Beyond her unmistakable streak of red hair and otherworldly complexion, which I have just encountered in person for the first time, I am struck by Julianne Moore’s realness. We are on set for the cover shoot of Neptune Papers. This morning she arrived promptly, tidy and chic in sharp black trousers and a well-cut tee. While her bubbly warmth is present - conversations with the crew are punctuated by laughter and her trademark toothy grin - so is her inherent decisiveness. She is collaborative, but precise in her opinions. On set, wearing fringed pink Bottega Veneta or oversized Alaia crochet, she is anchored by her own authenticity, possessing the same complexity she so skillfully brings to her characters 

For the past week I’ve been watching her movies. I’m not a cinephile so I’ll confess that the first film I remember is Joseph Godon Levitt’s Don Jon, a raunchy but slyly touching romcom to which Moore’s performance lends a necessary dose of humanity. Now I’m acquainting myself with the classics - Still Alice, Safe, Savage Grace, Far From Heaven. In much of her oeuvre Moore portrays women balancing precariously on the edge - of a nervous breakdown, a strange illness, or social unease. Yet Moore, the woman and the actress, is defined by a friendly self-assuredness. She chooses her roles with enthusiasm but patiently, curiously, pointing rather than grasping. This warm deliberation seems to persist in all of her endeavors, including her passionate exploration of design. 

Though we share a hometown of New York, I’m now speaking with Moore on Zoom. Following our local photoshoot, she’s flown to LA for the Spirit Awards. She doesn’t really want to discuss her prolific career at the moment. “Oh that small, unimportant thing,” I joke and she laughs along knowingly. “I feel like there hasn’t been a new design magazine in a long time!” she exclaims, “I’m excited.”

Design and interiors have been a part of Moore’s life for as long as she can remember. “It’s my big hobby” she tells me. Her earliest influence was her mother. “She just always had a very keen interest in how things looked, and she was always telling me what was beautiful,” Moore remembers. “She loved to decorate her own homes, and she did everything herself. She would make her own slip covers. She would paint the walls. She would strip and refinish furniture.” 

Those aesthetic sensibilities transferred to Moore early. “When you're a kid, you don't realize that you're developing an interest in something until suddenly you’re doing it yourself,” she tells me. “The minute I was living in my own apartment, I was always interested in how I was going to furnish it, how I was going to live, what it was going to look like.” Moore spent a lot of time going to galleries. “Back in the day, you could meet gallery owners and they educated you. They’d tell you about a piece and its provenance and you’d develop your eye.”

Some of Moore’s most treasured pieces were discovered on those early expeditions. “I actually bought 6 dining room chairs at one of the antique stores near the Louvre in Paris in the nineties,” she tells me. “I remember the gallery owner said that they might be Jean Michel Frank and well, I don't know that they are, but they're gorgeous” Shortly after she bought a Nakashima coffee table. “It was the most I'd ever spent on a piece of furniture and honestly, that's the one piece that's been the most consistent in all of my houses since then.”

Over the years Moore has expanded her pool of educators and influences organically. The designer Vincent Van Duysen, is a close confidant. She’d been tearing his homes out of magazines for years before the two met at the New York premiere of her film, Blindness, and fell into an easy friendship. “She's always asking me for advice, but she has incredible taste herself,” Van Duysen tells me. “It's all about realness in my opinion. She has a very firm grasp on what she wants, even in her selection of films… (and) in the objects and the art and the furniture that she's living with. You can definitely see that this is an extension of who she is as a person, as a woman.”

Moore’s father was a military judge, so her family moved frequently. Throughout her childhood she lived in 23 different locations. Every home her mother, who was a psychologist, decorated was different. “When we moved to Germany, we didn’t really come with any furniture,” she remembers. “The environment was always different. It wasn’t like (my mother) was pulling a rabbit out of a hat. It wasn’t about making a home. My mother’s just really interested in aesthetics and she’s always responded to the house itself.”

  Moore has intentionally moved far less often in her adult life, settling in New York City. Still, with each new home, she honors her environment. “Maybe there are some people who feel that they can go in and predetermine what a house is going to look like,” she says. “I feel like I have to be in the space, start somewhere, start with a piece, and then build from there.”

Moore credits at least a portion of her success as an actress to her nomadic youth. Her ever-changing location encouraged her to be a quick study. Today, when she’s embodying a character, she considers their physical space. “I always love set design” she tells me, “That's the thing about design, it's a signifier sometimes for how a person is, how they want to be seen, or how they want to live. When people talk about design being personal, that's what they mean. It has to relate to how someone wants to live, what makes them feel good.” I ask Moore about some of her favorite sets and she answers without hesitation. Todd Haynes’s Safe is among them (“All of those interiors were quite beautiful and really stark. It felt like an Antonioni movie”) and A Single Man (“Tom Ford’s sets are exquisite”). 

I want to talk about home and domesticity with Moore, the design buff who has so brilliantly portrayed complex homemakers on our screens. “When people say words like homemaking it all sounds very down right? It sounds pejorative,” she observes. “But really when you talk about design, and important design, you’re talking about function. For example, there's the very famous Frankfurt kitchen, which was designed by a woman. It was incredibly modern, this kitchen that you could buy in sections. It was the first kind of integrated system. That was the very beginning of modern kitchens. It was revolutionary, and it really was about how do you make things easy? How do you make things work in a home? How do you live? I think all the great designers understand that that's what design is about. It's about living in a way that makes your life easier and hopefully more beautiful.”

Two weeks prior to our meeting, Moore and her husband, the director Bart Freundlich, moved to a new home in Manhattan. She furnished and designed it herself, asking friends, like Van Duysen and the Italian architect, Massimiliano Locatelli, for advice along the way. “I have a lot of friends in the design world who were so helpful. My friend Evan Lobel, I used his upholsterer. I've worked with him for a long time and I’ve bought pieces from him for years and years. My friend Daniel Romualdez let me come and look at the fabrics there. Tom Delevan introduced me to Robert Wright, who does Benni Rugs. Sophie Dries came over after I met her at an event. That's when she discovered that I had an object she designed, but I put it upside down,” Moore laughs. Threads of relatability run through our discussion. “Let's face it. We all watch television,” she tells me later, “I mean, Daniel (Romualdez), I love that he's so truthful, he's like, if you don't put a TV in a room, no one will use it”

Moore calls her aesthetic organic modernism. She values shape and texture. She struggles with color. “I always feel like it’s because I have red hair. I walk around with so much color that I don't like it.” She cares deeply about craft and materials. “Some of the pieces that I've collected, they've been beautifully made by craftspeople, and they last, they endure, and they only get better” she explains. “They have a history and they have a patina, and that doesn't happen with manufactured woods or other materials. When I talk about something organic, I’m talking about a natural material. When it's wool or silk or cotton or wood, all of those things contribute to the aliveness of the piece, and it makes it just much more tactile and much more human. It's a machine for living. I think that's not a cold thing to say.”

“She has her basics. She loves a beautiful carpet and beautiful, comfortable chairs,” architect Vincent Van Duyson tells me, “Then she will add some accents and vintage pieces, but she will limit it to objects that she loves, made by artists, and objects that are telling a story. All in a very sensorial way - very sensual, very tactile, very, very human also. Very timeless” 

Moore’s irresistible humanity arises in the same breath as her taste. “Julianne is an incredible woman,” Van Duysen continues, “She's incredibly engaged, she takes responsibility for other women in society. She's very loyal and very genuine. She's an excellent wife and mother. She loves nature. She loves her dog. She's a real human, and of course, she's a talented actress, which is her job. This is what makes her such a beautiful person.”

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“These chairs look hard to sit in, but they’re easy,” Olympia Gayot says to me as I enter her office. She’s referring to a leather and cowhide-slung set by Charlotte Perriand, in which the two of us will install ourselves for an interview. From this very room, oft-documented on her Instagram, Olympia has miraculously made J.Crew feel cool again. Unlike her office furniture, it's an endeavor that must be more challenging than she makes it seem.  

There appears to be an element of ease to everything Olympia gets her hands on. Her timeless, quick-to-covet designs, often updated from the company's archives, are made instantly approachable by the laid-back way that she wears them herself. An art and design aficionado, who began her career as a painter, Olympia approaches interiors with the same level of reverent joy and simplicity.  

Olympia and her husband, the art curator Matt Black, bought their weekend home in Harriman, New York when their first son was two years old. Though she moved to New York at 19, Olympia is originally from Toronto, where nature and cottage-core are a common feature of life. “Everyone's on the lake in the Summer, it's very much a part of growing up,” she explained. “As a New Yorker, I didn’t need nature but when my son was born, he was such a city kid. I felt like he didn’t know what a bug was.” Matt, who grew up in Paris, was essentially a city kid too. The small family sought to explore a new terrain. 

Aside from occasional visits with friends, and day trips to Dia Beacon or Storm King, neither Olympia nor Matt were very familiar with Upstate. Their house hunt began gradually - they spent a year ambling through different towns and neighborhoods. Eventually, through friends, they heard rumblings about a place off the market. “We found it, and my husband knocked on the door,” Olympia told me, “the owner wasn’t home but a neighbor was.” He promised to make an introduction. 

The couple’s Harriman house is situated between an ashram, built in the late 50s - once a favorite of The Beatles, and a retirement home for nuns. “We do actually see nuns walking around,” Olympia confirmed. Yet the colorful neighbors are only one part of the home’s unique lore. In 1956, the house was constructed by a little-known architect, John Dornes. He and his friends “were very leftist, they essentially wanted to build a commune,” Olympia learned. Stationed in Japan during the war, Dornes became fixated on the country’s tea houses. Upon his return stateside, Dornes combined Japanese elements with his knowledge of mid-century design. With his friends, he constructed 5 homes by a private lake, all of which are still standing today. 

Through the decades that followed, the cluster of cottages became a haven for artists and beatniks, those looking to escape city-life for a weekend at a time. Alan Ginsburg was a regular visitor (rumor has it, he buried his dog by the lake). So was Robert Frank. The broad appeal of Harriman was, and continues to be, its accessibility - the drive is a breezy one and a half hours from the heart of Manhattan. For Olympia, there is a pleasing dichotomy that comes with escaping Tribeca to take yoga classes in a rural ashram. “It's very old-school, completely untouched. People live there and you can meditate three times a day. They have a cafeteria with all vegan food. It's amazing.”

The house itself was meticulously preserved, only requiring a few small updates from its new owners. Design decisions, focused on preserving its integrity, primarily extended the home's seasonality - they made small changes like insulating the windows and adding a deck. The most significant amendment was a fresh coat of black paint on the outside, a move inspired by traditional Scandinavia, where homeowners paint their cottages black to better withstand the elements and blend with nature. 

Olympia painted the house herself, actually. “I love painting houses,”she replied, beaming, to my surprise. “That’s actually when I realized I was pregnant with my second son. I started to feel really nauseous and I thought I must have Lyme disease or something. My husband was like, ‘I think maybe you're pregnant.’ I took the pregnancy test and I was like, ‘ OK, I'm not painting anymore,” she said laughing, “I think it was almost done. Matt took over from there.”

Olympia’s father was a painter and her mother was a fashion designer,  so creative expression was a cornerstone of her childhood. “I wasn’t allowed to watch TV unless I was also sewing my own teddy bear,” she told me, “I made my own doll house, everything.” Her family’s first home was built by her father and grandfather brick by brick. “Well actually, it was plank by plank - the house was made of wood.” Olympia’s father was a special finish painter. “He could paint a ceiling to make it look like clouds, our floor was covered in vines,” Olympia remembers, “It was wild, and the couches were floral print.” Eventually the family grew into a new aesthetic. “My mother's always been influenced by fashion trends. When we moved to our next house, it was much more French Country, and then it became very minimalist.”

When it comes to design, Olympia inherited her mother’s wide frame of reference and her love of rearranging. “My husband is really into design too, so we basically feed off of each other,” Olympia explained. The two have a collaborative approach when it comes to their homes. “For me, I’m very instinct-based when I make decisions, while Matt is very thorough and wants to know the history. He deep dives. It’s beneficial to me, because I always learn something.”

In furnishing the Harriman house, the couple took their time. “At first, we weren't using the house to entertain. We didn’t put pressure on ourselves. It was just a place to escape and not see people,” Olympia told me. “ I remember our first few meals, eating on the floor and thinking about the kind of chairs we would buy…I need everything to have a story or feel special to allow it into my home.” They primarily sourced from vintage shops and auction houses. With such great bones, Olympia and Matt wanted pieces that complimented the house’s existing architecture, like the built-in stone fireplace and white paneled walls. And as the parents of two young children, they wanted their home to feel utilitarian and low-fuss. 

The result of their efforts is an affable art-filled home - bright, cool, and well lived-in. Their furniture choices strategically marry design and simplicity. White-legged dining seats from Jean Prouvé surround a table from Ilmari Tapiovaara, while a light-wood Eames chair sits beside a light from Joe Columbo. Many of their favorite pieces, including short stools and a hive-like lamp that hangs in the living room, were designed by Alvar Aalto - an inspiration, after whom they named their youngest son. The home is punctuated by the couple’s art collection, which includes a range of colorful and unrestrained pieces from Katherine Bernhardt, Julie Curtiss, Soumya Netrabile, Brian Calvin, and Mia Middleton. Mugs from Peter Shire sit on the shelves, and a Roger Herman vase stands in the corner.

The couple makes a point to collect pieces throughout their travels, near and far. “We're both collectors and travel is so important to us. I always bring back an ashtray or carry something ridiculous on the plane,” Olympia told me. After a trip to Mexico, the couple came home with a glass ball from Luis Barragán. Their dishware is vintage, by the industrial designer, Russell Wright. They purchased it on a trip to Manitoga, his historic home in Garrison, New York. “The (art world) inspires me more than fashion when I’m designing,” mused Olympia, “there’s something about the color and the energy.”

My meeting with Olympia comes during a compelling period in her tenure at J.Crew. She first worked at the brand as a designer, under Jenna Lyons, from 2010 to 2017. She returned, to great fanfare, as Creative Director in 2020. On the heels of a smash-hit summer collaboration with Maryam Nassir Zadeh, J.Crew will partner with Christopher John Rogers on a collection in the fall. In September, they relaunched their beloved print catalog with a buzzy dinner at New York’s Public Library. “People are so emotionally attached to that time - that era of the eighties, the nineties, the catalogs, and how they shopped at that time in their life. I kept hearing it from everybody, we all did. We just thought, ‘why aren't we talking about that more?” Olympia said of the decision.

“With J.Crew the bones are so good, the history is so good, the heritage is great. Once I started to get in here, looking through the archives, I thought, it's all here. I love all of this. Of course, things needed to be tweaked and modernized, proportions changed, but those early decades are incredible. And then, during the Jenna era, she brought in a whole new point of view. She was all about color and sequins, and (J.Crew) went from being for this coastal, country girl to the city girl. I knew we couldn’t abandon that either,” she expounded.

“So I thought, how do I take the best of those eras and bring a modern touch to it? And it's the same with my house upstate. I can be the city girl, I love that. I love coming back to the city. It’s clean and I can actually see myself in the mirror. I pull myself together. I get coffee at the coffee shop, I don't have to make it myself. But then I go upstate and I’m in nature. There are animals walking across the front lawn. I’m cooking. It's like tapping into another part of me. And I think J.Crew is very much about that duality too - the casual, coastal, weekend girl and the city girl on the other side. I love finding that balance”

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In the world of luxury, few have been able to achieve the practiced ease and originality of Hermès. The house stands alone in its production of unfussy, elegant staples that will live in a closet for decades (and, in fact, look even better once they do). Its signature styles, a sumptuous leather Birkin or a twilly silk scarf, often increase in value and improve with age. This same principle promises to be true of the house’s new offering in watches, the Hermès Cut.

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Hermès already has a recognizable lineup of women’s timepieces - the Cape Cod and the Heure H come to mind immediately - but Hermès Cut is Creative Director, Phillipe Delhotal’s, first foray into a women’s sport watch. 

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“Hermès watchmaking is a dynamic business that has been growing steadily for several years,” Delhotal tells me via email, “We put a lot of effort into developing the masculine segment. After the success of Hermès H08 launched in 2021, we felt something similar was missing for women.” 

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At first glance, I can picture the watch both on my own wrist and that of my grandfather (this is a compliment). Despite its sharp-sounding name, the Hermes Cut, from case to typeface, is pleasingly balanced and round, with a slightly retro feel overall. While innovative, the Cut’s design is strikingly universal. It has the approachable appeal of an heirloom passed through generations, which it’s likely to become.  

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What makes Hermès Hermès, of course, is often in the unexpected details. In the Cut, there are plenty of “off” elements to absorb. The most immediate being the case and dial, a combination fittingly described by the Maison as “a circle within a round.” Here, a perfect ring of silver-toned opaline sits within a subtle circle-meets-square shape. 

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“The name echoes the creative gesture made in deciding to complete the circle with a clean, disruptive cut on the edge that endows it with a unique style,” Delhotal says. “The shapes look very simple, yet upon closer inspection one realizes there is no such thing as a 'simple shape.'” The crown, too, is unexpected - sitting at an early 1:30, an additional function of design and comfort. 

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Timeless pieces with a twist of the unpredictable are the hallmark of Hermès, and the Cut is no exception. It’s an easy watch for an understated and fashionable free spirit.

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ABOUT TABAYER

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Tabayer is an expression of duality - existing at the intersection of traditional art and contemporary design. Exquisitely crafted with ethically sourced materials, the brand combines classical symbolism and elemental form, creating meaningful jewelry with a minimalist eye. 

Tabayer, founded in 2021, was born from a fascination with the lore of amulets and adornment. The brand’s first collection Oera drew from the principles of modernist sculpture while seeking to reinterpret Inanna’s Knot, a Mesopotamian symbol of protection. With a distinct visual point-of-view, Tabayer continues to apply its streamlined lens to the fables of the past, exploring the power of jewelry. Their clean, expressive designs appeal to independent wearers, interested in a balanced embodiment of vulnerability and strength.

Tabayer jewelry is meticulously handcrafted using Fairmined gold from small-scale mining organizations and Kimberley Process certified, conflict-free diamonds. Central to Tabayer’s vision is establishing first-class business practices that improve people’s livelihoods and protect the planet for future generations.

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ABOUT FOUNDER AND CREATIVE DIRECTOR:

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Tabayer was founded by Nigora Tokhtabayeva. Raised in Central Asia, her upbringing instilled in her a profound appreciation for the art of adornment. Amulets, viewed as a symbol of strength and protection, have always been a part of her family tradition. The daughter of creatives, Nigora was especially influenced by her father, an architect. His knowledge and affinity for modern structures and aesthetic form shaped her understanding of design. 

From a young age, Nigora developed a view of art and architecture not just as disciplines, but as languages—ones that inform her vision for Tabayer today. She approaches jewelry with a sculptural eye, placing an emphasis on bold, architectural shapes that challenge convention, balanced by an instinctive sensitivity to materials and symbolism.

As a mother of five and a conscious global citizen, Nigora is profoundly aware of her company’s impact on the planet. Social ethics and sustainability are at the core of her personal beliefs. In addition to her commitment, through Tabayer, to ethical and sustainable business practices, Nigora also collaborates with non-profit organizations to address and enhance social and community well-being. 

Tabayer is the fusion of Nigora’s background and influences. Her fascination with sculpture and volume, the classical significance of adornment, and a unique balance between the abstract and figurative, are the primary inspiration for the brand. Through Tabayer, Nigora aims to share the powerful symbolism and self-determination granted by jewelry with a new, cross-cultural generation.