Moving to the cityside suburb of Grey Lynn — and finding purpose in a do-up villa — has allowed an architect and her family to embrace the perfection of imperfection.
Let it be. The Beatles might have sung it best, but architect Rebecca Walker incorporates this art of mindful acceptance into her daily life. Yes, her career is one that leans towards aesthetic perfectionism, but the Instagram image of domestic diligence (cue Meghan Markle collecting honey in a white blouson and arranging fruit into a rainbow arc for breakfast) against a hyper-curated backdrop seldom gels with reality. So, if the floors of the city-fringe villa in Tāmaki Makaurau/Auckland that she shares with her husband, Daimhin, and their 14-year-old son, Alfie, are sloped enough for a marble race… she embraces that. And if the windows and over-lights throughout the home are somewhat mismatched… that’s part of the charm. Or if the cats run in from the wet grass leaving tiny pawprints across the dining table… deep breaths.
Yet, it was harder for her to just let it be when discussions began about selling the new-build she had designed for their family in nearby Mount Albert in favour of this worst-house, best-street do-up. “Those were some tough conversations,” she admits. The long-term plan had always been to shift to this area. “We love Grey Lynn’s walkability,” says Rebecca. “And my husband, who is from Northern Ireland, loves the London plane trees: they feel familiar.”
That’s how in 2020, two flats (one up, one down) in a bad state of disrepair with a back deck that was a death trap became their entry into the suburb. “We were the only bidders at auction — others probably took one look and turned tail,” laughs Rebecca. Built in 1913, the transitional villa had bungalow features (including casement windows and plaster cornices) mixed in with turned-wood detailing and a high stud. An unremarkable garden, with no easy connection to the house, a living zone in a low-pitched addition and a kitchen with a handmade mosaic splashback topped off the deal.
Although it all gave off definite 90s vibes, Rebecca and Daimhin could see the future. Spatially, their in-house architect had the new layout sussed — working in Auckland meant upgrading character homes was totally in her wheelhouse — and decoratively they had a modern family-friendly mood in mind. The list of structural changes was short: add a stairwell to link the two levels, knock out a wall between a split toilet and bathroom to make a more luxurious space, and push the kitchen forward so they could change the bedroom closest to it into a lounge. Then, as is the way with 100-year-old homes, the remedial work began: strengthening and straightening walls, modernising electricals, renovating windows that were nailed shut, reintroducing missing components and polishing the original floors.
The idea was to reimagine the upstairs for adults and create a teen zone below in the former student flat. Here, an exposed sub-floor beam with traditional jointing was retained and gives the hangout lounge some architectural mana. “I could have replaced it with a steel beam hidden in the floor plane,” says Rebecca, “but I love its texture and history.” Alfie, who is into gaming and weightlifting, wanted the biggest, darkest bedroom for himself. Perfect! While new timber flooring and a light paint scheme give this level a visual lift, a door at the top of the new stairs ensures soundproofing and privacy for young and not so young.
While Alfie may be pumping iron, hosting friends or fighting virtual battles below, Rebecca and Daimhin can be entertaining at the dining table that is at the heart of the kitchen, without any background interference. In the kitchen, Rebecca made two unusual moves: she opted for a design that wraps around two walls without an island, and didn’t see the need to have the living room in the same open-plan zone. “It’s important to me to have a huge dining table,” says Rebecca. “I feel an island can remove the cook slightly from the conversation.”
An Arabescato Corchia marble splashback that runs the length of the side wall is the star of the show here. “That was my bargaining chip,” laughs Rebecca. “If I was to leave our previous new-build, I was allowed to have as much marble as I liked.” One part of its striking inky patterning has become a talking point, acting like a Rorschach test: some people see lungs and a spine, others a fly’s head with its compound eyes. Cabinetry in dark-charcoal lacquer picks up on the colour of the marble’s striations and is a smart contrast within the white-painted room. On the back wall, bi-fold doors hide a scullery, pantry and integrated fridge.
Marble is naturally a feature of the bathrooms too, draping the custom-made vanities in deep green against a black/white palette of tile and tapware that is crisply contemporary.
In the living room, squidgy leather sofas are great for a movie or a cuddle with the couple’s five-year-old grand-daughter, Luna, who now has her own bedroom when she comes to visit. The lounge is a cosy, intimate space with a glimpse of the garden, while the nearby dining room gets the grandstand view. The couple replaced the deck and stepped it down to a second lower level to bridge the dip in the landform, so that now there’s a natural flow from inside to out.
In the north-facing back garden, tūī and kererū often visit a statement pūriri, a coral bark maple glows bright pink in winter and black cherry tomatoes grown in raised vegetable beds make a showstopper addition to salads and tarts. It’s these small pleasures that populate the everyday, plus the fact that Rebecca and Daimhin can walk to their shared office (or the gym, yoga and supermarket), that have made the move here so worthwhile. The floors might still be on an angle and the couple no longer has an ensuite, but the community is close-knit and the neighbours amenable when they need a particular street park to charge their electric car.
So yes, it was a wrench to leave the house she designed from scratch, but Rebecca has no regrets. Grey Lynn is a location she always knew she’d love: “I feel fully bedded in.”
Words Claire McCall
Photography Simon Wilson