a heart— that reflect a life already lived. “There was a level of craftsmanship involved back then. People cared about the items they were making, you wanted to keep things forever. With my truck, you can pull up the hood and replace pieces, fix the engine,” Kenyan explained. “Now you can’t really see the engine anymore, it’s covered up by something.” Counted as among his most prized possessions, the old Chevy could function as a metaphor for the duo’s entire design and collecting philosophy. From the tattered leather sofas and vintage signage in the attic to the taxidermy bear on the second floor work space (I imagine their home is the only place where I’ll ever wake up under the gaping jaws of such a creature and not be in the least bit alarmed by its presence—or the shriners fez hat on its head) to Kenyan’s collection of prosthetic legs dating from the 1700s, paint peeling off the wood at the knees, their home echoes the sentiment that objects should be honored, enjoyed, and above all else, left to age naturally. “We’re not into things that are restored,” Grace always says. “Unless you’re trying to keep it from falling apart or functioning properly. We don’t want things to look shiny and new. It’s like laugh lines: embrace the fact that you have laugh lines because you’ve laughed.” Grace and Kenyan’s regard for the past is evident in their personal style. But while they’re both undeniably fashionable, their wardrobes are indicative of the demands of country life. Their clothing, like their objects, is suited to their surroundings—and their work. Aged denim, leather work boots, and WWII-era jackets are common for the both of them—whether they’re outfitting a restaurant in the city or sourcing for a client in the country. Grace often buys men’s suit sets from the 30s on eBay, coupling the jackets with one of her cotton feed sack-print dresses from the 40s, and the pants with an old flannel. “In a sense our objects are like an orphan child we’ve grabbed up, tried to nurture and take care of,” Kenyan told me. I’ll never forget the way his eyes lit up when he discovered a WWII-era leather aviator suit at a local antique shop. He purchased it on the spot, pleased that it was fetching thousands at a shop in the city. When we got back to the house, he put the suit on immediately, and wore it proudly the rest of the afternoon. While the flight suit doesn’t get as much wear as a pair of overalls or vintage Levis, both he and Grace incorporate items from their vintage collections in their daily lives, if only for the sake of showing them off and having a little fun. In Grace and Kenyan’s world, time imbues objects with a special kind of beauty, and every rust spot, every scratch, every frayed edge and worn corner tells a story. “The things we surround ourselves with have lived a life before they’ve gotten here” Grace explained, as she ironed a black silk dress from the 1920s she planned on using for a vintage portrait project. I could smell its age escaping the fabric as she ran the iron down the front of the dress. She pointed to one of the sleeves. It was, quite literally, disintegrating. “I’ve always been the kind of person who’s liked things that are worn through actual use. Kind of like the velveteen rabbit; the wear becomes its essence.”
Wear / Vintage Brooks Brothers Fedora. Lee overalls, a gift from the owner of Strongarm Clothing & Supply Co.
Where / Accord, NY