Patricia Voto’s Upper East Side Showroom Feels Like a Dream Apartment—Because It Is

Reported by Vogue.

There's a particular kind of magic in a space that makes you forget it's a place of business. Patricia Voto's Upper East Side showroom, One/Of, pulls this off completely — partly by design, partly because it is, in fact, her apartment. For five years, Voto has been living and working in the same sunlit space on East 70th Street, welcoming clients for fittings amid the everyday architecture of her own life. Now, after a full reimagining by interior designer Britt Zunino, the space has caught up to the clothes — and to Voto herself.

According to Vogue, One/Of operates on a philosophy as deliberate as its name: every piece Voto makes is singular, constructed from deadstock and surplus Italian fabrics sourced from the same mills supplying houses like Oscar de la Renta, Marc Jacobs, and Prada. Voto came up through labels including Altuzarra and Rosie Assoulin, and that training lives in the work — tailored romance built from what already exists, rerouted into something entirely new. The process demands real presence: clients come to her, sit with her, and move through the decision-making together. The room was always doing half the work. Now it knows it.

A Space That Earns Its Softness

Zunino, a founding partner of Studio DB, came to the redesign with an unusual edge — she'd already been a One/Of client, commissioning a dress and living the full experience before touching a single wall. Their shared language was immediate. The entry vestibule is wrapped in a dense geometric brocade that conceals the apartment's private doors; a small chinoiserie fixture catches the light overhead; Voto's husky rescue, Rico, is frequently sprawled nearby. The main room unfolds in Benjamin Moore's Misty Blush, its walls framed by slightly deeper pink molding, the ceiling covered in Calico Supernova — a gilded, starburst-scattered wallpaper Zunino co-designed with Calico, its surface referencing embroidery and fine jewelry. Gold reads first. Then everything else reveals itself slowly. Surfaces throughout are layered with objects that feel genuinely gathered: shell candlesticks by Sylvie MacMillan, a sculptural vase by Sophia Lou Jacobsen, lacquered Chinese side tables from IME Vintage.

The further in you go, the more personal it gets. A bathroom mural by Mitchell Moon sprawls across the walls and ceiling in looping, organic forms — it expanded incrementally with each of the artist's visits, growing almost by instinct. The bedroom, painted in a quiet mossy green, was the last room finished; for years it was where the apartment retreated from itself. Quilted bedding from Studio Ford, a Sixpenny sofa, lamps from Tennant New York — it reads like a room that finally exhaled. Each morning before clients arrive, the whole apartment is reset: floors vacuumed, curtains straightened, candles lit. Most visitors never suspect a thing. "People always ask, 'Do you live in the area?'" Voto says. "And I'm like, um — yeah. In the area."

When the place where you work, create, and sleep is all one room, the line between the personal and the professional stops being a line at all — and that, it turns out, is exactly the point.

Read the original at Vogue.