Veere Grenney tells the story of his enchanting Tangier house
Halfway up Old Mountain in Tangier, my home Gazebo gazes down over a seemingly infinite stretch of brilliant blue, the meeting point of two oceans, the Atlantic and the Mediterranean. The garden that drops towards the sea is a paradise of towering palms, umbrella pines, plumbago, datura lilies, bougainvillea, agapanthus. Terracotta paths are dappled with shade. A serpentine teucrium hedge forms a line of beauty along one of four terraces and a glass house curves round the base of a eucalyptus. There are pools dark green and milky blue and three springs on the property, one of these providing drinking water said to be sacred. My home here is, for me, the ultimate expression of beauty in the most wonderful location I could ever wish for. Most of all, it is entirely personal. To create this house and garden, I drew on every bit of talent and inspiration I possess. And, at the age of 60, I manifested everything I have learnt over the last 40 years. Gazebo plaits together all the memories, skills, experience and different influences I have absorbed. In each room there is evidence of a life well-travelled, people well met, and beauty assiduously studied. From David Hicks to Syrie Maugham, Felix Harbord to Oliver Messel, Richard Timewell to Christopher Gibbs – they are all here. Then there are the unsung heroes of the place, the Moroccan artisans – carpenters, metalworkers, tilers – who have produced such miraculous work. Finally, Gazebo is animated by the people who work here day to day and by my friends and family who come and stay a while.
Tangier has swum in and out of my life since I first arrived as a wild-haired hippy in 1973. It took me twenty years to come back but I think the exoticism, the light, the play of myriad blues and the innate cosmopolitan quality of the place, must have rooted themselves deep in my imagination. Perched at the very top of Africa, looking out to Gibraltar, the whole city is inconceivably romantic. Islamic architecture prevails, punctuated by the odd art deco building and then, at the centre, the Anglican church of St Andrew of which I am a church warden. This Moorish building was painted by Matisse in Landscape Viewed from a Window. It has the Lord’s Prayer written in Arabic around the nave and is emblematic of the history of tolerance here, where Muslims, Christians and Jews have lived together with reciprocal respect. Artists and art-lovers, socialites and mavericks, adventurers of all description have long been drawn to the cultural climate in Tangier, coupled with the balmy Mediterranean weather. Mohammed Choukri to Walter Harris, William Burroughs to Truman Capote, Edith Wharton and Tennessee Williams to Gore Vidal, Jean Genet and Gertrude Stein are just a few of the roster of those seduced by or belonging to the city.
When I returned to Tangier in the early 1990s, the whole place felt artistic, open and exciting. That first year, the legendary antiques dealer Gordon Watson was here, as was journalist Hamish Bowles, and other friends of theirs like the polymath artist Patrick Kinmonth, photographer Mario Testino and many others. From then on, I came back faithfully each summer and rented Gordon Watson’s house, La Perla. The city was exploding in popularity – new roads, new building – but this area, the Old Mountain, still possessed the quality of an eccentric village peopled by aesthetes. Initially, it was my partner David’s idea to buy something here and in 2009 – having sold a property in Rio – I saw this little house that had been built by Hortense Loeb in the 1930’s. It had been left to her daughter Marguerite, photographer and wife of celebrated Scottish artist James McBey. Marguerite became a society figure in her own right and eventually, passed the place on to the late Joe McPhillips, a charismatic American who ended up as headmaster of the American School in Tangier.
When we first looked at it, Gazebo was simply a neglected cottage on a cliff, with two and half acres of jungle around and in front of it – eucalyptus, wattle and laurel, a shaggy tangle of impenetrable undergrowth. The house itself was a modest stucco-clad building, blue with white shutters, a little bit theatrical, with a slightly Caribbean feel. It had not technically come up for sale but was in a complicated legal situation and my friend Christopher Gibbs who lived opposite helped me secure the place. When I bought it, I had no real plan and definitely no grand vision. All I had in mind was a kind of paradigm, the colonial English Regency house. I love colonial buildings and Regency architecture, particularly 1805 – 1815, is my favourite period. There has always been a group of the aesthetically minded who have revered that period. It was all there in the British decorator and theatre designer Felix Harbord and in the work of Oliver Messel costumier, artist and creator of early homes in Mustique and Barbados. It was there in society photographer Cecil Beaton’s Reddish House and Ashcombe house.
My initial informing principle was that I knew I had to have an internal courtyard so that when the Sharqui wind came in from the east, there would be a still and sheltered place. And I loved the idea of a colonnade. I had been staying in a magnificent house in Dorset that had a Regency loggia off the drawing room; I took every measurement of the arches and columns and we reproduced it to make my colonnade here. But instead of having a solid wall on one side, I created two doors, with a staircase sweeping down into the garden.
As I built new foundations, to shore up the bigger footprint of the house, it led me to the idea of staggered terraces, different levels that would each reveal a different vista. In fact, the view from the Gazebo is so extraordinary and so huge, that it felt crucial that you encountered it in stages and increments when you came to the house. To achieve this, I grew a hedge around the entrance courtyard, so that when you initially come in, you are not even aware of the view. Then you step into the elliptical entrance hall, a serene and softly glowing space that has a hallowed feeling and creates a moment of pause. Completely unadorned except for a scarlet ibis and flowers, the only detail here comes from the golf ball cornicing and the smudgy cream and tan striations in the travertine flooring. This oval hallway was based off the on an original John Soane design and is a beautiful oval egg shape, something always more interesting than a rectangle or a square. And in this instance, the hallway was a means to disrupt the central sightline that runs from the one end of the house to another.
As you progress into the colonnade, you come upon a tantalising glimpse of the garden. There’s a seduction in this gradual reveal, it is subtle and more beguiling than instant spectacle. You are immersed in a full sensory experience, the scent of gardenias and the orange trees. Everywhere there are ferns, jasmine, lilies and pelargoniums. There is the sound of water gentle and incessant from the fountain in the courtyard.
Elegant and formal, the drawing room is both architecturally refined and highly decorative. I created the curved walls, the columns and the vaulted Soane-esque ceiling to render it perfectly classical. The Soane ceiling is possibly a bit of madness but I love it, and the ovals and curves repeat in hedging the garden. The upholstered walls are hung with pictures that all share a quality of foreignness; either they issue from some other place or depict a foreign land. . There is a Tangier seascape by Sir John Lavery from 1910, paintings by James McBey and a luminous picture of Tangier in 1680 by an artist called Van Hoek. It was sold to me by Christopher Gibbs because he wanted it to remain in Tangier, its natural home.
For utter charm, I adore my mauve-grey dining room, evoking Syrie Maugham with its plaster palm tree pilasters. Here I have created what I call the Great Wall of China, tiers of circa-1815 Royal Worcester plates from a 250-piece chinoiserie service I found in Paris and I decided to build a plate cupboard where the plates are exposed. The blue rimmed set of china once belonged to Nancy Lancaster, the gold was a lucky find at auction. Beyond the dining room is the library, one of my favourite rooms. Here there are more wonderful pictures, another James McBey and an Oliver Messel painting of Barbados, Roger Fry’s allegorical portrait of Florence. Bugatti inlaid furniture adds a Moorish quality that marries with the walls. Here in the winter, I have a fire burning day and night, a welcome retreat as the temperature falls.
This is an extract from Seeking Beauty by Veere Greeney (Vendome Press)
Francesco Lagnese1/22The red and white bejmat tiles used in the studio room are made locally from natural clay and enamel-glazed for a soft sheen. The bed was found in the Medina and is originally from Spain. The different reds from the Moroccan rugs and the tiles, the pinks of the pomegranate fabric and the brown ceiling all create a warmth and intensity here.
Francesco Lagnese2/22In the drawing room the curved walls, columns, the vaulted Soane-esque ceiling and the golf ball cornicing create a classical effect. The upholstered walls are hung with pictures that share a quality of foreign-ness. There is a Tangier seascape by Sir John Lavery, 1910, but the larger picture here is a depiction of Tangier in 1680 by an artist called Van Hoek. It was sold to me by Christopher Gibbs because he wanted it to stay in Tangier.
Francesco Lagnese3/22Another view of the drawing room shows a 1930’s chandelier by Maison Jansen. The chairs are from a set of fifty made in 1790 and come from an Austro-Hungarian palace. The rush matting is a Veere Grenney design, created to be thin and slightly 1930’s looking.
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Francesco Lagnese6/22I always have incense burning in the treillage room. Flowers fill the table in the middle of the space which is panelled with intricate treillage and marries Colefax rose chintz curtains, rattan chairs, a local lantern and a square skylight. All this is anchored on one of the Mauritanian straw and leather rugs that I use throughout the house.
Francesco Lagnese7/22Throughout the house I created ebonised floors which we wash regularly with rosewater. Traditionally houses in South East Asia or Brazil used ebony for floors because it was so hard and resistant to termites. But here I used local wood and added a black stain There is nothing lovelier than the feeling of walking onto a shiny black floor in a hot climate.
Francesco Lagnese8/22The library is a perfect rectangle that delivers those twin necessities, a view and a fireplace. I wanted it hand-painted in a Moroccan Orientalist way and employed Alistair Erskine, the trompe l’oeil decorative painter, to move in for three months and create panels of faux tilework in echo of Renzo Mongiardino
Francesco Lagnese9/22A Moroccan rugs sits on top of one of the Mauritanian straw and leather rugs that I use throughout the house. Sarah Graham’s enormous spider painting dominates this hallway.
Francesco Lagnese10/22In my room the bed is nineteenth century Portuguese, probably from Goa, India, and it is made of solid ebony. The weight of it is unbelievable. The Florence Knoll marble table is a 1956 original. The walls are papered with a Veere Grenney for Schumacher design, Burley.
Francesco Lagnese11/22The walls in the blue bedroom are papered in Folly, a Veere Grenney design for Schumacher. I sourced an ordinary iron bed locally in Tangier, then had it restored and turned into a four-poster model. The desk is elegant, French provincial, and the chair comes from a Regency dining set. Blue linen curtains are rendered glamorous and a little formal with pelmets designed by Veere Grenney Associates. The highly decorative mirror in white and gilt adds a vitality and flamboyance that works well with the prevailing cool blues and greys.
Francesco Lagnese12/22I used warm colours in the room we call The Indian Bedroom, ochre, ruby and chocolate brown. A quiet pink was mixed for the walls and I had them hand-stencilled at wainscot level. A set of Irish, early nineteenth century chairs are ranged around the room. The desk is an original English Arts and Crafts piece and the mahogany bed is William IV. The curtains are white linen with Moroccan embroidery down the leading edge and base. The paintings, lithographs and photos add to the oriental feel.
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Francesco Lagnese14/22Building five terraces was the perfect solution to my garden-on-a-cliff. Different levels enabled a staggered descent both really and visually and allowed places where you can pause and enjoy the view. At the heart of all, there is an enormous walkway, broken in places by planting. At one end is a Moroccan mosaic bench for sitting and reflection, at the other, the entrance to the palm tree glade. Right in the middle of the walk is the rectangular pond, with dark waters and lily pads, framed by primrose yellow canna lilies, olive trees, salvia and roses, with cascading plumbago above and the orchard, the second gazebo and the vast Strait of Gibraltar below.
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Francesco Lagnese21/22We use this spot all the time and all year round and have breakfast, lunch, meetings, cocktails, dinners here. It has to be the most sublime place to sit with the garden, the ocean, a whole universe of blues and greens below.
Francesco Lagnese22/22Seeking Beauty by Veere Greeney (Vendome Press) with images by Francesco Lagnese is out now.
