Lotus Room

Named for Lien—whose name in Vietnamese translates to lotus—this room unfolds as a quiet study in bicromia, where shades of rose move in soft dialogue with light and shadow. The palette is drawn from the original painted ceiling, where faded roses still bloom overhead, guiding the room’s gentle transformation.

Once an office defined by weight—dark red tile, green wallpaper, and heavy furnishings—the space has been reimagined with a lighter hand. The aesthetic is intentionally feminine, with each element referencing either the lotus flower or the female form. There is no single focal point; instead, the room reveals itself in layers.

Underfoot, rough-hewn hardwood replaces the original tile, bringing warmth and a subtle irregularity that softens the geometry of the space. At its center, a curved bed in crushed velvet—gray with a blush undertone—introduces a quiet counterpoint to the room’s more angular lines.

Above, the most delicate chandelier in the residence suspends the space. Its glass catches the light in motion, casting reflections that ripple gently across the walls, like water disturbed only briefly.

Artworks are placed with restraint:

• Bally Lotus by Bernard Villemot, a rare Bally composition of mirrored figures, poised in reference to a six-petal lotus flower

• Talco Paglieri al Boro Timo and Paglieri dai Fiori le Cipri I Profumi by Gino Boccasile, where softness and provocation coexist in the language of vintage Italian advertising

• An anonymous impressionist Lily Pond, where petals and water dissolve into one another

Encircling the room, a fascia just below the ceiling carries hand-rendered motifs of lotus flowers and lilies in bicromia—subtle, repeating, and almost unnoticed at first glance.

The result is not decorative, but atmospheric. A room shaped by memory, softened by light, and held together by a single idea: the quiet presence of the lotus flower.