Volume III
The Courage to Create
Streeterville | Chicago
A Thought Before We Begin
Extraordinary design begins where ordinary solutions end.
What becomes possible when restraint gives way to imagination?
The Beginning of the Story
There is a moment in every creative partnership when someone must decide whether to remain with what is familiar or move toward something that has not yet been seen.
That decision rarely arrives with ceremony.
Sometimes it appears quietly across a table filled with drawings, material samples, and early ideas. Sometimes it is expressed through a willingness to consider an unexpected finish or an unconventional detail. And sometimes it is captured in four simple words:
Let’s go for it.
Those words became the spirit of this project.
Sixty-two stories above Chicago, inside a residence surrounded by sweeping views of Lake Michigan and the city in nearly every direction, one small room had never quite found its purpose. Positioned just beyond the living room, it contained basic white cabinetry that served a function but offered little sense of identity or occasion.
In a home shaped by art, travel, entertaining, and a distinctly worldly way of living, the room felt unfinished—not because anything was missing physically, but because it did not yet reflect the people who lived there.
The homeowners were accomplished professionals and enthusiastic travelers. They spent time with family and friends, hosted dinners, collected art, and understood the pleasure of a beautifully appointed hotel or an unforgettable restaurant bar. Their home already offered extraordinary views and an elegant setting. What it needed was a room that could hold the same sense of discovery.
The goal was not simply to improve the cabinetry.
It was to create a destination.
A place that would draw guests in, encourage conversation, and transform the ritual of preparing a drink into part of the evening itself.
The clients did not ask for something safe.
They gave us permission to imagine more.
And once that permission was granted, the room began to change.
CHAPTER ONE
The Room Waiting to Become Something More
Some rooms announce their purpose immediately.
A kitchen gathers people naturally. A bedroom offers retreat. A dining room prepares itself for celebration.
Other spaces wait.
They remain undefined until someone looks beyond what they currently are and imagines what they could become.
This room had that quality.
Its location beside the living room made it ideal for entertaining, yet the original cabinetry felt ordinary in a residence where very little else was. The scale of the room was modest, but that became its greatest advantage.
A smaller footprint allowed every surface to matter.
The cabinetry could be completely custom. The hardware could feel more like jewelry. The wallpaper and paint could carry a richer sense of mood. The materials could be layered with greater intention because the room did not need many competing gestures.
Rather than treating its size as a limitation, we treated it as permission.
Permission to be more expressive. More tailored. More memorable.
The design began to take on the atmosphere of a private bar in a beautifully appointed Parisian hotel—intimate, collected, and inviting without feeling theatrical.
The finished room would not merely display bottles and glassware.
It would offer hospitality.
CHAPTER TWO
The Conversation That Changed Everything
The strongest design relationships are rarely built on a designer presenting ideas while a client simply approves them.
They are built through exchange.
A client shares how they live, what they value, what they have seen while traveling, and what they hope to feel in their home. The designer listens, interprets, and returns with a vision that is both deeply personal and slightly unexpected.
This client was willing to go there.
She appreciated quality over quantity and welcomed ideas that did not resemble anything she had seen before. Every presentation became an opportunity to consider what the room might become if we moved beyond familiar solutions.
That creative alignment gave the project its energy.
It allowed us to think of the bar not as cabinetry installed against a wall, but as one complete composition. Millwork, leather, lighting, hardware, wallcovering, paint, and electrical components all needed to relate to one another with the precision of a tailored garment.
Nothing could feel added later. Every element needed to appear inevitable.
The central design gesture emerged at the backsplash.
Stone would have been beautiful. Tile would have been appropriate. But neither felt distinctive enough for the room we were creating.
Instead, we introduced leather.
Rich, tactile, and fully custom fabricated, the leather backsplash created an architectural layer behind the bar that felt both unexpected and perfectly suited to the space. Its texture softened the cabinetry while giving the entire composition a sense of depth and craftsmanship.
It was not chosen simply because it was unusual.
It was chosen because it completed the vision.
CHAPTER THREE
Precision Before Perfection
A completed room often appears effortless.
That is one of design’s great illusions.
The more seamless the result, the easier it is to overlook the planning, coordination, and technical decisions required to achieve it.
This installation demanded absolute precision.
Two weeks before work began inside the residence, the design team, cabinetmaker, leather fabricator, electrician, general contractor, and other trades met inside the cabinetmaker’s workroom. Every person needed to understand not only their own responsibility, but the sequence in which the entire room would come together.
The cabinetmaker needed to anticipate the leather installation. The leather fabricator needed to understand where millwork edges, electrical components, and hardware would meet. The electrician needed to place every element exactly where the design required it.
Each measurement affected the next trade. Each detail depended upon the one beside it.
There was no room for approximation.
Once the components were transported sixty-two floors above Chicago and brought into the residence, the design had to fit together as one carefully sculpted puzzle.
If one element had been incorrect, it would not have affected only that piece. It would have disrupted everything around it.
That is why the project was assembled conceptually before it was ever assembled on site.
Precision was not simply a technical requirement.
It was part of the design.
CHAPTER FOUR
Every Detail Had One Chance
High-rise interiors introduce a particular kind of discipline.
Materials must be coordinated with building requirements. Deliveries must be scheduled carefully. Access is limited. Trades must work within defined timeframes. And when a custom installation takes place dozens of stories above the city, correcting an error is rarely simple.
For this bar, every decision had one chance to be right.
The cabinetry needed to arrive prepared for the custom leather. The dimensions needed to be exact. The electrical and lighting components needed to align with the millwork. The hardware needed to sit with the precision expected of a finely crafted object.
The installation itself became the culmination of weeks of coordination and years of collective expertise.
What visitors now experience as a beautiful and intimate room is, beneath the surface, an intricate collaboration among craftspeople.
That hidden complexity is one of the elements I value most.
The room does not reveal how difficult it was to create.
It simply feels resolved.
That is the mark of thoughtful execution.
CHAPTER FIVE
Hospitality, Designed
The completed bar carries the mood of a destination.
Color, texture, pattern, custom hardware, cabinetry, wallpaper, paint, and leather work together to create a room that feels layered without feeling crowded.
Every detail contributes to the invitation.
The cabinetry organizes the necessities of entertaining while concealing the practical elements that would interrupt the atmosphere. The leather introduces warmth and depth. The custom hardware adds a final note of refinement. The wall treatment frames the room with color and movement.
And because the space sits just off the living room, it naturally becomes part of the evening.
Guests do not simply pass through it.
They pause. They look more closely. They ask questions. They choose a glass, select a bottle, and settle into conversation.
The finished bar does not ask only to be admired.
It invites you to make a drink and stay awhile.
That is what makes the room successful.
It performs beautifully, but it also changes how the home is experienced.
The residence already possessed breathtaking views. The bar gave the interior its own moment of discovery.
CHAPTER SIX
Why the Smallest Rooms Matter Most
The entryway was designed alongside the bar and carries the same belief: limited square footage should never result in limited imagination.
The entry is the first impression. The bar is where hospitality begins.
Neither room is large, yet both have the ability to shape how the entire residence is remembered.
Small rooms can tolerate greater concentration.
A stronger pattern. A richer finish. A more expressive material.
A detail that might feel excessive across a larger space can feel perfectly composed when given the right scale and setting.
That is one of the lessons this project continues to affirm.
Luxury is not measured in square footage.
It is measured in intention.
A small space can carry enormous emotional weight when every decision contributes to one clear idea.
The entry welcomes. The bar gathers.
Together, they introduce a home whose owners understand that living beautifully is not about reserving design for the largest rooms.
It is about recognizing where life actually happens—and making those places unforgettable.
From Lakesha
Some of the most memorable rooms I have designed have also been the smallest.
Perhaps that is because a smaller space asks us to make fewer decisions, but better ones. There is no room for an element that does not contribute. Every material, every finish, and every detail must earn its place.
This project reminded me how powerful creative trust can be. The client welcomed ideas that moved beyond the expected, and the artisans approached the work with the precision needed to bring those ideas to life.
The result is a room that feels larger than its footprint.
A place where a favorite bottle is opened. Where guests gather. Where conversation begins. And where hospitality becomes part of the architecture of the home.
It is not memorable because it is the largest room.
It is memorable because someone had the courage to imagine more.
— Lakesha Rose
Every home has a story. Thank you for reading this one.
