Meet our old pals Mike and Harlene. After raising three kids in the Chicago suburbs, they sold their house, donated their kids’ old toys, divested themselves of lawnmowers and snow shovels, and moved to a sixth-story loft in Printer’s Row a few blocks from Mike’s office. They carry up their groceries via a creaky old double-doored elevator. They pay closer attention to the forecast because they walk everywhere. It’s a fresh start, this urban adventure. But at the same time, everything in their new home, down to the door knobs, is an homage to their shared history. I’ve never seen a space more nostalgic in design. It is also utterly modern in function and comfort. And best of all, the place is like Mike and Harlene—welcoming and without a shred of pretension.
We spent a weekend with them and I was like a country mouse in the big city—I couldn’t stop gawking at everything. I mean, look at those candelabras in the photo above! Harlene bought them online from a Catholic diocese in Ohio.
I was also interested in their transition from suburbanites to city dwellers. This was before we found our farm, and I wondered what drove them to make such a change. At her core, Harlene is a risk taker. She plunges forward and figures things out as she goes. She is more afraid of indecision than of a bad decision. This mindset has served her well, and it set her free from the usual confines that hold back many people standing at a crossroads.
Harlene is also an interior designer. This raw space was a chance for her to flex her muscle. (And man, you will see that she’s got serious design pecs.)
While Mike admits he misses the Oak Park neighborhood where they hung out on green lawns with the neighbors, this loft apartment six floors above an august Chicago book shop, this aerie with fire escapes and drawers for grandmother’s dishes, this cozy spot a few blocks from the corner where Harlene’s grandfather owned a pharmacy, is all theirs. It epitomizes “what comes next and how to like it.”
Harlene designed the cocktail lounge around mechanical elements from the original loft. She sourced the three Victorian fireplace grates that hold the liquor bottles and the four door panels above them from seven different vendors and then purchased a rusting kit to make the tones uniform. Note the card catalog box with drink recipes, a sly reference to their location above a bookstore.
Harlene wrote a restaurant blog for years, reviewing only places that merged top notch food, booze, and design. As a result, many design elements in Harlene’s home are borrowed ideas from her favorite establishments, including the barstools which she test drove many times at Balena.
This kitchen is Harlene’s kingdom. The woman can cook! My husband still talks about the Saturday night in 1990 when she made fresh strawberry pie and served fat slices on lemon yellow Fiestaware plates. Now don’t you wish you could pull up one of those barstools and watch Harlene whip some cream for your pie?
Fancy a cuppa? This drawer deeply moved me. I opened it over and over again. Harlene’s cat became suspicious. He’s obviously a coffee drinker, the bastard.
The blue cabinetry paint was custom mixed. The drawers are all labeled, including one felt-covered drawer that holds Harlene’s mother’s old china and silver. (She served gazpacho in her mother’s bowls the last time we were there.) Harlene raves about her Viking cooktop. “This kitchen is not a showpiece,” she says. “It’s a work space with both ovens going all the time.”
A vignette of momentos on the windowsill. I loved peering into other apartments, Rear Window-style, and asked Harlene about street noise. She said that invariably at closing time, someone is always screaming, “Wait for me!”
The dining table seats eighteen. (No more kiddie table at Thanksgiving!) Getting it into the loft required the contractor to make a drywall version to practice carrying up the stairs. The inlay tile “carpet” took five men three days sitting pretzel-style on the floor to complete.
The woodworker who designed the table also designed a crest of Mike and Harlene’s initials and the year of their marriage. For a couple who feeds hoards of guests on the regular, the table is the centerpiece of their home.
Mike and Harlene hired Harlene’s college roomie, Elissa Scrafano and a stellar all-female team at Scrafano Architects to oversee the project. The loft’s design is flexible and can grow or shrink depending on the need. Also, note the radiators: those were worn and ugly until Harlene’s contractor sprayed them brass, which enhanced the detail. So much art just for a radiator!
Old family recipes framed on the left. A soap dish (belonged to Harlene’s mother) with typewriter keys on the right.
Not a single square inch went underutilized. This little office got carved out of the back of another closet. The oak roll-top desk came from the Chicago Public Schools and is a nod to Harlene’s father, who was a school principal, and her mother, who was a teacher. The knob on the sliding door came from the Chicago Board of Education. There’s another doorknob in the front of the loft that came from the Detroit Board of Trade, and is a nod to Mike’s father, who was an exec at a Detroit auto company.
Harlene found the wallpaper at Home Depot. The post-it note (left) reads “NOT A SHITHOLE” and is stuck on Iran. I appreciated that gesture.
The chesterfield sofa is from RH. The kilims on the chairs are from Turkey. The kudu head is from South Africa. His name is Lord Buckingham and he is made from beer cans, bottle caps, and metal blinds. When it came time to ship him to the U.S., the clerk in the post office said to Mike and Harlene, “No, I cannot ship that. But today is Mandela Day. And I must do a good deed.” So between the postal clerk, the artist, Mike and Harlene, they got Lord Buckingham crated.
The cigar box contains the television remotes.
Left: Even a bowlful of nuts looks beautiful in that moody Chicago light. Right: Bo, the cat, is named after the revered Michigan coach, Bo Schembechler. It hurt my Illini fingers to type that line.
The custom roll-up map on the wall hides the television. The Lionel trains belonged to Mike’s father, who worked for Frisco in St. Louis and then Grand Trunk in Detroit. The vintage radio belonged to Mike’s grandfather.
Mike is an attorney who moonlights as a cartoonist, visual artist, writer, and film producer. He designed their 1989 wedding invite. As befits these two, they said their vows in an interfaith ceremony in a beautiful city park. I remember how hot it was, or it felt that way to me, pregnant with our first, and I remember how Harlene glowed like a dark angel.
Mike and Harlene lived in an arts and craft bungalow in Oak Park, Illinois, where everything was oak oak oak. Harlene avoided oak accents in their loft apartment but their collection of Roseville and Ephraim Faience pottery made the cut to the Big City.
Their Printer’s Row loft once housed the headquarters of The Adventurer’s Club. Mike and Harlene themselves are intrepid globetrotters and the apartment is filled with references to travel. You’ll spot suitcase chairs, suitcase shelves, suitcase side tables, globes, maps, and of course, plenty of exotic souvenirs. The binoculars above belonged to Mike’s father.
Mike’s office where perhaps he will write his next screenplay. The rolltop desk belonged to his father.
In the master bath hangs a photo of Harlene’s grandfather in his pharmacy near the old Chicago Post Office a few blocks away from Mike and Harlene’s loft. The pharmacy was eventually shut down because Harlene’s grandfather’s partner got caught bootlegging out the back.
The master bath has the flavor of an apothecary—love the metal and glass case— and a level of cleanliness that certainly would have met with approval from Harlene’s grandfather.
Also in the master bathroom hangs an original Nicholas Ballesteros. Is this why we love Mike and Harlene, because they were the kind of friends who purchased our struggling artist son’s work? No, but yes!
The Japanese-style doors slide closed, creating a private little oasis in an open concept home. I adore the hanging rattan chair but was scared to sit in it.
The set of Heywood Wakefield furniture was in their Oak Park apartment, but Harlene had it reupholstered for their new digs. Sadly, the seamstress tossed out the original barkcloth cushions.
Isn’t the encaustic tile floor just the coolest? (My too small ballet flats? Not so much.)
Mike and Harlene’s bedroom with brass light fixtures, block-printed bedding, suitcase side tables, and an artful assortment of pillows.
More exotica from Mike and Harlene’s travels. Of course my favorite touch is the set of Hemingway housed inside an elephant.
Photo on left: Mike had both hips replaced. He’s a man of steel. To his right hang portraits of Ella Fitzgerald and Louis Armstrong by Steve Musgrave. Photo on right: Harlene found an Etsy maker who turns vintage suitcases into wall shelves. The old camera belonged to her father. The volcano pottery and the artwork came from Iceland.
A view to the foyer of the loft and the sunroom. Somewhere in this wall of bookcases might be a Scooby Doo secret door to an artist’s studio.
Mike’s quad series of oil portraits of his family hang in the main hallway. Clockwise from top left are Mike and Harlene’s three children, Harlene’s parents, Mike and Harlene, and Mike’s parents.
This is the “Prince” bathroom, painted the perfect shade of lavender. And do you see the industrial paper towel dispenser on the wall? That was Harlene’s idea because she hates guest towels in bathrooms. Her construction worker said to her, “Harlene, I have a question for you.” “Yes, Carlos?” “Did you get this at O’Hare?” Harlene’s kids agreed with Carlos. They gave her a lot of grief over that paper towel dispenser and of course everyone loves it now.
Mike and Harlene’s friend, cartoonist Tom Bachtell did the Prince sketch on the wall.
There is a place for everything, and everything in its place. And no space is without art. Here, in the laundry room, the wall tile, images of skateboards, provides a vista to gaze upon while folding towels.
This is the room where we slept. I love the fire escape shelf and the Rifle Paper posters. The ‘M’ is for ‘Michara,’ Mike and Harlene’s daughter, not for ‘Mithra,’ the house guest who wouldn’t stop taking photos.
Can a bathroom be delicious? Michara’s bathroom, with exposed brick, subway tile, an apron sink, grainy wood cabinetry, leather pulls, warm brass accessories, and gray pinstriped linens, is so yummy!
Here we are, the four of us, friends for over thirty years, still giggling like kids, probably about the night we sweet-talked the usher into giving us the front row seats at the Wilco concert, or the night we drank martinis at The Green Mill, or the night we stood in line forever to get into the Riviera Ballroom and some bozo in the crowd got so pissed about the wait, he threw a beer bottle high into the air.
Phew! You made it to the bottom! I hope you enjoyed this home tour. Do you ever think about picking up and starting fresh somewhere new? Is it a pipe dream or just a matter of time?
Iphone-quality photos are mine. The professional photos are via David T. Kindler.