Inside Designer Timothy Corrigan’s Stylish L.A. Nest

“I wanted to reinforce the architectural detailing of the exterior of the house by painting all of the windows, doors and shutters in stark black to contrast with the crisp white of the structure,” says designer Timothy Corrigan of his new home in L.A.’s Hancock Park neighborhood. “The topiary gives a touch of formality to the otherwise unpretentious nature of the Georgian architecture.” The planters are from Inner Gardens.

At one end of the living room is a spot where the designer can work comfortably in the evenings or on weekends. French pieces include the 1940s desk from Coup D’Etat in San Francisco and the 19th-century screen from 1stdibs. He used his More Moiré Stripe for Perennials on the custom chair. The Khotan rug is from Andrew Jones Auctions.

“I was trying to create a very bright and clean entry hall that let the art and antiques be the stars,” says designer Timothy Corrigan of his new L.A. home, a 1940s Georgian Colonial. He chose Benjamin Moore’s Mannequin Cream for the walls. The shade sets the backdrop for the 18th-century Italian console from the estate of philanthropist Dorothy Chandler, as well as a carved African animal and a sculpture by Arman. The 18th-century Italian mirror came from a Sotheby’s sale in London.

Lighting the entry is an 18th-century carved-wood chandelier. Artworks by Frank Stella and Walter Gay line the stairwell and play off the 18th-century Italian chair and the 19th-century Tabriz carpet, both from Christie’s, and the 1830s bronze bust from Millon in Paris.

Rather than plan the living room around the fireplace, Corrigan arranged a large seating area that is immediately inviting upon entering the space. He furnished the grouping with a pair of custom chairs and two sofas, all in fabrics from his own Schumacher collection, along with another pair of bespoke chairs in a Luigi Bevilacqua tiger stripe from Janet Yonaty.

To evoke the cheery yellow and light blue of Monet’s home in Giverny, Corrigan covered the dining room walls in a Scalamandré moiré pattern and placed a collection of antique blue-and-white ceramics atop the cabinet. Above the table, designed by Corrigan and made by Emanuel Morez, is a chandelier by Dennis & Leen.

Joined by a Sultanabad rug from Marc Phillips and one of the 19th-century French chairs the designer found at Sotheby’s Paris and upholstered with Schumacher fabric, a late 18th-century girandole placed on a 19th-century French column and the painting by Baron François Gérard make a statement in a corner of the dining room.

The designer kept the kitchen’s palette relatively neutral except for the breakfast nook’s banquette pillows covered in a selection of his Perennials outdoor fabrics from David Sutherland. The table hails from a Paris flea market; the Roman shades are from Pottery Barn.

Though it might lack the functionality of a modern range, the vintage O’Keefe & Merritt was a must-keep for Corrigan and stands out against the classic black-and-white checkerboard flooring. In the adjacent hallway stands a 1940s Emilio Terry chair in a Fortuny fabric.

French terracotta busts of the four seasons overlook Corrigan’s bedroom. There he devised “a cozy atmosphere by selecting a wallpaper, rug and fabrics in the same tonal family,” he says. To that end, the Grey Watkins wallcovering, Schumacher drapery fabric, Dea linens and the upholstery fabrics all skew warmly neutral. The one burst of color is the blue in the Oushak from Mansour.

Corrigan selected plants that require very little water for the backyard and laid artificial turf in place of grass. The chairs of the 1960s Woodward dining set have cushions upholstered in the designer’s Lattice Quo pattern for Perennials.

Trellis patterns are a favorite of Corrigan’s. For the rear facade, he incorporated the motif on the wall and laid pavers with a diamond orientation. The 18th-century bench is from La Boutique in Paris.

Timothy Corrigan’s Instagram followers will remember the sagas that played out on his account as he documented frustration after frustration while remotely renovating his French chateau early in the pandemic. His humor and grace saw him through, but, it turns out, there were also hiccups closer to home. After selling his childhood house in California’s historic Hancock Park, the designer had moved into a rental with his partner, Kathleen Scheinfeld. “The house had gray-white walls, and it just didn’t resonate with me. I was spending all my time at the office because I didn’t want to go home, and we realized we weren’t entertaining since we didn’t want to have anyone over,” he recalls. Finally, his own words to clients hit him: “Don’t underestimate how much a house feeds your soul.” He knew he needed to find a new home—and fast. The perfect one revealed itself quickly, but the city went into lockdown the day he and Kathleen moved in. Corrigan steeled himself and just kept going, knowing the results would be worth it.

“It’s almost like a sister house to my childhood home,” he says of the 1940s Georgian Colonial, set in the same neighborhood, which now even boasts a similar white picket fence. “It’s a style I love because it’s an easy kind of architecture to understand and to live in,” he continues. “Things are where you expect them to be—the center hallway, the living room to the left, the dining room to the right—and you feel comfortable because you’re not trying to figure it out.” The house, it turns out, also came with a notable pedigree, having been previously renovated by Corrigan’s friend and fellow L.A. designer Mary McDonald. “I actually like this house a little bit better than my childhood house,” he admits. “The living room is bigger. It’s just a lighter and brighter house.”

To enhance its already genial spirit, Corrigan chose a warmer palette than he has previously used for himself. “I was consciously looking to go with slightly different colors, spurred by how bad the art looked against the rental’s white walls,” he explains. (While he likes white walls as a background for modern art, he doesn’t prefer them to set off his 17th- and 18th-century paintings. “They need some warmth,” he advises.) Here, it’s a mix of pale yellow, bright yellow and gold to create “a feeling of positivity,” he says, noting that a color study he once read revealed that rooms painted yellow are perceived as brighter because the eye associates yellow with the sun and happiness. “Overall, there’s a return to color,” he states, “but now, across the board, people are moving away from cold colors to warmer, more saturated ones.”

Aside from a new palette, Corrigan also saw the house as a chance to reconsider design elements he hasn’t always relished. Never much a fan of stripes previously, he decided to use them for living room and bedroom draperies, as well as his desk chair, and brought in more wallpaper than usual. “It’s very subtle—my art is my priority—but wallpaper just makes a room feel embracing,” he adds, pointing out the dining room’s yellow moiré paper and a “precious stone-like” pattern he chose for his bedroom, his favorite to date. “It’s discontinued, so I bought every roll they had left!” (Expect to see it turn up at his chateau, too.)

“I’d say it’s 75 percent new and 25 percent rehabbed,” he says playfully of the furnishings. “I got all new carpets and reupholstered things to feel the same way but to look different.” Tiger print chairs in the living room now bring an exotic touch, while a ruby-red velvet sofa in the den evokes the splendor of Old Hollywood. Corrigan splurged on a new dining room table and chandelier but kept his existing chairs. He also retained the vintage O’Keefe & Merritt stove for the kitchen. “It’s wildly unfunctional, but I love the look,” he says. (As did his former client Madonna, who asked Corrigan for one in her own kitchen renovation.)

Outside, Corrigan employed favorite garden elements, including topiary and trellising (topiary flank his L.A. studio’s entrance and trellis patterns feature in his porcelain and fabric collections), and an 18th-century stone bench from Paris is a happy reminder of his adopted country. Every viewpoint offers something meaningful. The house has, in his own words, fed his soul.

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