That whole hilarious-in-hindsight thing doesn’t apply to house renovations. There’s nothing funny about messing up one’s biggest investment. Or litigation. Or finding another contractor to fix the myriad problems.
So, despite sitting in a lovely, expertly renovated and added-to house today, Lindsay Brown frowns as she recounts not one horror story, but two. Or was it three? Shortly after moving, alone, into her charming, gabled, 1928 house in the New Toronto section of Etobicoke, she had a crew come in to finish her basement.
It’s too bad they forgot the weeping tile.
“So, the day I paid the final balance the rain started,” she says in her Scottish brogue. “I came home at three o’clock in the afternoon and water in the basement went over my feet, and there was the telly sitting in the middle of the water; and I got $17 back because they declared bankruptcy.”
Then there’s the one about the first kitchen renovation, which fell apart shortly after completion: “Instead of buttering the tile, they put dollops,” she remembers. “So when the dishwasher leaked it was like [the fountains at] Dundas Square. And the underfloor heating got destroyed.”
The one bright spot, however, was when Ms. Brown’s neighbour, Don Aquila of Flux Developments, was hired a few years later to “make space and create closets” in the primary bedroom. That went off without a hitch. As Ms. Brown jokes, “when you pick your neighbour, he’s stuck with you.” Plus, Flux, which consists of Mr. Aquila, his sister Linda, and some very talented designers, are very good at what they do.
The big renovation ball really got rolling in 2017 when Ms. Brown’s new partner, Marco van Dijk, moved from the Netherlands to Etobicoke. He was accustomed to a breezy, open-plan, modernist, Northern European aesthetic; the couple knew their little detached wouldn’t cut it. So they invited the neighbours, Mr. Aquila and his wife, Veronika, over for a chat.
They knew what they wanted: respect for the heritage façade, a larger family room on the main floor and a partial third storey containing a large primary bedroom. It was only a matter of working out the specifics such as circulation, room sizes, finishes and where to indulge and spend a little extra.
“That was a bit tight,” Mr. van Dijk says of the front living room. With a gas fireplace to replace the old wood-burning unit and “Bubble” furniture from Roche Bobois, that room has now been billed “Norwood Hall” as tribute to the cozy nooks found at the Norwood Hall Hotel in Aberdeen, Scotland. It’s the perfect place to snuggle up with a book in December.
The new, Flux-designed family room at the back, on the other hand, is airy, bright and perfect for summertime mojitos, thanks to the glazed, almost floor-to-ceiling connection to the outdoors. And because there is a step down and a little glass separator wall, there’s an “intimacy” to it, says, Mr. van Dijk. Applied to the fireplace surround is a Palm Springs-like, vertical, raked and textured plaster by Crow Art Design Build. To further the connection to nature, the new pantry/coffee station/dog food area has been hidden behind a massive piece of live edge timber on a rolling track. Also behind it is a door leading to a tiny, tidy powder room.
“We didn’t want to step out of the toilet right into the living room,” Mr. van Dijk says with a smile. “We call it ‘pee behind the tree.’”
While figuring out how to carve a stairwell to a new third floor through the existing second floor was a challenge, today it’s so logical it almost feels as if it were always so. Sprint up it and marvel at the view of clouds and rooftops, or at the hand-applied Venetian plaster wall behind the bed (also by Crow Art). On the other side of that wall is a closet.
Working with Mason Studio’s Stanley Sun, Ms. Brown and Mr. van Dijk chose dark, moody tile for flooring and a feature wall behind the sculptural tub rather than the typical white. Punctuating the space is a pair of hammered metal pendants from Morocco by way of Egypt. “We ordered it from Etsy,” Mr. van Dijk says with a laugh, “and the address where it comes from, it said something like ‘house number one on that road across from the Great Pyramid.”
While the house now sports new aluminum windows throughout – save for the little stained-glass ones in the formal living room – they really announce their presence while standing in the backyard. Here, they sing out, framing big, golden slices of domestic life, while providing the rhythm track are the building’s two luxurious decks surrounded by battleship-grey cement board, projecting walls, and an abstracted gable.
It’s architectural music to one’s ears, says Ms. Brown, who has trouble picking a favourite spot: “When I sit here, I love it,” she says as she looks out to the rear deck. “And then I walk into that guest room [the previous primary bedroom] and I’m, like, nice room, and then I go upstairs and [I say] nice room.
“My mom,” she finishes, “she worried that it was going to be so modern and cold, when she came in here she burst into tears because she was so happy.”