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There was a time – and it doesn’t seem so long ago – when your typical wardrobe was a large stick of standalone furniture shoved into a corner of a room or – if you were lucky enough to have something fancier – a set of built-ins spanning one wall, perhaps with mirrored sliding doors in apartment bedrooms. The idea of having a separate room for your clothes – that is, a dressing room – seemed like the prerogative of the wealthy.
But over the past decade or so, the humble wardrobe has undergone a design reimagining. Walk-in robes – basically a dedicated space for clothes – have become a standard feature of new homes and high-end apartments. In some cases, older-style units are being retrofitted to include a dedicated clothing space – even if it means losing a bedroom. What’s more, architects, interior designers, joinery makers and even fashion stylists are collaborating, often at the very start of a general renovation or new build, to deliver jaw-dropping wardrobes that have echoes of a vintage Hollywood movie: dressing rooms brimming with sparkling lighting, display cases for showcasing jewellery and watches, luxe wall-to-wall joinery and marble vanities that scream “look at me”.
This new breed of wardrobe is about not only organising, but showing off your clothes, shoes and accessories. And as is the case with all design challenges, the beauty is in the detail.
Helen Fowler and her partner George Clark recently sacrificed a bedroom to have a walk-in wardrobe space in their sprawling 150-square-metre apartment in Melbourne’s Republic Tower, one of the first residential high-rises to be built in the CBD back in 1999. Their main bedroom, formerly two smaller bedrooms, now includes an open-plan en suite bathroom, with the vanity dividing the space between it and attention-drawing built-in cupboards with clear acrylic doors and sides.
Even in this bigger space, Fowler had to cull her clothes collection, she explains, which comprises mostly suits from her long career as a public servant. The scene-stealers are racks of 1940s and ’50s clothes, some of which were her mother’s. At the end of the transparent clothing pod is a single cupboard for George. “He’s happy to wear virtually the same thing every day,” smiles Fowler, who, even as a child of seven, would sew and knit.
“Look at this wool and cashmere coat,” she beams, removing a Max Mara three-quarter-length coat from the wardrobe. A silk pleated skirt, with a bright graphic print by American artist Roy Lichtenstein, is one of the easiest to spot. A black and white hatbox depicting the Arc de Triomphe is a reminder of shopping trips to Paris while living in France.
While the pod functions as the frame for more tactile and colourful clothing, the bank of soft greyish-green joinery behind contains everyday separates – jeans and trousers at one end, blouses, then knitwear and accessories. Because light is filtering through the acrylic, items are much easier to locate.
“When it comes to dressing and designing wardrobes, it’s usually very specific,” explains Tim O’Sullivan, director of Multiplicity, the design-based architecture firm in Melbourne that planned the wardrobes. “The process starts by literally photographing everything people have in their current wardrobes and even under beds to allow us to fully gauge the amount of storage we need to provide.”
Sioux Clark, co-director of the practice (no relation to George), says that wardrobes can be designed to suit needs well beyond functional storage. “For Helen, it’s the ability to see her beautiful clothes as much as wear them,” she says, adding that some inspiration hails from the apartment’s CBD location: “being in the city, you get to constantly see how clothes are displayed in boutiques.”
Although the acrylic pod, supported by a steel frame, appears weightless, almost ethereal, each 1.2- x 2.4-metre panel is extremely heavy. “Weight is a major issue when working with this type of material,” says Todd Cooper, director of Colonial Cabinets, which built the wardrobes. “You really need to use the appropriate screws and place each one in the exact place, to the precise millimetre. You’ll find that each of these panels costs about $350 more than using traditional materials, such as MDF. And if you need to use five or six, as was the case with this project, that already adds about $2000 to the cost.”
Unlike Fowler, who delights in being able to see her clothes, “most people prefer to just hide everything behind closed doors”, says Cooper.
One major failing of closed wardrobes can be a lack of good ventilation. Eloise da Silva, a manager and buyer at Eastern Market, a fashion and jewellery boutique in Fitzroy, prefers to store her clothes in open wardrobes for this reason – and also to easily reach for what she wants to wear. “Having perforated cupboards or slats allows air to circulate and reduces the risk of moisture,” she observes, picking up an exquisite cashmere jumper from a shelf in her inner-city home. Clothing items like this jumper are an expensive investment and deserve the right storage environment if you want to keep them in top-notch condition, she adds.
Although spotlights in dressing areas are very much on trend, da Silva has opted for standard floor lamps in her bedroom. “These set the mood and make dressing more pleasurable,” she says. As with many bespoke wardrobes, da Silva has set aside a separate area for accessories like silk scarves and for her shoes, which are slightly elevated to allow air to circulate.
Donna Cameron, a Melbourne fashion stylist who operates her own business, DC Style, has consulted on wardrobes across the globe. “A wardrobe that works is generally one that’s organised – jackets together, skirts in one section and other items all having their own place. I also recommend colour-coding clothes, like some do with the spine of books on shelves.” Another tip is to use the same type of hanger throughout a wardrobe to ensure there’s a consistency with the length of each garment.
‘Womb-like’ room
In a house overlooking the harbour in Sydney’s Vaucluse, owner Sascha* has created a dressing area from a single bedroom, while her husband’s clothes are kept in the main bedroom’s built-in cupboards. Sascha acknowledges that setting aside an entire room for a wardrobe might appear an indulgence, but it’s something she’s dreamt about since she was a child. “I grew up appreciating great clothes,” she says. “My parents and grandparents took extreme pride in the way they dressed. And although I’m working as an academic, I see my passion for clothes as like an ‘accessible art practice’.”
Sascha in the “womb-like” dressing area that she’s dreamt of since childhood. Credit: James Brickwood
Sascha relishes creating a look from her extensive wardrobe, deciding on a certain character for how she wants to dress that day – maybe Lady Diana Spencer at Balmoral Castle in 1981 in a Fair Isle jumper or model Jerry Hall entering New York’s Studio 54 nightclub in the late ’70s. There’s also a fair dose of plaid to choose from, also influenced by Princess Diana as well as numerous designers from the 1980s, including Vivienne Westwood.
Sascha takes pleasure from wearing the outfits when she’s out and about, but also at home. But there is also the joy of just looking at them. “I enjoy seeing my clothes as much as wearing them,” she explains. Pointing to a red velvet ottoman in the centre of the dressing area and a colour scheme of soft pink hues, Sascha says that her brief to architectural and design firm Pohio Adams was to create a space that felt womb-like. “Sascha wanted a place where she could enjoy dressing as well as having a girlfriend or two coming over to see what she’s just bought,” says Bianca Pohio, a director of the practice, who works with her life and business partner, architect Christopher Adams.
The dressing area comprises open-fronted, dark-stained white oak veneer wardrobes on opposite sides. Brass hooks on the outside of the wardrobes, designed by Henry Wilson, allow clothes to be displayed front-on and made easier to accessorise. A built-in credenza, supported on slim brass legs, is finished with an oak top edged in brass. Incorporating 12 drawers, it houses sunglasses and scarves higher up and jumpers lower down. The top of the unit is used to display bags and objets d’art.
Mirrors above the wardrobes increase the sense of space in the 3.5- x 3.5-metre room, and there are two other mirrors, a larger one for full-length vision and another framing a built-in marble dressing table. The table includes a marble drawer for jewellery and other items; it is complemented by a Warren Platner stool from the 1960s.
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The dressing area, part of a larger renovation of the home, springs to life through its lighting. The centrepiece is a four-pronged pendant light by Melbourne lighting designer Anna Charlesworth that’s evocative of the 1920s. More warm LED lights are hidden behind the mirrors. Pale pink linen curtains allow for diffused soft sunlight in the morning from the east-facing window while providing privacy; the many mirrored surfaces make the room feel like it extends indefinitely.
Although there are a few pairs of shoes at the bottom of the wardrobe, there’s also a separate shoe cupboard at the end of a passage adjacent to the dressing area. “Ideally, shoes should be placed separately to clothes, given they require a little more airing,” says Bianca Pohio.
Marc Rinaudo, director of Ital Furniture, was responsible for the joinery. “You have to be extremely careful about matching the colour and the grain, being mindful that each tree and where it’s sourced is unique,” says Rinaudo, who approaches his work in an old-school manner, drawing up individual joinery by hand rather than relying on the computer. “I draw everything to scale and then create a template to see how it will be built.”
More hanging space, please
Another noticeable trend in high-end walk-in wardrobes, according to designers, is that they’re getting bigger. A major renovation of a 1930s townhouse in Melbourne’s inner south-east involved creating a lavish main bedroom, dressing area and en suite in a new wing. Designed to resemble a hotel suite, there’s an absence of doors between the bedroom at one end and the en suite at the other. “This type of arrangement is becoming more prevalent, particularly at the top end of the market,” says Paul Conrad, of Paul Conrad Architects in Melbourne. “Ideas from the retail sector also influence the design of dressing areas at home.”
The central dressing area is in the middle of the main bedroom, forming a U-shape in dramatic black joinery imported from Italy, with Calacatta Viola framing a built-in dressing table and separate vanity. “Clothes look better when wardrobe interiors are dark. White tends to look cheap,” declares Adam Wells, director of Shadowline Joinery, which built the robe. Each cupboard is opened by brass handles and has been crafted to suit the owner’s clothing.
Suits in the walk-in wardrobe of a Melbourne townhouse owned by Michael (pictured right)Credit: Peter Tarasiuk
There’s hanging space and drawers, both external and internal, and adjustable shelves to allow clothes to be moved around as new items are added. Wells says that some clients can spend up to $100,000 on even more deluxe designs. And while cost is one factor, another is the skill needed to ensure that valuable joinery isn’t damaged during the building process. “In any build,” he adds, “whether it’s a renovation or a new home, some panels for a wardrobe have to be installed well in advance – which means avoiding scrapes when builders walk past with their tool belts.”
Although Wells and his team still see the majority of designs as flat-fronted cupboards, he’s noticed a recent trend to curved edges, which he says is “considerably more expensive and time-consuming, given each curve is produced by hand rather than being a standard dimension”.
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Michael*, the owner of the townhouse, is exacting when it comes to allocating wardrobe space. Before the renovation, he purchased a number of racks from IKEA to help him estimate the precise amount of space he would need for his jackets and shirts: at least a metre-and-a-half for each. Now, when he opens the doors of his new wardrobe, there’s a sense of organisation reminiscent of a showroom on London’s Savile Row.
On a lower shelf, just below several suits, sits a portrait of Michael’s great-great-grandfather, sporting a long, manicured beard with a tailored jacket and tie. “I used to wear a lot of suits when I worked in corporate real estate,” Michael says, “but I now tend to wear more relaxed clothing.” He points out a drawer of pristine white T-shirts framed by neat groups of rolled-up coloured socks arranged in hues of green, purple and blue.
Fashion is one thing, interior design another. But when the two come together, the act of dressing becomes a personal performance, one that elevates the daily ritual of putting on clothes into an art form.
* Surnames have been withheld.
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