Lofty aspirations

Deb Schimmel was happy she waited. By the time she moved into her first loft in Ukrainian Village 11 years ago, she’d gotten all the Bombay Company tuffeted vanities and Great Ace entertainment centers out of her system and arrived at a point of view that doesn’t change with the seasons.

“I walked in and knew I could live here,” Schimmel says. “I could picture how I could make it mine…really pared down and simple, but still inviting.” A bowl of candy bars on the mod white plastic nesting tables and oversize jar full of rainbow-colored jelly beans on the adjacent side table relay that message.

The 42-year-old television commercial editor describes her choices in furnishings as classic, but look at a space like her upstairs office—where burnt-orange mid-century mod chairs and a curvy Lucite coffee table from the ’70s sit adjacent to a Paul McCobb desk from the ’50s—and eclectic is the word that comes to mind.

“There’s so much great design out there it seems a shame to limit yourself to one thing,” she says. “I’m drawn to stuff that makes me smile.”

In the living room, bold swaths of primary colors—from the custom-made 5-by-7-foot rug to the blue glass Calder-esque mobile—draw the most attention. The art on the walls expands the palette: the hot pink in a mini Dolly Parton portrait, mellow blues and greens in paintings by friend John Gregg and deep reds in a piece by another friend, Kent Rayhill.

Excepting a clear penchant for a mid-century modern aesthetic, Schimmel doesn’t go searching for specific pieces, though she casually collects a few types of adornments: namely, “things that my grandma would own.” The European pottery and sculptures and original book covers are perfect examples. Otherwise, shopping comes down to a matter of what strikes her, such as the “Holly Hobby–ish” opulent gold mantelpiece from Ravenswood Antique Mart and a collection of eight portraits made by an art class in the early ’60s she scored on eBay.

“I like [something that is] simple and has a sense of humor but isn’t kitsch,” she says. “I don’t ever want it to feel like ‘look at all this wacky stuff.’”

Given the lack of clutter, the items that do remain garner extra attention. Every surface features no more than one or two items, be it a Sears catalog from the ’70s or stuffed comic character Flat Eric from a ’90s Levi’s commercial or Jonathan Adler salt and pepper shakers on the dining room table.

Moving in, she nearly purged herself of her previous possessions and started from scratch, feeling that “the place deserved pieces that are special to me rather than just stuff,” she says. “It’s almost like this place tells me what should go in here.”

That said, she has clear visions of how she’d like her home to evolve, such as the second-story addition, a project she completed two years ago after purchasing the apartment above hers to expand the space. A distressed-metal staircase now leads up to her master bedroom, office and a luxurious bathroom replete with an extra-deep, boxy bathtub and heated ceramic floors made to look like slate.

If anything, the loft proves that creature comforts can happily coexist with minimalism. “I want people to put their feet up on my coffee table,” says Schimmel, “where they could get their own snacks out of the cupboard.” Or at least grab a Snickers out of the candy bowl.

Guess what, fellas? She’s single. E-mail Deb at nudeonmoon@gmail.com.

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