Page 81 - 2022-07-01VogueLivingar

n 2020, when Covid hit New York, Richard Christiansen,
the Australian-born founder of boutique think-tank, bookstore
and brand agency Chandelier Creative, remembers watching as
his warp-speed world was sucked into the vortex of a contagion.
“I never get super-emotional, but I had run this advertising
agency for 20 years and was so tired of always being on planes,
always being out of alignment,” he says of the hyperactivity
Iincurred by helming offices in Los Angeles, Paris and New
York. “It took Covid to crumble that machine. To be honest, the
pandemic was the best thing that ever happened to me.”
Recalling a friend in Los Angeles simultaneously enlisting his aid for
local farmers whose income had lost to the shuttering of hospitality,
Christiansen tells of availing the parking-lot behind his LA bookstore,
Owl Bureau, for the public sale of their produce.
“One farmer became 10, became 75 and soon hundreds and hundreds
of people were involved,” he says of the stop-gap measure that evolved
into a major distribution platform and ultimately led to the manufacture
of product. “It has revolutionised my life, I am a completely different
person with a new-found deep, deep respect for home, a hot bath and
food on the table.”
Christiansen’s tale of ruination and reclamation is presaged on the
Chandelier Creative homepage, which features a clip of the tornado-
whipping start to The Wizard of Oz fronted by bad-taste film auteur
John Waters wondering why Dorothy ever wanted to go back “to the
dreary black and white farm… when she could live with magic shoes,
winged monkeys and gay lions”.
Apart from flashing creative iconoclasm with a sparkle and wit that
siren-called to luxury clients such as Khaite, Cartier and Hermès,
it parallels the story of a farm boy from Oz, peddling “BS” in the
Big Apple and waking to the wisdom that enlightenment lies within.
Christiansen speaks down the line from Sydney after visiting his
parents in northern New South Wales and inking a contract with beauty
behemoth Mecca, retailers of his soon-to-launch range of “radical
pleasures” labelling after his LA home Flamingo Estate — the infamous
three-hectare property that prior to Christiansen’s acquisition, alterations
and branding, pumped out pornographic films for six decades.
“It’s sacred and special,” he says while relaying the tale of its discovery,
some seven years ago when, visiting a friend and venturing into
the property opposite, he found the octogenarian owner John roaming
through the thicket in a red silk robe and leopard G-string.
“We instantly bonded over his best friend, the garden — the favourite
room of the house.”
Regularly reconvening their exchange, Christiansen recalls being
enthralled by John’s florid history and horticulture, and one day making
the offer to purchase the prized site with the promise that he would
reinstate it to a sensory paradise. The reclusive owner agreed on the
proviso that no interior in the 1930s Spanish Mission house be seen
until the contract was sealed. The request was puzzling but possible,
Christiansen says, advising that the mystery was solved when John
moved out and rooms were revealed to house piles of mid-century porn
stacked to the mirrored ceilings. “But the wonderful thing about
hoarders is that they don’t let people in and they don’t do bad
renovations,” he says of the carnal time-capsule that revealed. “So much
of it was about sex… but it was also this hedonistic enclave hidden away
at the top of a hill that celebrated music, food and life.”
Christiansen committed to its epicurean energy and began working
on the garden, all the while pulling together moodboards for ››

THIS PAGE, FROM TOP in the entry, homeowner Richard Christiansen;
vintage Diego Giacometti chair; solid concrete walls imprinted with
wood grain. OPPOSITE PAGE in another view of the main living room,
vintage French bamboo chairs; vintage Italian vases.

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