(This month, I have been hosting my annual High Style sale at Brooks Books Etc on eBay. It is a celebration of all things glamorous and chic, focusing on books relating to the Beautiful People, High Society and American aristocracy: the Vanderbilts, Astors and Whitneys. Such divas of elegance as Diana Vreeland, Millicent Rogers and Slim Keith. I’ve also included a batch of tomes on interior design and architecture, offering works by Billy Baldwin, Elsie de Wolfe and Dorothy Draper (all sold by now, alas). I met Billy Baldwin back in the 70s while staying in Key West. I invited him and his friend Michael Jardine to dinner back at my guest house. I nearly killed them both with a jambalaya I concocted that was so heavily spiced, they had to leave the table and lie down upstairs in my bedroom. You can’t help but laugh about such things in hindsight.

Another of those stylish figures that I got to know back when was Mark Hampton, the legendary interior decorator. I wrote the following article about him in March 1988 for Quest magazine. It was an early piece for me and admittedly not one of my best. But I guess he didn’t mind it too much since he agreed to pose for the cover of another issue of Quest a few years later when I edited its New York Look special issue. Sharp-eyed visitors to this website might even notice that the trim on my front page is derived from one of Mark’s books. I later worked with his lovely wife Duane Hampton on a separate piece for Quest. She was a bright spot in a difficult time for me. I’ll always be grateful to both of them for their kind friendship and good will.)

Master of the Drawing Room

The first thing that strikes one upon meeting the celebrated interior designer Mark Hampton is that his personality is as lavishly decorated as any of the world famous houses, museums, clubs and public places he’s worked on around the globe. Like a character from a Wildean drawing room comedy, each comment he makes is deliberately phrased, furnished with clever bons mots, embellished by amusing anecdotes. One will note, too, a mellifluous Anglo lilt to his voice — an inflection that is definitely Upstairs, not Downstairs — that obscures his midwestern roots. His vocabulary as well is adorned with ornate expressions such as “wonderful,” “marvelous,” “fabulous,” and “gorgeous.” If, as Wilde insisted, life is an imitation of art, then Mark Hampton’s carefully constructed image mirrors his talent for design beautifully.

“I always wanted to be a decorator,” Mark Hampton says, sitting in a natty suit at a massive white marble travertine-top table situated dramatically in his attractive penthouse office. As he speaks, Mark sketches an imaginary decor on a sheet of white drafting paper. His pencil strokes are swift and effortless. A room takes shape, curtains are created, a tablecloth is added. One gets the impression he’s envisioned just such a room ten thousand times before. Without skipping a beat, the conversation continues. The drama of his childhood unfolds. As a young boy living in Indiana, Mark “grew tired of making jack o’ lanterns, valentines and seasonal drawings” like the other kids in school.
Forging a friendship with his teacher, he graduated to grander toys. “She taught me the difference between Greek Revival and Georgian,” he explains. Soon he was sketching “lots of Victorian houses with towers,” like those he saw in Charles Addams cartoons in The New Yorker. “I’ve always adored haunted houses,” he adds, especially the one Dickens so vividly depicted in Great Expectations. “I always wondered how Miss Havisham could be miserable living in that house!”

By the age of thirteen, Mark was eager to train his burgeoning aesthetic eye on his own surroundings — so with his parents’ permission he redid his room. “I installed wonderful antique walnut shutters which I lovingly stripped down and carefully refinished.” He’d discovered his medium of artistic expression. After attending De Pauw College in Indiana and spending a year studying at the London School of Economics, Mark received his masters in art history from New York University. Soon he was apprenticing with David Hicks in England and Sister Parish here in the States. The next six years he devoted to the firm McMillen, Inc., breaking away in 1976 to found his own company, Mark Hampton, Inc. During the last twelve years, he’s toiled on residential projects in West Germany, France, Ireland, Mexico and Venezuela. In America, he’s established his reputation by restoring many of the nation’s most important buildings: the Naval Observatory (home to the Vice-President and his wife), Gracie Mansion, the Metropolitan Museum of Art, and the National Academy of Design. A true professional, Mark is much admired for his attentiveness and dedication to his clients, although a former assistant nicknamed him Louis XIV because of his fiery temper.

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Tried & True: a New Twist on an Old Town

One of the thrills of spending time in Tivoli is the presence of several terrific restaurants in town. When I first discovered the area, I used to go frequently to Cafe Pongo, on Broadway, which catered to the young bohemian Bard crowd and was a showcase for local artists and owner Val’s immense charm. Across the street was Stoney Creek, a tad more upscale, where there was always a party going on, and next door to that, the very fine sushi restaurant Osaka. The Black Swan, opened by Gerald, was a cool place to sup on late night chili or Shepherd’s pie. In time, Milagro’s opened in the stately old church next to Mike’s bakery, a pleasant environment for a peaceful Sunday brunch. Owner Pamela Morin made it a versatile venue for musicians and artists (it is now available for catering and events). Of course, there was always Santa Fe, the culinary pioneer, which lured foodies from as far away as Massachusetts and Connecticut, not to mention New York City. Later, after Pongo and Stoney Creek closed, other restaurants came and went. I recall something called Tivoli Pasta Company which took over the Pongo space but never caught on. And then came the short-lived Broadway Grille, followed by Coast, which looked as if it had found the magic formula for success but closed last January.

I remember fondly a small restaurant, Cafe Magdalen, opened by Jen in the old carriage house next door to Bayle’s, which made delicious sandwiches and salads. Unfortunately, Magdalen’s didn’t last very long and it was soon replaced by Cafe Paradox, run by Deb, of Luna 61 fame. That immediately became my favorite hangout, where I used to regale Deb with ribald tales and ridiculous jokes until I think she almost threw me out. I was very sad when it closed. One of my bookshelves in Brooks Books actually comes from Paradox which I bought at her closing sale. But Shane Sullivan soon took over the space and reopened it as Sully’s Cafe, a marvelous little bistro where the locals hung out every day for superb hamburgers, Caesar salads and the finest espresso this side of the Hudson. But last year, Sully’s burned down in a fire and shut its doors permanently. It nearly broke my heart. To give you an idea how special a place it was to me, Shane’s mother actually sent me a tuna casserole after the fire because she was concerned that I wouldn’t have enough to eat.

Tough Times for Tastebuds

Tivoli, which had become known throughout the Northeast as a restaurant destination, began to falter and sputter. Yes, there were still the old reliables: Broadway Pizza, Santa Fe and Osaka. But something else had been lost. A quiet place to have lunch, or tea with friends. The new Country Deli (which took over the old Stoney Creek spot) tried to pick up the slack but due to the nature of its business, and constant foot traffic, has not replaced the subtle appeal of Sully’s.

Now things are coming full circle. Luna 61 has opened in the same spot where Sully’s used to be, offering the finest vegetarian cuisine in the area. The Black Swan has revived its kitchen by offering gargantuan burritos. It became a hot spot during the World Cup games. And Coast is back in gear with a new look, a new menu and a spanking new staff. I know I will be there often cheering them on.

Mad About the Madalin

But perhaps the biggest change to hit Tivoli this summer is the remarkable success of the new Madalin Hotel. Long before I ever came to Tivoli, this building was the heart and soul of the hamlet. You couldn’t help but see it as you drove into town; it sat like the Bank of England on the corner of Broadway and North Road. In the early 19th Century it had originally been known as the Madalin House, named after the upper town itself which in those days was called Madalin (most likely after Magdalen Island in Tivoli Bays.) You can still see the name Madalin on the small bridge one crosses on the way into town on Broadway. Later the Madalin burned to the ground and was completely rebuilt. The New Madalin, according to Cynthia Owen Philip in her very thorough and entertaining piece about Tivoli in About Town, was bought by the Hoffman family, which owned the Hoffman House down by the river, and was soon sold to the Morey family which owned the Morey Hotel across the street from the Madalin. That Morey Hotel eventually became known as the Potts Hotel (see photo left) and the Madalin became known as the Morey.

I wasn’t here in the 60s and 70s when the Morey was in its prime as a wateringhole for all sorts of eccentrics and local characters. But the Bayle family which ran it kept it going for years to come, earning the respect of townspeople and fond memories from many a Bard graduate. Its reputation extended well beyond the Dutchess County line. Part of the edgy independent film The Adventures of Sebastian Cole was filmed there.

Recently the Morey was acquired by locals Joseph Cicileo and Domenic Scarpula, and given a spectacular makeover. Who could have imagined, while the building lay empty and dormant, that in such a short amount of time it would blossom into the magnificent hotel and restaurant that it is now? Joe and Dom have poured their souls into the refurbishment of this monumental establishment. I often would poke my head in during the reconstruction, but I had no clue as walls were being stripped, floors redone, and windows cleaned, that the former Madalin House would be transformed so seamlessly from an aging dowager into a glittering princess.

From day one, since Memorial Day, the hotel has been a smash hit. The restaurant and bar have proved to be ideal places to bring your friends and family for dinner. The eleven rooms upstairs are elegantly appointed and spacious, each with its own personality. I came opening night with my brother, visiting from California, and we were treated to a spectacular meal: spicy Asian noodle salad, melt-in-your-mouth pork tenderloin, a flourless chocolate torte. I’ve been back countless times, trying various aspects of the menu. Personally I have found sitting in the bar, after a long day at the store, to be a delightful way to relax, regroup and make new friends. The staff is good-looking and gracious, and totally efficient. No need here for waiters to give you a lecture on the difference between arugula and bok choi. They are deferential yet devoted to making your meal a carefree break from the mundane. I used to drive four and a half hours each summer to Cape Cod just for the fresh crab cakes, but now all I have to do is cross Broadway and order them at Madalin’s Table. I’m saving a fortune on gasoline.

To reach the Madalin, 53 Broadway call: 845-757-2100