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Colin King is a man on the move. At the time of our meeting, the Manhattan-based interior stylist had just returned from three weeks of whirlwind travel, having zigzagged from Northern California to Ghent to Mexico on assignment. The month before, he spent just four days in his new Tribeca apartment. So he’s determined to make every minute in the comfort of home count. “When I’m here it’s about reconnecting with myself and my people,” reflects King of the light-filled loft. “This is a place to nurture my hub.”
We are sitting at the custom-made ash dining table that doubles as ground control for his rapidly evolving operation. It’s been here that, most recently, he’s conceived new collections for Beni Rugs, the hit company where he serves as artistic director at large; here that he’s designed an expanding array of objects for the Danish studio Menu; and here that he’s pored over thousands of images from past shoots for his first book, Arranging Things, coming out in March 2023 with Rizzoli. (Full disclosure: It was written with yours truly.) As we chat, sun streams through the undressed windows, washing over vignettes of assorted treasures, accentuating the patina, glaze, and grain of each surface. Outside the city churns but inside, thanks to King’s meticulous renovation, the rooms whisper.
That’s precisely the vibe—calm, unstudied, anecdotal, inviting—that has made King such a hit with brands on the order of West Elm, Zara Home, and Anthropologie, not to mention top designers and magazines like AD. Styling was not, however, a lifelong professional goal. “It wasn’t a career that seemed real, let alone possible,” says King, who grew up in rural Ohio and cut his creative teeth studying ballet. He eventually abandoned dreams of the stage but credits dance with his intuitive understanding of line, form, and space. A series of jobs followed, among them a London stint as a personal trainer for Gwyneth Paltrow, Stella McCartney, and Victoria Beckham. Back in the States, since stumbling into his first styling gig at the urging of the artist Jack Ceglic, it’s been a nonstop blur of high-profile commissions.
“Friends joke I’m a mover with an eye,” says King, who surrounds himself at home with tokens from past projects and reminders of his upbringing. The open kitchen’s floating shelves, for instance, display tableware and glassware from Roman and Williams Guild, whose photographic narrative he has helped conceive through recurring shoots. The vast living area, meanwhile, features pieces from other favorite New York City sources, including Gallery Dobrinka Salzman, MDFG, Demisch Danant, and Dienst + Dotter Antikviteter. Rocks add a tectonic leitmotif, appearing as sculptural objects on shelves and sills, as well as the base of his homemade cocktail table. Each harks back to a childhood spent collecting stones, which he would smash open in search of geodes. “I’ve always believed in the mystical power of objects,” King notes, adding, “I’ll always be that kid on the farm at heart.”
Nature, dance, collaboration—all form the foundations of King’s multihyphenate practice, the tenets of which reveal themselves in his Tribeca loft. The narrow palette spans his signature range of neutrals. (“Friends tease I dream in 50 shades of brown.”) Materials tend toward the timeworn, foregrounding texture, imperfection, and age. And those bare windows reflect his fascination with shadow and light, both of which he treats as objects unto themselves.
Most fundamental to King’s broad ethos, however, might be a spirit of trial and error. On set, King often experiments with compositions again and again and again to determine, as he puts it, “what the moment isn’t, until I find what the moment is.” That fumble-forward strategy played out over the course of his renovation. Only after sanding what had been dark-stained floors, for instance, did he discover the beautiful pine. “That was my first Easter egg,” he jokes of the surprise discovery, one of many.
King proceeded to update every detail bit by bit—plastering the walls and ceiling at the suggestion of Kamp Studios; living with 15 paint colors before settling on a custom shade of beige; and installing bespoke doors, air-conditioner covers, gallery rods, and more. Only upon moving the furniture from his previous apartment in Brooklyn Heights did he realize it would all look dollhouse scale in his new aerie. To anchor the vast living area, King designed an oversized daybed and sofa, both of which had to be constructed on-site.
Among the pieces that followed him to Tribeca, however, was the travertine pedestal table that served as the stage for his pandemic photo series, “Stay Home Still Life.” Confined to his Brooklyn apartment during lockdown, King composed whatever items he could find (eggshells, scissors, a glass of milk) into poetic tableaux, the success of which made him an overnight Instagram sensation. Today, that table remains a laboratory for arranging, albeit increasingly with objects of the more rarefied variety. At the time of our visit, pieces from his new Menu collection mingled with a range of unique finds, from Japanese vessels to an Allmoge box to a Gae Aulenti lamp. “There’s so much sentiment there,” he says of the table. “It will always be with me.” Well, in spirit at least. Next week he’s off to Los Angeles for four more shoots.
This story appears in AD’s November 2022 issue. To see Colin King’s home in print, subscribe to AD.
