so glamorous,” Watson says. “I love the darkness of it.” In daylight, reflections in

the living area’s lacquered ceilings create the illusion of double-height rooms.

Other considerations included what to do with the squirreled-away-since-

the-’80s Gracie wallpaper that had cost the young designer weeks’ worth of

paychecks. (It’s gorgeous in the study with that peerless Regency desk.) And

what of the lugged-home-in-a-yellow-cab enormous solid iron pediment res-

cued from a torn-down bank building? (Again, gorgeous in the study atop an

artfully built-in closet creating precious storage.) And then there were the bath

tiles piled on the floor for decades, now finally in the floor. “Poor Paul,” Watson

laughs, noting that Sparks had long endured stepping around and tripping over

such items. Worked into the mix as well are furnishings acquired over time

at various auctions and sales, most notably a pair of Billy Baldwin–designed

étagères bought from Mario Buatta’s estate that almost certainly came from Cole

Porter’s apartment. Elsewhere, provenance is more personal; family heirlooms

include Watson’s mother’s bouillotte table, a grandfather’s violin, and a bronze

clock belonging to his great-great-grandfather,

who was the first medical doctor in Kansas City.

Connecting with his forebears’ legacy of preser-

vation and healing, Watson believes in home above

all as a place to nurture, and that nurtures you in

return. “I never thought of it as an investment,” he

says. “There is meaning and comfort here.”

FROM TOP: Bedroom walls

and swagged curtains

(more on page 114) are

a Suzanne Tucker print

(Carita). The violin was

Watson’s grandfather’s.

Soaking tub, Blu Bathworks.