2026 San Francisco Decorator Showcase

“The Pheasantry”

They call it the Pheasantry. Not for the hunt — but for the hush that follows it.

In the old English countryside, the pheasantry was where birds were kept before they ever took flight. Here, they fly free. This room honors the beauty of that world — the carved wood, the deep tones, the quiet ritual of returning home at dusk — without the need for conquest. Shadows stretch across patterned walls like branches at the edge of a forest. The ceiling glows softly, like lantern light in a countryside lodge.

It is a room made for arrival. Boots slipped off by the door. A coat draped over the arm of a chair. The day set down gently on the coffee table between friends. The sofa invites you to sink in — not perch, not pose — but settle. Glasses are filled and conversations begin. It is about return. About warmth after weather. About gathering without performance. About a reverence for nature that allows it to remain wild.

Here, the birds are not trophies on a wall — they are silhouettes in flight. And the only thing being captured is the feeling of coming home.

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The Bakehouse

In old England, the bakehouse was where warmth lived. Long before open-concept kitchens and oversized islands, it was the room that pulled everyone in—where dough rose with the morning light and conversations lingered long after the fire dimmed. It wasn’t formal. It wasn’t staged. It was alive. This Bakehouse carries that spirit forward.

Mornings begin quietly. Light slips through the windows catching the veining in the marble like ink on parchment. Coffee is poured. Bread is sliced. By afternoon, it shifts. A bowl of fruit, a stack of plates, flour dusting a sleeve. Family and neighbors drift in as they always have, sharing the day’s stories. The Bakehouse begins to bustle with the comfort of community. And in the evening, beneath the soft glow, it becomes something slower. Wine glasses replace mixing bowls. Conversations deepen. Time stretches.

The Bakehouse is not simply a kitchen. It is where hands work and hearts settle. Where tradition feels present, not preserved. Where the home quietly reveals its center. The fire may be modern, the tools refined—but the purpose remains the same: This is where everyone comes back to.

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