Issue link: http://papercitymagazine.uberflip.com/i/184488
Painting over fireplace by artist Marco Villegas, from Meredith Long & Company. Ivory Mies van der Rohe Barcelona chair and ottoman; throw from Peacock Alley. Mitchell Gold + Bob Williams Dr. Pitt sectional covered in custom linen frames three HomArt wood cubes. Photograph by Elizabeth Messina; Fiscus and Ceron had it printed on Plexiglas. Silk rug from Blackstone Carpets. The pursuit of happiness may be our inalienable right, but that doesn't mean it comes easy. Unless, of course, you knock on the door of the Turtle Creek town home belonging to Todd Fiscus and Ceron. Once inside, you'll find the interior equivalent of Wellbutrin. Riva 1920 Boss Executive Quadrato walnut dining table and Giorgetti's Ode chairs with swivel seats, both from Scott + Cooner. Mirror and chandelier from Ann Koerner Antiques in New Orleans; mirror hangs from a padded panel, formerly the guest bed headboard in Fiscus' previous residence. Jonathan Adler Jacques Lucite occasional tables. Rug from The Rug Company. Its instantaneous mood-brightening power may appear to represent years of careful consideration, but, in reality, nothing could be further from the truth. Fiscus — who is to party planning what Marc Jacobs is to fashion — estimates he's spent 11 nights in the space since closing on the property in March 2013, the result of a whirlwind event schedule that has him constantly airport-hopping. Add the coordination of his upcoming New Year's-in-New-York nuptials to partner Ceron (the Houston-based hair whisperer) and construction of the couple's new home in Houston, and it's safe to say that personal nest fluffing hasn't exactly been number one on the to-do list. Part of the home's initial appeal was its Mediterranean exterior (Fiscus' favorite style); the other was the recently updated interior by its previous owner. "I like clean but not super-modern, and this was perfect as-is. The very first time I walked in with my realtor, I took two steps and said, 'Give me a contract.' There was very little I wanted to change. "Frankly, nothing in our house was meant to go together. If I see something I like, I buy it because anything that's visually great or interesting or cool by itself will be even better in a grouping. It's the same with people. Someone who is good by himself or herself will be even better as part of a crowd — you don't have to worry about him or her meshing with your family or other friends." The home's first-floor living area is a perfect testament to Fiscus' nothing-is-planned-but-everything-works philosophy. Three wood cubes separate a Mitchell Gold + Bob Williams sectional from an ivory Barcelona chair and ottoman. A nearly floor-to-ceiling image of a young girl holding a doll is catty-corner to a sunshine-yellow abstract above the fireplace. A vintage chair covered in amethystcolor shearling rests atop a neutral-patterned silk rug. The dining area boasts a gorgeous maple table surrounded by eight Giorgetti orange chairs from Scott + Cooner. An enormous wall covering — formerly the guest-bed headboard in a previous residence — frames two Lucite tables filled with art books, photos, and collectibles, most notably a figure purchased while vacationing in San Miguel de Allende. (Warns Fiscus, "Drink one too many margaritas and you may wind up buying a porcelain doll in a lace dress.") Both areas open onto an L-shaped urban oasis inhabited by teak furniture, a fountain, trellis and lush greenery. "I use annuals like perennials," he admits. "I want an outdoor space to look finished immediately." Also downstairs is Fiscus' office with its sleek Lucite desk flanked by two equally jaw-dropping artworks — Talking Heads, an appropriately-named installation from artist Raegen McKinney and two photographs of roosters from Art Attack, both evidence of Fiscus' three-point test before buying: "Does it make me think?