Of course, I couldn't stay mad long. For one thing, my attention was seriously diverted by what is essentially a giant collector's cabinet. And for another, the place is not really cluttered or old-fashioned, but fabulous and fun and actually very modern, thanks to an inspired use of space and light and Jayne's ultradisciplined and quirky eye. It's all about the juxtapositions: a white plaster bust of Liberté, for example, sits between two coral-red heads (by the British sculptor Oriel Harwood) that seem to be going up in flames. Even the most serious objects are offset by humor. Jayne says, “we needed a woman in the house.” He's right – Jefferson and Washington and Lafayette and Franklin already occupy prime spots. (Jayne has been collecting reproductions of Houdon's important figures of the American Revolution since graduate school.)

   When the couple began looking for an apartment, they had two difficult (for New York , at least) criteria: great light and enough space for Ellis' extensive collection of American cookbooks (he has almost every important early edition except Fannie Farmer). The books were important because Ellis is a food historian and stylist. The light was important because Jayne's big thing is texture. “I'm not about high contrast,” he says. “And when you have subtle textures, the use of light is really important.”

 

   So when a rare top-floor loft with two skylights and exposures from the south, east and west became available, both men were, Jayne says, “suddenly thrilled to have a walk-up.” With the help of Elizabeth Hardwick, an architect, and one of Jayne's college friends from the University of Oregon , they divided the space into three big areas. “We didn't try to create a warren of little Colonial rooms,” Jayne says. “And we were adamant that most of the walls stay white so it still looks like a loft.” The enormous living room is divided from the study on one end by “walls” of bookshelves and doors made of mirrored gold plexiglass. On the other end, the dining area is separated from the bedroom by a wall covered in more plexiglass, which also lines the skylights.

   The very modern mirrored plexiglass was, oddly enough, inspired by one of Jayne's heroes, the architect Sir John Soane. The skylights in Soane's house in London , which was turned into a museum when he died in 1837, are glazed in yellow. With the diffuse English light, the effect is beautiful; in New York it would be garish. But Soane was also very big on using mirrors, Jayne says, “so we hit on using colored mirrors for the skylight.”
 
 
The study, top, is filled with an elegant clutter of prints, antlers and skeletons, among other things. Jayne and Ellis are both fond of busts, like the one of Benjamin Franklin in the bedroom, above.
     
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