Rita Konig brings her signature joyful style to a townhouse in Chelsea's leafiest corner
This house, in the leafiest corner of Chelsea, is what a certain type of person might call ‘a serious house’, because it’s an expensive address that has had quite a lot of money spent on it. But this stout and sunny end-of-terrace, late-Victorian villa is not a serious house at all. It is full of light, lightness of touch and lightness of heart.
It’s not really that the interior designer Rita Konig is the best at what she does (though you could easily argue this case). It is that few others in the design world combine her signature blend of a noble pedigree, deep understanding of the way people want to live and subtle trend-setting (of which more later) with a dash of American generosity.
Thoroughly British, she spent some years living and working in New York. She took her English pukka-ness – her sense of how things should be done – and allowed American air to be puffed through it. The result? A unique point of view that produces houses such as this one: riotous fun with design so solid that it can withstand snobbish scrutiny.
From the outside, this is a Mary Poppins house; utterly perfect and patrician. Inside, it is layered with colour, texture and wisdom around the owner’s preferences. It contains many details that enable her to live in ways that even she didn’t know she wanted to live, but with which she is now enchanted. An interior designer ought to challenge a little – acting as a personal trainer for the client’s eye. ‘The house is only as good as the client,’ says Rita firmly. And we know the owner of this house has guts because she bought it having only seen it online, while stuck abroad during the pandemic.
‘At first, we thought the house just needed a facial,’ says Rita. But then they noticed that an extension added 30 or so years after it was built had made it rather lopsided, generating odd limitations and strange proportions. There was a staircase you had to walk under to reach the main bedroom; one of those long, thin ground-floor rooms so common in London properties, with a mid-section that no one can work out how to use. ‘We had to get rid of Middle Earth,’ says Rita wryly.
Rather than opening the front door and being confronted with a staircase, you now enter a wide and welcoming hall, made more so by the English oak floors – wide boards, the nail heads on show, serving to emphasise their perfection. The kitchen falls out to the right of the hall and is deliberately un-kitcheny: it is a room to be lived in, not just to wash up in. Just as Rita rarely designs a drawing room without a bar (a bottle and exquisite glass-laden table, lacquer tray or a bookcase will do), she will not create a kitchen without a scullery. This one is in pineapple yellow. And is that a festoon blind? Mark my words, we shall start to see them everywhere. That is the Rita effect. She has put bamboo chik blinds on the map – they filter light in a magical way – and I feel she’ll do the same for the flouncy ones.
See also the brilliantly bonkers carpet that runs all the way up the stairs and across the landings. Rita first saw ‘Jolies Fleurs’ as a Pierre Frey rug and the company then made the runner bespoke for the house. It does so much heavy lifting, removing the need for pictures on the staircase because the statement has been made and, as she points out, with a heavy pattern, the inevitable high-traffic ‘trashing’ is less noticeable.
Back to the scullery, which conceals machines, fridges and countertop clutter. ‘Luxury is having a place to put your things,’ says Rita, ‘I love ancillary rooms.’ In addition to the kitchen scullery, there’s a garden scullery (to deal with garden dinners, playroom detritus and in case guests want a fuss-free cup of coffee), a boot room (with a sink and lots of storage), a housekeeper’s kitchen, a vast utility room, a wine room, a plant room and even a suitcase room. None of this is folly. All of it makes the house easier to live in. There’s also a primary-coloured soft-play room, which is a joyous surprise. Maybe one day it will be turned into a gym, or a cinema room, or
a teenage drum cave. This is a house designed to evolve.
Rita credits JCA at every turn and, indeed, the architects’ contribution goes deeper than is immediately obvious to the casual observer: the high ceilings in the basements; the wide panelling; the romantic laylight at the top of the stairwell; and the arches that frame the sun-flooded drawing room. The art is wildly eclectic and none of it was bought for this house. ‘So much better,’ says Rita, and she is right, because it doesn’t go with anything – yet works with everything.
A huge rose quartz buddha somehow signals a mood change on the first-floor landing, as we head into the main bedroom, which is elegant and calm with its nod to the 1980s love of chintz. The Lee Jofa ‘Hollyhock’ print that has been used on the walls, curtains and sofa has a far-from-busy effect. Rather, the classic floral calmly cocoons, aided by the custom-made tented bed with its Vanderhurd headboard.
The main bathroom is anything but clinical. ‘You need to be naked in a room that’s soft, not one that feels as though it’s a laboratory,’ explains Rita. The dressing room is also tented, with curtains in place of cupboard doors, so one is not constantly flinging things open and so the curtains can be drawn, because ‘darkness is a playground for moths’, says Rita. No LED strips here. Rather a midcentury ceiling light is angled to illuminate the clothes but flatter the wearer.
The owner’s two daughters have already been busy. One of them has stuck stickers on her pretty pink-patterned China Seas wallpaper and drawn cats on the back of her bedroom door, while the other has graffitied the lightwell. And the dog is a maniac – because there’s no preciousness here. Just a contented owner, living in every inch of her sensational house. Isn’t that the dream?
Rita Konig: ritakonig.com | JCA: johnstoncave.com












