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"View Slideshow\n\nThe acclaimed French designer Jacques Grange was destined to possess his Paris apartment, once home to the novelist Colette. &amp;quot;It came to me,&amp;quot; says the tall charmer, wearing a cashmere sweater, jeans and brown-and-white pony-skin loafers. &amp;quot;I was selected by the family of Colette.&amp;quot;\n\nHe is not exaggerating. After Colette died in 1954, her floor-through overlooking the lush gardens of the Palais Royal remained in the family until 1990, when Colette&amp;#39;s stepdaughter offered it to Grange. &amp;quot;This flat is for you,&amp;quot; he recalls her telling him. &amp;quot;When I told her I had no money, she rented it to me.&amp;quot;\n\nSeven years ago she told him to buy it. Luckily, this time he could, and did\u2014quickly. As things would have it, she unexpectedly died six months later. Since then Grange has redone the place twice. The first time, he says, the d&amp;#39;cor was &amp;quot;more Colette,&amp;quot; with books everywhere and &amp;quot;charming works by 19th-century artists.&amp;quot; Colette not only wrote some of her more than 50 books here, seated by a window overlooking the plane trees\u2014including the memoir Paris de Ma Fen\u00EAtre\u2014but she also entertained Jean-Paul Sartre and her Palais Royal neighbor Jean Cocteau.\n\nThree years ago Grange decided to overhaul the space completely, with new wiring, restored floors, new architecture (18th-century-style cornices, a redesigned skylight, an oak-paneled library) and a different palette. He redid the five rooms (though he kept his Irving Penn portrait and a bust of Colette) and painted most of them a pastel gray with white moldings.\n\nGrange may be one of the most revered designers in France, but his apartment does not appear &amp;quot;decorated&amp;quot; in the conventional sense. He says it is &amp;quot;the house of a collector,&amp;quot; a showcase for favorite paintings, sculptures, &amp;quot;found&amp;quot; art and furnishings from the 18th, 19th and 20th centuries. &amp;quot;It&amp;#39;s now a place to display and balance in harmony the things I love,&amp;quot; he says.\n\nHis unique way of mixing elements becomes apparent the moment you step into the entrance hall, which has an unlikely assortment of 20th-century art. It is dominated by a red painting by the contemporary English artist Rachel Howard. Beneath it is a console held up by two S\u00E8vres porcelain ostriches, an amusing 1970 creation by the French artist Fran\u00E7ois-Xavier Lalanne, a very un-D&amp;#39;co-like 1925 leather-and-wood armchair, a chandelier in the shape of an unfurled cloth by Man Ray and some art photographs, including a 1950 Irving Penn portrait of a Grange favorite, the French painter and set designer Christian B&amp;#39;rard. &amp;quot;I met Lalanne in 1968,&amp;quot; Grange explains. &amp;quot;And I knew about B&amp;#39;rard because he designed things for Jean-Michel Frank.&amp;quot; (The library has a famous B&amp;#39;rard triptych.)\n\nGrange has been buying art for over 40 years. &amp;quot;I bought a Toulouse-Lautrec when I was 18,&amp;quot; he says. He has always haunted galleries and museums, and some of his clients (Fran\u00E7ois Pinault, Ronald Lauder, Daryl and Steven Roth, and Debbie and Leon Black) are among today&amp;#39;s most serious art collectors.\n\nThe Grange art show continues next door, in a pale gray salon where a huge Sugimoto black-and-white photo, The Black Sea, from 1991, takes center stage, along with a tall ebony piece by Alexandre Noll and a Donald Judd sculpture. Opposite them is a life-size photo from 1985 of an old friend: Madeleine Castaing, the legendary Paris antiques dealer and decorator who introduced the got anglais to France after World War II. (&amp;quot;From her I learned the poetry of decorating,&amp;quot; he says.)\n\nUnlike many designers today, Grange received a strict, classical education. When he was still a teenager, he attended Paris&amp;#39;s &amp;#39;cole Boulle, a traditional trade school that taught weaving, plastering, cabinetmaking and other basic crafts. &amp;quot;If I&amp;#39;m a success, it&amp;#39;s all due to my mother, who told me to go to that school,&amp;quot; he says.\n\nHe then attended the &amp;#39;cole Camondo, a school of interior design, to learn the history of architecture, design and the decorative arts. After graduation he joined the staff of the incomparable Henri Samuel. &amp;quot;I was 23, and everything was possible,&amp;quot; he recalls. &amp;quot;I wanted to work for M. Samuel\u2014he was like a king\u2014and start decorating immediately. I&amp;#39;d been interested in nothing else since I was 15. It was my passion.&amp;quot; Years later he opened his own design office at the shop of Didier Aaron, the Paris antiquaire, and he is now partners with Didier&amp;#39;s son, Herv&amp;#39; Aaron.\n\nThis background explains how he effortlessly combines, in the small salon, a round mahogany Louis XVI table with a classic bronze 1930 Jean-Michel Frank console and a wild contemporary chandelier by Ron Arad. &amp;quot;I&amp;#39;m like a sponge,&amp;quot; he says. &amp;quot;At first, decorating is a profession. After that, you can build a style.&amp;quot;\n\nThe living room is equally eclectic: Above the contemporary carpet from Iran float a comfortable, 19th-century chaise longue, a Jean Roy\u00E8re low table from 1950, two boxy 1925 club chairs, an Emilio Terry chair from 1940, a Jean-Michel Frank armchair from 1930 and an 18th-century desk. &amp;quot;It&amp;#39;s important to show 18th-century things that are simple and nice,&amp;quot; he says. &amp;quot;The Louis XVI period is perfect for the Palais Royal.&amp;quot;\n\nIt is a grand, comfortable room, but here again, the artwork takes priority. A gigantic Damien Hirst painting covers one wall. &amp;quot;I bought it five years ago but didn&amp;#39;t put it up until recently,&amp;quot; he says. &amp;quot;It has the quality of all great art: First it shocks you, then you realize it&amp;#39;s great.&amp;quot;\n\nNext door the master bedroom, which is lined in horsehair, combines a Mattia Bonetti contemporary cabinet, stark white with brightly colored circles, with another B&amp;#39;rard, a Mir\u00F3, a Mapplethorpe nude, an Aubrey Beardsley drawing and a 19th-century English teapot. &amp;quot;I don&amp;#39;t select things for a spot just because I like them but because it&amp;#39;s the right place for them,&amp;quot; he says. &amp;quot;Things that don&amp;#39;t fit I put in another place.&amp;quot;\n\nThe chandelier in the bath, a confection of gilt fern fronds, once graced the bedroom of Madeleine Castaing. The sculpture beneath it, in white S\u00E8vres porcelain, is by Louise Bourgeois. &amp;quot;I don&amp;#39;t want to stay with established taste,&amp;quot; Grange says. &amp;quot;I like to take risks.&amp;quot;\n\nThe dining room offers new surprises, some of them American (an Arts and Crafts Movement lantern designed by Greene Greene circa 1900 and a Harry Bertoia bronze). Here\u2014beneath an immense skylight he designed in a Cubist style\u2014Grange entertains his friends, rarely more than eight at a time, and, like Colette, he has the enviable privilege of ordering take-out from the restaurant downstairs: the venerable Michelin-three-star favorite Le Grand V&amp;#39;four, which hasn&amp;#39;t changed its d&amp;#39;cor in 200 years.\n\nThe room is another cultural pileup, with a 12th-century Iranian tile, a Wedgwood coupe, Louis XVI chairs and a fine first-century Roman marble torso. &amp;quot;I love to go to antiques shops,&amp;quot; he says. &amp;quot;I used to go to the flea markets in New York and Paris; now I shop in Russia and China.&amp;quot;\n\nGrange is a whirlwind of energy, hopping between continents and clients. &amp;quot;I&amp;#39;m lucky I&amp;#39;m not a dancer,&amp;quot; he says, with an engaging laugh. &amp;quot;I can work until the day I die.&amp;quot;"^^<http://www.w3.org/2001/XMLSchema#string>
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