Whimsy Well Done

In velvet and leather, crystal and rusty stuff, a condo finds its personality

ON A WHIM, Nancy McNichols bought a massive dining-room hutch, distressed and painted in chickens and roosters. She had no idea what she would do with it. She just really wanted it. Her sister told her she should buy what she wanted.

Yesterday's whim, today's whimsical Queen Anne townhouse.

"When I bought that hutch from Kelly she said, 'Can I come and see where you're going to put it?' And then she said, 'I can make that better.'

"Isn't that seductive?"

And 1,984 square feet later, McNichols is tucked in a total Kelly McCombs makeover with chandeliers of crystal and wrought iron; upholstery in velvet, chintz, plaids and leather, all set among heavy distressed woods, feathered lampshades, creweled seat cushions and lavender-scented bed pillows.

"What Kelly did was save me from my own decisions," McNichols says, guiding a scone toward a visitor like a pointer for a ouija board. "Some people think an interior designer is expensive. Not when you have to go around correcting your own mistakes."

Overall, the townhouse gets a C. Not as in "average," but as in country, clubby, classy, casual, comfortable, creative. A place where a woman can curl up with a good book on overstuffed, flowered window-seat cushions bunkered by custom velvet pillows. A place where a man can put his feet up and have his way with a good cigar on a chubby black-leather chair.

Think kinder, gentler Ralph Lauren. And, dare one say, with a few candelabras and crystal chandeliers tossed about, a more elegant one.

McNichols, a new grandmother, repairs quilts. McCombs is an advocate of quilts — piled on beds, made into pillows, hung from walls, thrown over tables.

"What I saw of Nancy was that she liked folk art," McCombs says. And so she made some for McNichols. McCombs framed an old black-and-white family photograph and centered it on a big piece of weathered ceiling tin. It hangs in the upstairs hallway.

McNichols says her previous home in Idaho had "kind of a Western whorehouse look" with red walls, antique furniture and antlers hanging on the walls.

She thought her Queen Anne townhome to be plain and says, "Kelly helped me be bold." McCombs hunted down groaning wooden corbels and bolted them over the entrance to the dining room for splash. She placed an old arched church window at the top of the stairs for glory. She mixed and matched and mismatched fabrics for personality. Olives, reds, browns, creams and pumpkin lend dignity to the occasional likeness of barn animals and rusted found objects.

"These townhouses are one big room, and you have to break them up," McCombs says.

Color is the interior designer's specialty. McCombs was schooled in art. Previously she worked as a house painter and a mortgage banker. Then she opened an interiors shop in Belltown, later moving to Pacific Place. Customers loved the shops — almost too much. "They kept saying, 'Can you make my house look like your shop?' " McCombs says.

"It's all about individuality; all I need is an hour in front of them. You can tell a lot about a client by what they're wearing," McCombs says. "It's personal."

And then the hunt for a one-of-a-kind home begins. McCombs even picked out the bathroom towels for the townhouse. That works for McNichols, a woman who hates to shop. "I can't look at more than three things at a time," she says.

Now, there's no pressure. "I don't have to think that I need one more thing to make my house special. I am free of all that," McNichols says.

"I will always be grateful to my sister for saying if you want it you should have it."

Rebecca Teagarden is assistant editor of Pacific Northwest magazine. Mike Siegel is a Seattle Times staff photographer.