An 1875 farmhouse with 21st-century attitude

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The oldest residential building in Paris, France, built in 1407, is the former home of Nicolas Flamel at 51, rue de Montmorency in the third arrondissement.

If you were, say, a former Parisian in Ontario and found yourself “jealous” of your “European counterparts who were buying old mills and old homes” during the COVID-19 pandemic, perhaps you might check the Niagara region for a country house, since some of Ontario’s oldest, from the late 1700s and early 1800s, are located there.

Instead, Vanessa Emam of V+R Design Studio tried Collingwood, since she and her husband enjoy skiing. However, places there were either too expensive or not historical enough. A former client recommended her sister, Susan Tavana, a realtor specializing in Prince Edward County. A good choice, thanks to all the United Empire Loyalists that put down roots there.

“I’m looking for something that is totally untouched,” Ms. Emam remembers telling Ms. Tavana. “Old, old. I’m not scared.”

And she delivered: An 1875 Gothic Revival farmhouse with a small, attached barn/utility building – dressed in residential trim – in the Bethesda area north of Picton. And, judging from photographs, its questionable condition may have scared off a great many people … but not Ms. Emam.

“I saw all these old bricks … and I knew that I would turn this into ...” she stops and changes gears. “I did the design in two weeks; this is going to be the family room, and we’re going to remove the second floor because this is what we want to see when we come to the country.” She looks up at the hand-hewn beams above her head.

To be clear, Ms. Emam did not remove the second floor of the original house, but rather in the unadorned, attached building. So, where once there was hay storage, there is now a glorious volume of light and air punctuated by those original beams, now raised up (but still structural) to offer ample headroom. An impossibly long window divides the part of the kitchen backsplash that highlights a jumble of scrap brick suspended in old, pebble-infused concrete – an original wall never meant to be seen but now made beautiful by the juxtaposition of sexy Scavolini cabinets, polished concrete floors and the smooth drywall of the family-room area. And that family-room drywall, it should be noted, marks the portion of the attached building that was more of a screened-in, open-to-the-elements area.

Plop down on one of the sofas and drink in that view of lush, rolling landscape – and the lavender that Ms. Emam has planted – and it’s easy to pretend one is in Provence. And when the Canadian winter arrives to shatter that reverie, a wood-burning stove by Stûv (Belgium) stands ready to warm one’s heart and turn thoughts to maple syrup and hockey. Or of that good PEC wine: Ms. Emam had her woodworker salvage a bookcase from the small library to repurpose as a bar.

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And speaking of salvaged things: In the main house there is a dry sink by the front door; save for the tile “carpet” featuring the home’s year, all flooring is original; the staircase, which features an elegant, tapered newel post and matching spindles, was restored; and the configuration of the four upstairs bedrooms is original.

But before going upstairs, stop to admire the enormous, half-moon window Ms. Emam has added to the rear wall of the house, and its drywall twin further in, and the cozy nook that has resulted, complete with salvaged beams as seating. “The reason we got this house was for the view, so the idea was to open up to it everywhere,” Ms. Emam says. “I’ve always loved the idea of a large, curved window, and then I thought to do the curved opening as well.”

Consider, too, the two symmetrical windows on the street-facing façade, which were replaced with Tiltco Architectural windows but simulate the originals; on the inside, deep sills and almost floor-to-ceiling millwork painted in dark tones make each one a statement while, outside, black frames and shutters give them a 21st-century attitude.

The window in what would’ve been the living room now graces the primary bedroom; while the Victorians would’ve pooh-poohed it, Ms. Emam wanted a ground-floor bedroom. And, since there was a small library attached – a neighbour told her that CBC journalist and author Larry Zolf lived here – it made for a perfect ensuite, where, for fun, the shower has been raised onto a small stage.

Upstairs, Ms. Emam has stolen space from each of the two sets of bedrooms – each has been colour-coded with a stripe on the wall – to build two Jack-and-Jill bathrooms. And yet, each bedroom is big enough for a queen-sized bed, a closet and, in the two bathrooms, “even the shower is a good size,” she says.

And because Ms. Emam is a designer by trade, the smallest details have been laboured over, such as light fixtures, hidden lighting, the tension between rough and smooth or light and dark colours, the placement of art, or the feel of a handle in one’s hand. Big-picture things, such as how the new, crisp, black roof turns something utilitarian into architectural origami, or how the heritage pieces have been given room to breathe, are equally impressive.

That Ms. Emam’s father was an architect and she “grew up on job sites” is evident throughout. That she worked for the National Film Board of Canada shortly after arriving in Canada explains her artistic eye. That she loves heritage and needed to save a small piece of it, well, that tells us of her heart.

“We had met a couple of builders and some [said], ‘Oh, just destroy this, this is going to cost you far too much money.’ … I came here for history.”