Buried in the rolling hills is this 18th-century stone house once a tavern on the old Albany Post Road, where it is said George Washington himself conferred with French generals. Today the home lies bare under Blass’s careful eye-not as an act of minimalism but as an ode to clarity: taste, history, and life itself.
I had the privilege of sitting down with Blass right in that home, where light swayed on whitewashed walls, and the quiet hum of history seems to have settled above in the beams. His Labrador, Barnaby, sprawled at his feet, as silent, yet always faithful.
“Editing One’s Life”: The Art of Subtraction
Christopher Mason (CM): Bill, it’s impossible to step into this house without feeling its character-both its past and its present. What brought you to this house?
Bill Blass (BB): Twenty years ago, I first visited this house while staying with Slim Keith and Billy Baldwin. Also at that time, I was still renting out in Southampton, planning to live there at some point. But when I laid eyes on this house-it just never left me. Billy told me, “It’s a great house. Get it.” And Billy knew houses better than anyone.
CM: And now, years later, it feels as though it has truly become yours. There is a wonderful balance of restraint and warmth.
BB: That took time. I think simplicity is often characterized as something different. It’s really not starkness or deprivation; it’s about clarity. I have come to think about decorating as fashioning clothes-it’s all about editing. Bring it to a fine point, take it away, bring it to a fine point again. I threw away thirty-seven paintings the other day-very good ones too-because I discovered they were noise. The walls are white now so the house can breathe.
CM: White walls could feel cold in the wrong hands. But here, they feel almost luminous.
BB: Precisely. This is something that the Swedes have known forever. White is never simply white-it absorbs the light, it softens the edges, it allows the pieces in the room to stand on their own.
The House as a Reflection of Character
CM: Well, you certainly have a very masculine approach towards your interiors. What does that derive from?
BB: There is certainly influence from Billy Baldwin. He knew how to do neat, not sterile but essentially orderly elegance. These are the qualities I’ve always admired in people who know how to live well. There is a discipline to it.
CM: You have worked with the world’s finest decorators, including Chessy Rayner. So, how was that for you?
BB: She is one of those rare persons who just got it. We never had any second guesses with each other, but somehow she at least understood that this house was not merely about trends; it was about integrity.
The Soul of an 18th Century Tavern
CM: Two centuries of history, this house has seen. What does that history mean to you of living within it?
BB: You know, it is humbling being a guest in a house that outdates you so much. One doesn’t just live here, and one doesn’t even own it; one is a custodian in a place like this. I imagine the footsteps that have walked these floors before mine, the conversations held by candlelight in these very rooms. To me, that reminds me that good taste– true taste– is timeless.
“He Shops Like a Man”: The Hunt for the Right Pieces
CM: You have a collection that most would envy. How do you go about hunting for pieces for the house?
BB: It’s a very quick and sure process. I do not waffle. If I see it, and I know it’s right, I buy it. If I have to think about it, it wasn’t meant to be.
CM: Nina Griscom once said that watching you shop in London is like watching an expert at work.
BB: As soon as I touch down on Pimlico Road, the dealers know I’m there. It’s a sport, really. Carleton Hobbs, who’s one of the best dealers in London, once told me he’s happy I never became a dealer myself. (laughs)
CM: Is there any special item you would consider a special favorite in this house?
BB: Definitely the Gustavian bed in the front hall, because it has changed this space. It is a recent acquisition, and I really adore the way it sits with the stripped wood that has that powdery paleness—almost mythic.
Live Life to the Fullest and Love the House That You Live In
CM: There’s a sense that this house is more than merely a retreat for you-it is a philosophy.
BB: That is exactly how it is. When people reach a certain place in life, they stop collecting and start curating. They realize that more is not better; better is better.
CM: It seems that, beyond taste, this house is actually a kind of inner satisfaction.
BB: I’ve spent my working life in fashion, which thrives on reinvention, but at home? At home, I want permanence. I want quiet. I want to hear my own thoughts.
CM: John Richardson once described you as a “happy recluse.” Would you accept this description?
BB: Absolutely. Give me a weekend alone with my dog, and I’m in heaven.
The Final Edit: Legacy of Simplicity
As our conversation was coming to an end, Blass leaned down and scratched Barnaby behind the ears, a grin of satisfaction lighting his face. The hearth crackled softly, shadows playing on the whitewashed walls.
Taste can be defined in many ways: by belongings, by esteem-but, for Bill Blass, it is an intrinsically personal process of knowing when to let go. It is the art of knowing what has to be there and giving it space to shine.
In this world where there is always something clamoring for more, Blass has found beauty in less. He has built a home in the manner by which he works; each is an exercise in elegance- refined, edited, and utterly timeless.