Photography by SGM Photography
In his 18 years in business, kitchen designer Christopher Peacock has left a swath of gorgeous, handcrafted kitchens across Westchester’s moneyed enclaves, as well as dotted around the globe. His star-studded client list includes such luminaries as Bill and Hillary Clinton, Mariah Carey, Toni Morrison, and Joan Rivers. He has taken part in the Kipps Bay show house three times and, in 2008, designed House Beautiful’s Kitchen of the Year. Showrooms in Greenwich, Chicago, Boston, Los Angeles, and San Francisco demonstrate the company credo: Simply Beautiful.
In the world of luxury kitchen design, Christopher Peacock is quite the celebrity himself. Has all this hobnobbing and acclaim turned his head? It hasn’t. He’s an unaffected, outgoing, down-to-earth Englishman—an ordinary guy (as he will emphasize) who happens to have found his calling. Adding to his charm, he seems slightly apologetic that his own quite elegant kitchen in Wilton, Connecticut, isn’t an over-the-top jaw-dropper. “When you do spectacular kitchens, the expectation is for your own to be spectacular,” he says. “Our kitchen is mundane compared to some; it’s fairly plain. But we didn’t want a wow showplace. We’re just a normal family in the throes of bringing up three boys.”
Peacock, his wife, Jayne, and their sons, Jack, Charlie, and Oliver (aged 15, 13, and 9), moved into the Colonial-style house four years ago. At some 8,000 square feet, it’s “big, but not ostentatious,” he says, digging out a tape measure to figure the kitchen’s size: “About sixteen feet by twenty-three,” he announces.
The new house needed a little tweaking, but the kitchen was “really ugly,” with the stove in the island, a Brazilian cherry floor, matching cabinets, and green granite countertops. “The whole thing was a miserable, dark space. But we liked the house and the setting, and the ugly stuff in the kitchen didn’t scare me.”
Out went everything but the floor (all donated to Habitat for Humanity). In came the Peacock hallmarks: classic white, paneled cabinetry; thick statuary marble countertops; pendant lights. On the end wall where the refrigerator had been, Peacock designed a recess to suggest a hearth, and installed a Wolf stove with an infrared grill, two burners on one side, and a French top on the other—a large, steel plate that radiates heat and “works really well,” he says enthusiastically. The “hearth” wall is balanced at the opposite end of the room by a glass-fronted china cabinet.
Peacock’s signature look has been described as Edwardian, a word that conjures up butler´s pantries in stately English country homes. The cabinets are maple with a matte, brushed-on finish with extra trim to match the existing molding on the kitchen doors. Gray striations break up the expanses of white marble, while subtle color comes in the iridescent glints from the glass-tiled backsplash and a few orange swirls on the Roman shades. The dining area overlooks a lake and woods. Claiming his kitchen is “still a work in progress,” Peacock recently added the modern nickel pendant lights from Remains Lighting.
Peacock points out details: his company’s standard, five quarter-inch thick cabinet doors (“over-engineered, really”) with nickel hardware; a refrigerator with drawers tucked beneath the island (“a godsend”); pull-out willow baskets, woven by an Englishwoman he found on the Internet (“I’m proud of those”); two dishwashers, one standard and one half-size that “makes all the difference”; a chalk message board on the fridge door (“we use it all the time”); and two Wolf convection ovens. “Gray is my new favorite color,” he declares, pleased with the newly painted walls that are a deep, warm gray called Abbey Walls from his own recently launched, high-quality, and very expensive line of paints ($125 per gallon).
The glass-fronted china cabinet backs onto a fireplace in the family room. “It used to be a big stone thing with stone on three sides; too much stone.” They knocked out the wall by the bay window so the fireplace is an island between the kitchen and the family room. |
Counter stools are from a company that Jayne started. “We ran an ad once showing stools belonging to a client,” Peacock recalls. “The phone rang off the hook about the stools.” When the couple discovered that the company that made them was defunct, Jayne launched Little Bird to fill the gap in the market.
Being able to spot an opportunity is what propelled Peacock, now 49, to success. “I came up through the ranks. In the early eighties, I was a drummer in a rock band—doing well but not earning any money.” The band’s singer’s father had a kitchen-cabinet business, and Peacock took a job driving the delivery truck on weekends. “They made nice cabinets, and it tapped into something. I’m a creative person, into drawing, pottery, painting, music. Driving the truck was short-lived. Before I knew it, I was working for him, talking to clients, designing. I realized I was good at it.”
That led to a job at Heals, a London department store known for cool design, where Peacock worked for SieMatic, the German kitchen company. In 1987, SieMatic asked him to go to Boston to get its U.S. showroom network up and running. Back then, Jayne was a flight attendant on the fledgling Virgin-Atlantic Airlines, so the couple (who married in 1989) figured they’d see each other as often as before, but on this side of the pond. “I thought I’d come over for two years and that’d be it,” he says.
About a year later, an ex-pat colleague invited Peacock to Manhattan “to hang out with a group of Brits,” he recalls. “It was the Smallbone team.” Charlie Smallbone had just brought his soon-to-be-famous unfitted kitchens to the U.S.—“doing something very different from what the American public was used to,” he says. “Those pretty kitchens struck a chord. So when Smallbone asked me to join, I jumped at the opportunity. Jayne moved over, and the two-year plan grew into three or four.”
After Charlie Smallbone sold the company, Peacock stayed on for a while, running a showroom in Greenwich. Then, in 1992, a client asked him for a private, custom design. “That was the first all-white kitchen. I found carpenters, got it made, drove it to the site. I was a one-man band and having so much fun. It started to take off.”
Eighteen years later, there’s no plan to leave. “England’s definitely home—we have family there. But this is home, too.” He and Jayne have become American citizens. “It’s cool—you take a test, get sworn in, and they give you a flag. The U.S. has been amazing for me.”
In September of 2008, Peacock sold his business to the publicly held British group Smallbone PLC—a fateful decision. “The recession killed the whole thing,” he says. Share prices crashed, and Barclays Bank put Smallbone into receivership. Fortunately, Peacock was able to buy his own company back. “But going through the process was horrible, seeing this baby of mine destroyed. We’re smaller, but it’s good to be back in business again. In 2010, we’ll be gaining momentum.” There are plans to open a showroom at the factory in West Virginia and to expand into other areas of home design.
Back in the present, 15-year-old Jack wanders into the kitchen, looking for the crickets he needs to feed his lizards. Scruffy, the cockapoo, leaps onto a stool to have her head scratched. Jayne, tall, blonde, and energetic, arrives home with groceries, offering cups of tea.
Hmmm…the round table in the bay window has a scuffed surface. Suddenly the elegant Peacock kitchen truly seems like the comfortable heart of a family’s home. “I love to cook, and so does Jayne,” Peacock says. “This really gets used.”
And his drums? “In the basement. Sound- proofed!”
Freelance writer Lynn Hazlewood has a kitchen in High Falls, Ulster County, that's the same size as Christopher Peacock's kitchen. And there, sadly, the similarity ends.