What started with a fixer-upper in 1998 has grown into a three-building compound shaped by changing codes—and long-term thinking.
In 1998, when architects Lisa Chadbourne and Daren Doss bought a modest Craftsman on a large, slightly scruffy lot in Seattle’s Central District, they were drawn less to the home itself than to the property’s potential.
"We always thought, wow, we could do something with this," Lisa recalls.
At the time, "something" meant fixing up the existing house and, eventually, carving out space to work. In 2005, after a zoning change allowed detached accessory dwelling units, the couple—who are the founders and principals of Chadbourne + Doss Architects—built a compact backyard studio. It functioned as an office, guesthouse, and creative testing ground; a flexible structure that hinted at the site’s long-term prospects.
Lisa Chadbourne and Daren Doss’s L-shaped home creates private courtyards on the 7,600-square-foot Seattle lot they’ve gradually developed over the last 27 years. The black AEP Span Nu-Wave corrugated siding requires zero maintenance, and Loewen aluminum-clad mixed-grain fir windows and doors anchor the high-performance envelope.
The 1,013-square-foot residence parts from convention with a split-level plan, swooping built-ins, and soaring interiors.
Houses We Love: Every day we feature a remarkable space submitted by our community of architects, designers, builders, and homeowners. Have one to share? Post it here.
From the Architect: "In the heart of the old village center of Nigtevecht, nestled in one a characteristic street near the water, stands Lichthuis. Inspired by the challenging shape of the plot, two volumes slide together like puzzle pieces to make the most of the narrow, tapering space. From the street, it appears to be just another small house in the row, albeit a wooden one.
"But once you step across the threshold, floors appear to float as light pours in from all directions. Panoramic windows frame the greenery like a living painting. The split-level floors strengthen the connection to the outdoors, drawing the rolling landscape inside. Exactly where the two building sections meet, a diamond-shaped skylight opens up the roof to an abundance of natural daylight. The boundary between inside and outside blurs completely. Thanks to the overhead lighting, the varying levels, and the low, continuous windows, the house feels much more spacious than its square footage suggests. The exposed wooden construction does the rest.
"Throughout the day, the sunlight enters the house in ever-changing ways. This enhances the interplay of fluid spaces and intimate nooks where you can retreat for a moment. The deep window niche between the kitchen and the living room invites you to curl up and relax. The living room sits just a touch higher, creating a cozy, sheltered atmosphere without losing its connection to the rest of the house. Even the bathroom seems to float; you enter via an exciting little bridge, only to find yourself in a snug cocoon with ‘peek-holes’ looking out.
"Thanks to the vapor-permeable timber frame construction and natural wood-wool insulation, the house literally and figuratively breathes. A heat pump and underfloor heating ensure constant comfort. This is a place where you’ll want to walk barefoot, heading toward that one corner where the sun hits just right. It is a house that embraces you, with a lightness felt in every room.
"Behind all the architectural details lies plenty of practical convenience. The three children's bedrooms utilize the full height of the house, each featuring its own loft bed in the ridge, while the master bedroom enjoys the luxury of an ensuite bathroom. At the front of the house, there is a workspace/studio, accessible via both the main entrance and its own private side entrance. For daily family life, there is the ideal, ‘pleasantly messy’ utility room with its own back entrance—the perfect spot to drop your gear after sports or grab your boots when it rains. Storage is also plentiful: a large, semi-sunken shed is located beneath the living room. In short: it is a spacious home truly designed for living."
Designed by A. Quincy Jones and Frederick Emmons, the Harlan Lee House has floor-to-ceiling windows, mountain views, an interior courtyard, and a lush pool area.
From the Agent:"Originally commissioned for developer Harlan Lee and featured as the Good Housekeeping Model House, this residence epitomizes a ‘dream house with young ideas’ that defined the era’s innovative spirit. Classic post-and-beam construction with soaring ceilings, and floor-to-ceiling glass walls seamlessly connects the interior to the lush landscaping and swimming pool. The living room is centered around a minimalist open fireplace. With over 2,200 square feet of living space, this four-bedroom/three-bath midcentury refuge also features an additional flex space with separate entrance, ideal for a studio/home office. Situated on over a third acre in Tarzana’s Royal Homes subdivision, the home’s terraced lot offers views of the valley and mountains. Described by Good Housekeeping as ‘a house with the outdoors built in,’ this property represents a rare opportunity to live in a piece of architectural history that has been preserved as a living experience of 1960s modernism."
It juts, twists, and turns to follow spaces between the trees, appearing to suspend living spaces in midair.
Houses We Love: Every day we feature a remarkable space submitted by our community of architects, designers, builders, and homeowners. Have one to share? Post it here.
From the Architect: "A place immersed in lush Atlantic rainforest nature. A terrain filled with large leafy trees, foliage, shrubs, birds, and wild animals. A challenging topography with a steep slope, characteristic of the Nova Lima region in Minas Gerais. This is the place where Casa Açucena is inserted.
"The project is a response to a sensitive reading of the place. In its first contact with this terrain, the need to maintain the natural characteristics is already clear. The act of looking upward, from the ground to the canopy of trees, elevated up to fifty feet above ground level, was decisive for the creation of the concept. How to build in a place with such a steep topography, while maintaining the original nature? How to give the residents the daily experience of looking up and seeing the sky through the treetops. These were the questions that guided all design decisions.
"The belief that architecture should mold to the terrain, and not the other way around, was the starting point. The house rises above the ground and the animal and plant life develops underneath. The program shapes itself by occupying the empty spaces between the trees, none of which were removed. The topography was left changed. From this point on, no choice or design decision was made by taste or will of the architect. Everything is a response and is intended to reinforce the concept.
"The house, in its white color, is a surprise to those who arrive. Its randomly placed black pillars blend in with the trunks. The house seems to float. Its fluid plan, a result of the program's occupation among the trees, and its openings and folds in the slab to reach the view of the treetops, generate the geometry. The architecture is harmoniously inserted next to the natural vegetation, while maintaining its presence."
Hospitality brand Eleven’s offerings cater to a specific kind of monied traveler. Staying—and heli-skiing—at one of its Tarentaise Valley chalets after thriftier spots confirmed the magic of Europe’s alpine huts at any price point.
Welcome to One Night In, a series about staying in the most unparalleled places available to rest your head.
Ultimately, there is no way to tell people you’re going to the Alps to ski for a month without sounding obnoxious. "Skiing is actually cheaper there!" I exclaim. (True, ski passes at the largest resorts in Europe are less expensive than those at my local hill in the Hudson Valley.) "I’ll be working the whole time!" I insist. (Also true, the blessings of the time difference with the east coast means that I can ski all morning and work all afternoon, ideally with an Aperol spritz…I mean, a glass of water.) But at the end of the day, you must accept and admit that being able to do such a thing is an extraordinary privilege.
Still, on my own monthlong Alps ski trip, that privilege has limits. For the first three weeks of March, I’m staying at the cheapest Airbnbs I can find. I’m dragging my just-under-50-lbs-to-avoid-overweight-fees-baggage on trains and buses all over Switzerland and France. I’m partaking in a few nice meals but mostly buying sandwich fixings and yogurt from the grocery store. Please applaud my thrift.
Yet in the final few days, at the very end of the month, I get the opportunity to rocket myself into the upper echelons of the European Ski experience. Eleven, a hospitality company with a dozen lodges scattered worldwide, many in remote locations, has caught my eye for its stated mission: a desire to blend adrenaline-pumping activity with luxury accommodations—an all-inclusive experience that starts at several thousand dollars a night. Though you can go to one of their lodges just to unwind, Eleven courts a particular breed of high-rolling but high-energy guest. The brand name itself originates from the scene in Spinal Tap when Christopher Guest tells the camera the amps go up to 11. Each day at an Eleven lodge comes jam-packed with a tailored outdoor adventure—depending on the location and season, a blend of guided skiing, hiking, fly-fishing, mountain biking, and mountaineering.
"What we tried to create was, you have an amazing adventure and then you come back to an equally well-designed, layered space," says Blake Pike, who founded Eleven with her husband Chad and handles the brand’s design through her studio, Twelve Interiors, when I speak to her after my visit. "I wanted to feel almost like you’re coming home."
Conveniently for my purposes, Eleven has two chalets close to where I’ll already be in France during my marathon ski month. When I write to them on a wing and a prayer before the trip, suggesting I cover the chalets for Dwell’s "One Night In" series, I expect to either not hear anything. I’m thrilled when they write back to welcome me for a comped multiday stay.
Both Chalet Hibou, where I stayed, and the neighboring Chalet Pelerin (pictured at top) are located in the historic hamlet of Le Miroir in France’s Tarentaise Valley.
Courtesy Eleven
Thursday
3 p.m.: The first luxury, in four days of luxuries, is that Eleven has sent a driver to pick me up at my previous location in Meribel Motarret. We drive for an hour and a half into the scenic Tarentaise Valley before we arrive in the village of Saint Foy. Eleven owns two neighboring properties, Chalets Hibou and Pelerin, which sit near the top of a narrow and winding stone road in the small hamlet of Le Miroir.
Stepping out of the sleek black sprinter van, I immediately note that there is no flashy signage or garish parking lot, no locked gates or high fences the way you might expect from a luxury resort. Laundry hangs on a clothing line next door; a chicken roams in the neighboring yard. The chalets are at once stately and beautiful, yet unobtrusive. I notice their sturdy stone bases, their wooden upper floors and dark slate roofs. The exterior wooden stairs and balconies are being allowed to weather naturally into a dark charcoal. I initially assume the chalets were built several hundred years ago, contemporaneously with much of the surrounding architecture. I’m surprised to learn, several days into my stay, that they actually encompass work from three distinct periods, across three different centuries.
The initial construction of Hibou, the chalet I’ll be staying in, likely dates to the 1700s, and would have originally been used as an actual farmhouse, complete with wooden haylofts, a stone basement for the animals, and a living area for the families. Pelerin, on the other hand, was built in the 1950s. When Eleven bought the properties in the 2010s, they renovated and expanded both, bringing them into the modern era with geothermal heat pump technology and smart home integration, while maintaining the spirit and bones of the original designs. These choices were made in part due to the brand’s desire to honor the character of the area, though also due to local regulations: the hamlet of Le Miroir falls under the purview of the Architectes des Bâtiments de France, an authority for national heritage and preservation that has strict rules around building exteriors. John Featherman, Eleven’s managing director of assets and development, later told me in an email that following these constraints required careful work with a local architect. "It’s a negotiation, but a healthy one: the regulations protect the very sense of place that drew us here."
At the door, I’m greeted by my "Experience manager," Emeline, who will spend the next several days coordinating every detail of my stay. She’s the picture of calm, friendly competence and she gives me and my fellow guest—another solo female traveler—an initial tour of Hibou.
Walking into the chalet, I’m struck by the most wonderful smell of a flickering candle on an entryway table. While Eleven aims for each of its properties to lean into the local environment and culture in their respective designs, there are a few consistent features that unite all locations. These candles are among them. (In recent years, I’ve tried to "get into candles," thinking, perhaps, that this is what an evolved adult woman should appreciate and also that maybe lighting a scented candle in the evening would magically melt away all my anxieties. The habit has never stuck, although this scent, allegedly "Japanese Quince," may make me a convert.)
Guests at the chalets have quick access to seven nearby ski resorts (left). The living room of Chalet Hibou channels its farmhouse history and alpine lodge present (right).
Courtesy Eleven
Beyond the smell, the entire vibe of the chalet immediately puts me at ease. This is an alpine lodge at heart so there’s of course no shortage of wood—hardwood floors, ceilings, and beams, with some wood-paneled wainscoting, but it doesn’t overwhelm, balanced out by sections of exposed stone. I feel, more than anything, like I’m walking into a home. Emeline shows me to my room. Inside, there’s a vintage armoire, a padded headboard and muted gray walls, thick patterned drapes that match the bed’s bolster pillow, and a fur blanket folded on the foot of the bed. The bathroom has a vintage pull chain toilet (the bathroom fixtures, interestingly enough, are another consistent feature across all Eleven locations) and the floor is a locally sourced stone, Bleu de Savoie.
Joni Mitchell is playing throughout the house speakers, including those in my room, which you can toggle on and off independently in both the bathroom and the bedroom. Prior to my stay, Eleven sent an extensive questionnaire which had some practical questions—ski size and ability, allergies, etc.—but also went further: the lodge uses the music tastes and food preferences of its current guests to curate a chalet playlist and guide menu planning, respectively. Terrified that someone would judge my music taste, I’d left that section blank, though I was very happy to have Blue as the soundtrack to my unpacking.
5 p.m.: There are four floors at Chateau Hibou and it will take me my full four days to really spend time on each. The chalet is grand but never feels overwhelming; each level its own self-contained swaddle, and there are only seven guest rooms. With a couple hours to kill before dinner, I ascend to what will prove to be my favorite area (save for my bed and the hot tub), the high-ceilinged top floor, which houses the kitchen, dining room, and a sunken lounge. There are several seating areas, each framed around coffee tables and fireplaces. "I think it’s important to create a lot of places to sit, because people do like to move through the property," Blake tells me. "It’s not like everyone is congregating in the living room at all times. It’s nice to enjoy different parts of it during the day."
When decor items match, it’s subtle. The pieces, from the lamps to the chair to the art, are a blend of vintage and new buys and custom builds. There’s no copy paste here, and yet the design never clashes or feels kitsch. Many pieces were sourced from a (now sadly out-of-business) secondhand store in Albertville, a 30-minute drive away. "That was just a treasure trove," Blake says. "We’d drive down there and load up just van after van after van. It was as if this entire generation of people were unloading these traditional Savoyard pieces. I was so fortunate and I was able to scoop up so much locally." A good portion of the decor was also sourced from England, at a pre-Brexit time when many French antiques were still flowing into the U.K. (This includes a beautiful flame-stitched Os de Mouton sofa in the Chalet Hibou dining room.)
I settle into an armchair in the lounge, and am approached by Marjorie Dussarrat, another Eleven Experience manager who offers me a glass of champagne and a plate of boquerones. I accept. When in Le Miroir!
Soon enough I’m joined by Mike Hattrup, Eleven’s director of skiing. Mike, chatty and warm, is based in the U.S. but will also be staying at the Chalet over the next few days. He notes my shoeless (but sock-covered) feet. "I wasn’t sure if that was okay!" I say. Normally, I would not walk around a hotel without shoes, particularly one this nice, but Hibou seems to encourage a casual relaxation. This is one of the things he loves about this place, Mike agrees. It’s elegant, but also feels like a place where you can put your feet up on the coffee table.
As part of the all-inclusive Eleven Experience, guests enjoy customized outdoor adventures led by professionals.
From the Agent:"Designed by Oregon architect James Oliver as his private residence, this singular home celebrates craftsmanship and connection to place. A wooden trestle bridge leads to glass doors that open to a secluded, wooded slope. Inside, loosely set stone bricks create a quiet, grounding rhythm underfoot. Spanning multiple levels linked by sculptural spiral staircases, the home reveals inventive details no longer permissible by today’s codes. A catwalk with a glass‑surround niche offers a serene perch for birdwatching. At its core, a 1970s‑era kitchen island anchors a fir breakfast bar and matching circular dining table. Above, a loft once served as Oliver’s sky‑high office, complete with a train track suspended from the ceiling that ran its full length. This lived‑in modern tree house blurs the boundary between architecture and forest."
Photo by Caleb Vandermeer Photography
The home features two fireplaces that are suspended from the ceiling.
Dwell’s visual media producer hit the ground running in Milan with eleven appointments and eight hours to complete them. These were the standouts.
This story is part of Fair Take, our reporting on global design events that looks up close at the newest ideas in fixtures, furnishings, and more.
If you want to really see Milan Design Week, you need a pretty rigid schedule—something I learned last year. Every April, the streets bloom with exhibitions by brands wanting to get in on the action that the main attraction, Salone del Mobile, brings to the city. This year, I did the math and figured I could hit eleven different projects within six and a half hours, as long as I scheduled each appointment 35 minutes apart.
My math was sound. My timeline? Optimistic. But in the eight hours it actually took, we were able to cover a lot of ground. From rug designer Beni’s vivid floor coverings based on the vernacular architecture of Morocco and Italy, to the most recent projects by the descendants of Charles and Ray Eames, to Kelly Wearstler’s collaboration with fashion giant H&M, the projects around town offer a glimpse into how the larger design ecosystem is targeting nostalgia and playing to the domestic, all while pushing for broader audiences. Here’s everything photographer Olga Mai and I saw.
Sophie Lou Jacobsen
Our first stop of the day was a fifth floor apartment in the Città Studi neighborhood, where designer Sophie Lou Jacobsen displayed a collection inspired by the drama of ’70s and ’80s disco. The glassware is studded with Swarovski crystals, the placemats underneath—Jacobsen’s first foray into fabric—are made from a crispy raw silk, and enameled plates make use of copper, used in a way that reminds me of traditional kitchens. The collection could have easily leaned too far into vintage aesthetics, but didn’t, and felt quite refined.
We were lucky to catch Sophie Lou Jacobsen bright and early at the installation, where she walked us through her tableware collection.
