Sparse rooms, dotted with hand-hewn wood furniture, is the image that may come to mind when thinking of Swedish design. But that trope is what architect and designer Andreas Martin-Löf and his client, fashion journalist Sofi Fahrman, were trying to avoid when designing the 4,800-square-foot Stockholm flat for her and her husband, businessman Filip Engelbert. “Our mood board was very Parisian,” says Fahrman. For Martin-Löf, however, his primary mission was embracing the building’s past. “In Sweden, people are a little bit afraid of things that look old,” he says. “But my architecture relates to both a building’s history and its future.”
The property, originally built in 1917, possessed no shortage of historical intrigue. It was once home to Ivar Kreuger, the disgraced matchstick mogul known as the Leonardo of Larcenists for his Ponzi scheme business dealings. Unfortunately for Fahrman and Engelbert, their unit, located directly below Kreuger’s one-time abode, had been marred by a gut renovation in the 2000s, which had stripped out most of the original details. But a fortuitous meeting with the elderly current tenant of Kreuger’s former apartment allowed them to understand precisely what was missing. “I went there with my measuring tape,” Martin-Löf recalls of his visit to the domestic time capsule, which he describes as “Rothschild-style” for its dark-stained wood-paneled walls, carved door frames, and grand staircase reminiscent of those in Gilded Age Manhattan mansions.
Such drama may seem like a far cry from Martin-Löf’s work—the Swedish architect is best known for his minimalist houses wrought in noble materials and luxe custom yachts—but his skills lie in an innate ability to gracefully layer styles and eras. For instance, in the living room, sheer curtains flood the cream-colored room with light, bouncing off a pair of amoeba-shaped brass coffee tables and a spiral Murano glass chandelier. A custom curving sofa upholstered with Pierre Frey velvet echoes the shape of the rounded bay windows and is balanced by two cross-hatched Croisillon armchairs by Jean Royère and a vintage Italian sideboard. In the sprawling primary suite, the dark-stained boiserie recalls the home’s original wooden paneling, while on the walls and ceiling, cornices and carved door frames create texture. “The patterns are based on ones I found upstairs,” Martin-Löf says. “We brought the house to life by having a strong connection to its history.”
