Southern Cross

To get that sun-dappled, south-of-France country look for your house, there are two ways to go: One is to scour flea markets for rustic floor tiles and beat-up wooden doors, stick a carved wooden rooster in the kitchen and fill some half-glazed terra-cotta vases with sunflowers. Or, you can follow Danielle Schatteman’s method and re-angle the roof, tear down a few interior walls to build thicker ones and import doors, furniture and floor and roof tiles piece by piece from Provence.

Not that she’d recommend it for everyone. Nor would her husband, hair coiffeur Cristophe, best known as the man who trimmed President Clinton’s hair aboard Air Force One on a stop in L.A. When Danielle convinced her husband that the Beverly Hills home they’d purchased in the fall of 2000 would require very little overhaul, he believed her, even though they’d already been through several serious, lengthy renovations on other homes.

“Men,” he says with a sigh, “are so stupid and so gullible.”

So goes the saga of the Schattemans and their 2,500-square-foot, single-level, three-bedroom house, 13 months in the redoing at a cost they won’t reveal. The Belgian-born couple juggled full-time careers during the ordeal--she is the owner of Decadence Home Decor in West Hollywood; he owns Cristophe salons in Beverly Hills, Washington, D.C., Newport Beach and St. Bart’s. Both, however, say the journey was worth it, despite the daily cacophony of workmen that began at 7 a.m., being confined for months to only a single bedroom and having to move to the Beverly Hills Hotel for several weeks during major construction.

It was Danielle’s idea early on to turn this home from a pleasant but unremarkable 20-year-old ranch house to a Provencal home, by bringing to America some of the serene, old-world style they’d fallen in love with during their annual trips to the south of France. But even Danielle, a veteran of many ugly-duckling-to-swan house transformations, didn’t dream the undertaking would be so extensive.

Neither, of course, did Cristophe, who only fully realized his wife was going for an authentic look “when I came back from a trip one day and the roof was gone.”

As Danielle tells it, the remodel started innocently enough with the green marble entryway. Then she decided the kitchen had to be updated, and walls started coming down to make the den and kitchen larger. When the walls were rebuilt, they were thicker and rounded, mimicking Provence style.

“You cannot honestly do just one room in a house,” Danielle explains. “When you start with the kitchen, the rest of the house looks so old, so bad compared to what you just did. You can’t do it halfway.”

Among the imported items are rough-hewn terra cotta floor tiles, used in every room except the master bedroom, where Danielle opted for pillowed limestone. Interior wood doors from France are pleasantly “raggedy,” as she calls them, touched up only with a bit of stain and sealer. White French doors leading to the backyard were also imported, as was a weathered stone mantelpiece.

They removed the roof over the living room and dining room and replaced it with one re-angled to a lower pitch for a more authentic feel. Danielle wanted French terra cotta roof tiles, but because they didn’t meet building code standards, she placed them only near the edge, where their patina could lend a timeworn look. Faux-finished walls are carefully mottled to make them appear aged. “I just know,” says Danielle, running her hand across the surface, “that someone is going to want to buy this house and paint the walls white because they think they’re dirty.”

Imported furnishings and accessories include a long, narrow dining room table that once graced a Belgian monastery, antique Belgian sconces, reproduction Aubusson rugs, and an oversized French sideboard circa late 19th century that hasn’t been touched, with worn spots revealing various layers of paint .

“I know I must have a piece of land in France,” says Cristophe, “because if the roof comes from there, the doors come from there, the floor, there must be a house somewhere that’s been transported piece by piece. It was an interesting adventure, I have to say.”

With the house nearly finished--a fountain for the walled-in frontyard is in transit from France--the overall effect combines the best of California and the south of France.

It’s a fitting mix, since the two regions share similar climates, lifestyles and sensibilities, both blurring boundaries between living inside and out. The house now also reflects something of the Schattemans’ gracious, relaxed nature, grounded in European traditions but with a contemporary American flair.

Despite the Provencal authenticity, the interior design departs from what constitutes classic regional style. It edges toward urban sophistication rather than countrified ruggedness in its neutral palette of vanillas, taupes and dark woods and touches of mauve and sea foam. A mix of elements conveys an eclectic look that achieves harmony.

Complementing the French and Belgian antiques are modern, streamlined pieces such as an informal white armless sofa and bold geometric accent tables that speak to Danielle’s love of uncluttered, tchotchke-free style. “Except for books,” she says, “I’m not a collector. I don’t like things that don’t have a purpose.” A third bedroom contains a pool table.

The transformation didn’t always involve transatlantic shopping sprees. The Schattemans were lucky enough to have hired a French contractor who not only was able to translate the look Danielle was after, but could locate the pieces needed to achieve it.

“The people we were working with at first had never been to the south of France,” Danielle explains, “so it was more country, more American farm looking. Then we hired a French contractor, so when I’d try to explain something he’d say, ‘Of course, that’s the way it has to be.’”

She found the floor tiles she wanted at a local store, but her contractor said he could bring them over from France for less. The couple found a few doors in Provence while on vacation, but hunting for more (there are 13 total in the house) proved to be something of a challenge.

“You’d get to a store,” Danielle says, “and they’d say, ‘C’est midi!’ It’s lunchtime! I’d say, ‘Can I just look around a little bit?’ And they’d say, ‘No, you have to come back at 2.’ That people still live that way is impressive to me. I think I have two lunches a year. But there, there’s nothing you can do because everybody is closed. They don’t need to sell that bad that they’re going to miss their lunch.”

She left it to her contractor to find the doors too.

Despite the extended renovation, Cristophe says without hesitation that the house’s ambience is reminiscent of Provence, where he once lived: “We live very much inside and outside at the same time, just like in the south of France. We always open up the doors, and we eat a lot outside and we entertain as casually as you can get.”

Danielle has noticed one significant change, too, since the house has been completed: They’re home a lot more.

Adds Cristophe: “It’s a very comfortable, homey kind of house.”

Does that mean the couple will stay for a while? Don’t bet on it. “I always get the itch to move,” Danielle says. “Once everything is perfect I’m going to get bored. I think I like the turmoil. Anything that’s been redone by someone else I’ll always want to redo. Finding the perfect house is not easy.”