Inside the bar with the Pantone books. Fans held against the brass Staircase No 8 plaque, the glazed brown dado tiles, the grey plaster. Test prints of the diamond pattern taped up next to the banquettes to see how they read across the room.
The interior is nearly there now: chandeliers up, chairs in, that long low light. The wallpaper has to earn its place against all of it.
Some colours that sang in the studio die in here. The oranges hold.
Part of The Palace Is a Refuge.