We always love to hear of designers when they have had previous incarnations as something else and Louis Navarrete (pictured right), like a surprising number of designers we have interviewed, was once a dancer—a ballet dancer to be exact. Very glamorously he danced for the Ballet Monte Carlo where he was invited to the homes of people like Princess Caroline of Monaco and Karl Lagerfeld—exposure that helped train his eye. “I look at design like dance—everything has a line.”
His own Washington Heights home, where he lives with artist Ric Best (pictured left) and their two cats, is a real home: colorful, not too perfect and full of the warmth of a place lived in, not arranged as a stage set. We had the easiest of chats on a snowy day in this lovely part of Manhattan. Incidentally, we learned that there is a move afoot to rename Washington Heights, “Audubon Heights”, which we thought sounded rather good.
This is so welcoming and there’s a good arrangement for us all to sit down and chat—you’d be surprised how often we go into an exquisite residence and there isn’t any real place to sit and chat.
It’s part of our rule. We went to a friend’s apartment and there was nowhere to sit—Ric is 6 feet 4 inches and there he was sitting on these 18th century rickety Italian chairs and we couldn’t put anything down on a table because it was all filled with bibelots. We were so uncomfortable! We’re boys! It’s home. We like to sit down … [Ric adds] and destroy everything.
I was curious when I read on your website something about “transitional” style – what is transitional style.
Transitional is for people that don’t know whether they’re traditional or modern.
Um … indecisive, you mean?
[Laughs] I guess it’s a word that I generally don’t like to use but when I was living in Philly, everybody wanted to be transitional so I was like … okay.
Is it the same as “eclectic”?
It is but I think eclectic is a little more odd.
So what are they transitioning from?
Usually from a very badly decorated home. But they don’t want period [style].
When you say you were say you were trained in the classics does that mean that you read Greek and Latin?
No, I read Palladio and Vetruvius … and Bunny Williams.
I like that, Palladio and Bunny Williams falling under the category of the classics. Now, you were born in Cuba, weren’t you? When did you leave?
I left in 1968. We moved to Elizabeth, New Jersey. We did the Florida thing for two weeks and decided that we didn’t like Florida. We didn’t want to be there with all the expats, so we moved to New Jersey to be with all the expats [laughs]. I have to [hand] it to my mother—I never really realized at the time how hard it was. It was a struggle.
So you grew up speaking Spanish?
Yes. My mother speaks English but she doesn’t practice. We were sort of well off in Cuba and we had to leave everything. My mother came to a different country; she had two kids, didn’t speak the language and we were on welfare … for about two weeks then my mother got a job and sent us to Catholic school. My father stayed in Cuba because this was supposed to be short term and everybody was going to move back eventually. But “eventually” turned into forty years …
And you were also a dancer in the Monte Carlo Ballet – you must tell us about that!
I was sixteen or seventeen years old and my mother didn’t know I was taking ballet class for years! There was an audition at the City Ballet for the Ballet Monte Carlo and I went and I got in. I was there for about a year.
What became of your dance career then? Did you just decide at some point that you didn’t want to do it any longer?
No, no. I broke my leg—on stage during The Nutcracker. I was the Candy Cane. It was New Year’s Eve and I had danced something like fourteen shows in a row and it was my night off but somebody decided they didn’t want to dance that night. I was already home having a nice little drink and someone called to say I had to get to the theater right away. So I went on stage and snapped my knee … I had to have a transplant. They use cadaver muscle.
They do?! It must have been agony! Did you shriek in pain when [the break] happened?
I was going through a hula hoop at the time … I thought I had broken my shin and I went to hold it in but what happened was my knee cap was at the back … I sort of bounced off stage and on New Year’s Eve everyone [in the company] plays tricks, so they thought I was playing a trick.
Do you still dance?
Yes—I take ballet class about three times a week. There’s this Russian teacher there and she goes [puts on a Russian accent] “Ooh you can dance … vaarry beeeutiful.” The trouble is you still think you can do everything … and you can’t. I’ve become Margot Fonteyn. I do everything with my eyes! [laughs—and shows us how he uses his eyes]
And what about the move into becoming an interior designer then?
[Ric] We were living in Pittsburgh and he got a full scholarship to Parsons, which was incredible, so we moved to New York.
[Louis] They give you a test and that was how I got in. I had always been interested in people’s homes and when I was in Monaco and in Europe, I was in a sort of very fancy circle of people who had beautiful houses. I got to see Princess Caroline’s house and Karl Lagerfeld’s house—you know dancers from the company get invited to those places.
Everybody loves a dancer. They’re beautiful people to have around.
[laughs] I was young! I was an ornament!
But it is a punishing profession.
It’s hard. You have to have a very strong work ethic.
So what did they ask you to do in the test to get into Parsons?
I can remember a few of the things. You had to design a chair. You had to do a self-portrait and an office for a psychiatrist. You had to write an essay and you had to design a traditional house. I did everything in watercolor, very elaborate watercolors and I was very scared because, you know, it was Parsons. And sure enough everyone else did all these hard line drawings and I got in with my watercolors. I think they were bored of all the hard lines – you know, “I want color!”
Well, they’re looking for flair. They can teach you all the other stuff.
Yes. You can’t teach flair. It’s like being an artist. You can learn the technique but you can’t teach what to paint—which is what Ric says all the time.
After Parsons did you become an assistant?
I was an assistant with Thomas Jayne. He has a very meticulous approach. But I was thirty and I was old, the oldest in my class but it was the best thing because I had the work ethic already, even though I didn’t do my projects until the very last second. I think about things for a long time and then I just bang it out.
I liked on your website where it says: “Clients will not be subject to an ever changing coterie of interns.”
…which is true! I learned that from Bunny [Williams]. She always insisted on having the same people go to the same clients all the time. I only do two or three projects a year and I’m very hands on about it.
How do the two of you work together?
[Laughs] By computer!
And how would you describe your style … your design sensibility?
Oh … bohemian. Oh … Comic Con meets Downtown Abbey! That’s what a friend of ours said when he came here. [laughs].
