Can you imagine buying an apartment without actually stepping inside? And then doing the entire place remotely, knocking down walls, scrapping fixtures, changing the floor plan, etc.? For most of us, the answer would be an emphatic “Of course not!”
Kim Barbist would say otherwise. The Belgian interior designer did all of the above when she embarked on a game-changing transformation of a Brussels apartment on the 11th floor of a Brutalist quarter designed by architect Jacques Wibault.
The new coronavirus played that role. Verbist and his partner Sophie van Weyenberghe were enjoying a holiday at a weekend home on a beach in the Netherlands when the lockdown occurred. They had just bought an apartment and signed the contract with a text “sent in the middle of the night.” Previously home to penniless aristocrats, the grounds had been abandoned for decades. With dark hallways and damp bathrooms, it was the definitive fixer-upper.
Space saving: Compact kitchen diner. Photo: Peter Dekens/Living Inside
Verbist was unmoved. The couple’s previous city home, a few blocks down the road, had been designed by the same architect. “I know how his structures work. What walls can he break through? I knew the materials were sound,” she says. Her junior high school was also near Wibau. In a city best known for its winding Art Nouveau townhouses, the teenage Verbist learned about the then-unfashionable 1970s architecture. “Light…flow of space. His designs are in my DNA.”
It also helped that Barbist worked for several major hotel chains before establishing his own firm specializing in retail and residential real estate. That experience in adapting creativity to budget and space is clearly on display here. The apartments are compact, but like a luxury hotel suite, they have everything you need. The central living, cooking and dining area – “we talk for hours while we eat” – is flanked by two bedrooms, one of which doubles as a study and Verbist’s daughter’s guest room. I am. There are also two bathrooms and a hidden utility room.
Master Plan: Main bedroom with floral carpet inspired by paintings. Photo: Peter Dekens/Living Inside
The inspiration for Tutti Frutti’s color scheme was the Kerim carpet. The car, brought back from a trip to Istanbul 30 years ago, has been traveling with the couple from home to home ever since. “The dog ate some of it, but that doesn’t matter,” Barbist says. It may seem counterintuitive, but painting a room a variety of colors, such as Tuscan pink, emerald green, or cocoa brown, can make the space feel larger. It’s even more impressive when you remember that this was all done remotely, with Verbist’s customary early morning site visits conducted over WhatsApp and Zoom.
But even professionals have their moments of wobble. The first time she saw the apartment was the day the decorators removed the dust sheets to reveal the completed project. “I looked at the terracotta walls and thought, “This is terrible. I have to put the box in the middle of the room and start over.” Van Weyenberghe’s light cross encouraged patience. She was right. “Once we unpacked everything, everything fell into place just as we had imagined.”
Pets at home: Kim Verbist and a dog on the balcony of her apartment. Photo: Peter Dekens/Living Inside
They moved from a large house and carefully selected their favorite furniture and belongings. “We started in a big townhouse and have since downsized, which is the opposite of what most people do, but I like the process of honing my stuff. ”
The stately veneered 1950s television was purchased from Van Weyenberghe’s grandparents’ electronics store. A glass-fronted white cabinet with an eerie smell of chemicals, originally used in a doctor’s office, houses a collection of ceramics. The bedside tables in the guest rooms are made from fallen ash wood from Verbist’s father’s country garden on the French border. A set of mid-century Polish movie graphic posters was a gift from a friend whose father was a diplomat in Warsaw during the Cold War. Everything captures her exact aesthetic. “I like color, reusing things, minimal plastic, and not a lot of designer pieces.”
Half walls separate the living spaces. The reading corner was designed to complement the twin sofas upholstered in deep blue velvet. At night, the mirrored shelves sparkle. The kitchen cabinets on the other side are from IKEA and have a curved island shape, made to fit snugly and offer more storage space. Underfoot, we took inspiration from the original flooring and replaced the floor tiles with warm parquet. Next to it, a deep window ledge and stools double as a breakfast bar with views to the south. In winter, the dogs bask in the warmth of underfloor heating.
The master bedroom is even more elaborate. The shower room is enclosed in one-way glass next to a proper changing room. The bed floats above a podium (built to hide the plumbing), and dramatic flourishes echo through the carpet. This piece, woven from lush flowers inherited from an old Dutch master, creeps up the wall like a fluffy mural. Friends are divided about this rebellious, un-Belgian 1970s touch. But in this family that ignores this norm, like everything else, it works.
