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N. Dallas mansion takes your breath away
03:56 PM CST on Friday, February 1, 2008
"Some people say, oh my goodness, how can she live like this, it's so white and spare. But this is how I prefer it," says Mikyung Chun, glancing about the emphatically pared down, impossibly posh North Dallas home she shares with her 13-year-old son, Ghonhee. "I don't put things in if they're not necessary."
She means it. You'll find nary a tchotchke, stack of mail or misplaced remote, not even a well-thumbed copy of Vogue or Wallpaper lying about the North Dallas manse. An over-the-top flower arrangement for Chun is the vase of red roses placed atop her black-lacquered dining table.
Everywhere you look, white walls and gleaming, rug-free floors form the expansive backdrop for a smattering of showstopping contemporary and antique furnishings.
It's stark meets Starck.
Chun swears this is how she really lives, and after multiple visits, we finally believe her. Having a live-in houseman helps – he's been with her family for years. She's also wisely given Ghonhee his own retreat upstairs, where he challenges friends to video games in side-by-side Danish-modern loungers.
The result is a home so unencumbered by the trappings of everyday living it feels more akin to a fantasy: Italian-style columns, a two-story circular parlor furnished only with an antique piano, a brass and wrought-iron grand staircase that Scarlett O'Hara would have killed for.
"Even in a 6,400-square-foot house," says Chun with conviction, "you have to set limits."
Indeed.
Korean-born Chun is a one-woman design powerhouse in a Chloé dress and Gucci heels. She's famous for throwing lavish parties, both at home and at HaRoo & HaRoo, the contemporary furniture showroom she owns in the Dallas Design Center. (One still-talked-about bash invited guests to perch on bales of hay for the American unveiling of Philippe Starck's black crystal chandelier for Baccarat.)
The showroom's name comes from a Korean phrase that means, roughly, "day." Tilting her head, Chun explains in an almost wistful tone: "Today is gone. Tomorrow, another haroo is coming. I believe we should live good design every day."
Chun was initiated early to the world of design, working for her parents' Korean textiles business. The work gave her an opportunity to travel extensively, feasting on Europe's culture and sophistication.
An admitted fashionista whose offbeat style made her a darling of the street paparazzi, Chun considered a career in fashion design, but instead found unexpected inspiration in the ultra-chic boutique hotels where she often stayed for business.
"Interior design became my obsession and fashion was pushed back to my hobby," she says.
Chun began doing freelance interior design projects, then launched a small Korean firm called Design Fifty. On the name: "I felt that at age 50, you are very mature. Look at the numbers, 100 is very full, but 50 is half that, so it seems just right – stable and mature, but not what would we consider old," she laughs. "It's fresh-old."
A growing client list kept her on the road and, after many trips to Dallas, she decided to put down stakes here in the mid-90s. Craving a sense of serenity and security, she found a peaceful, undeveloped lot in a gated enclave, started sketching ideas and hired a builder.
"Sometimes, I am so silly," jokes Chun. "I just start things, like this house, and then later, HaRoo & HaRoo. But that's me. I want. Then, suddenly, I am doing."
The romance-restrained aesthetic that Chun has developed is visible throughout the two-story white wonderland, which she designed from the ground up without help from an architect. (Other creative outlets include a private-label furniture line and designing many of her own clothes, including the black dress she wore the day of our photo shoot.)
Each intricate detail was considered, from the wrought-iron Juliette balconies in front, to the curves of the pool in the rear gardens. The lines are echoed in some of the home's fanciful windows, including one above the master bath's soaking tub that recalls a Spanish flower.
That motif is repeated in the rear-staircase railing and the crown molding of Chun's bedroom. "I love girly things, but I've never been one to put out big pink flowers," she says. "Instead, I added feminine touches in other places."
Chun's vision was to draw from different architectural periods and styles, but have them flow together. "You don't look at my house and say, 'oh, this is French' or 'that is Spanish.' The elements combine into something new."
The no-borders vibe includes a tiled sitting area and rustic fireplace worthy of a hacienda that flow into a formal dining room Chun likens to a glam French cafe. Here, a '40s-inspired custom banquette by Promemoria goes modern with its high back and curvy lines, but stays rooted in tradition with tufted black-velvet upholstery and bronze legs.
Chun keeps the art minimal, relying on scale for dramatic effect. A 1950s image of Italian movie star Silvana Mangano takes up most of one wall. The print-on-canvas was a personal gift from Italian furniture designer Romeo Sozzi. (The two designers are friends; he thought the women were very much alike.) A similar print of Sophia Loren adorns the master bedroom.
Chun also has a penchant for all things Starck: "His work is always infused with humor," she explains. "I love that. He is a hero to me."
Much more so than, say, a movie star or world leader. "I'm not interested in meeting President Bush, I'd rather spend my time with a designer like Starck or Romeo, who spends his time creating something beautiful in life that goes from here to here," she says, pointing from her head to her heart.
"For me, I am not interested in an object just because it is popular or will sell. No, it is about what is the philosophy, the idea behind it. I create things from inside my heart and my dreams. That, to me, is real design."
E-mail cwynn@dallasnews.com
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