Harry Truman said it was like living in a big white jail. How will the new first family cope with their new home? Will they change the interior of the White House? It may not be the most crucial element on a new president’s agenda, but says historian William Seal, in the FT’s Jan 18th House and Home section, ‘you can be sure it will be one of the most observed and scrutinised things the incoming family will do’.

No decorator has been appointed yet, but as journalist Tony McMullen, goes on to explain, the White House is like a living American museum where there are 40,000 revolving exhibits to choose from its permanent collection, all kept in check by a committee, complete with a curator.

The White House is an unusual genre: it is part office, private home and entertaining and ceremonial venue. It is mixed use par extraordinaire. It possesses elements of a country house hotel or a live-work unit on a grand scale. Somewhere in one’s imagination it might be in between a Roman palace, an 18th century aristocratic home, or even a medieval merchant’s town house.

Regardless, the crucial issue remains the health and happiness of the chief incumbents, as decisions that come from it affect the entire world. Creating a safe and truly comfortable haven for the president and his family is thus vital for our future.

We know that the happiest times of day are around 6 -10 pm, and the place where people spend much of this time is the kitchen. As far as we can tell, the domestic kitchen in the White House is not a sociable place. There is a gap in facilities for the Obama’s family, in terms of chances of intimacy and time together cooking and eating.

For the Johnny Grey Design team, the key question is not the décor, or just creating the perfect kitchen. It’s more fundamental. We think it is necessary not only to create a place for the first family’s well-being, a series of environments that offer sanctuary, as well as offices for staff and spaces for public ceremonies, but also the social heart of the first family’s new home. This is where  a sociable kitchen could truly come into its own and take on a new meaning.

Over the next week, we will be posting vignettes of our imaginary sociable kitchen space for Barack and Michelle and their daughters. We think the new president, as a visionary leader, should use the opportunity to send a public message – both symbolic and practical  – that would be part of his change initiative to make family life happier.

We plan to write an open letter to the president outlining family-friendly proposals as to how design can improve the United States from an eco-based point of view. Watch this space.

© 2008 Rough Luxe

As the global economic crisis plays out, the notion of luxury is clearly up for repositioning. Do you feel guilty about a massage, a fancy handbag or business class travel? Must authentic luxury also be swanky or indulgent? Will morality force luxury underground? Whether it is in shiatsu, gourmet dining or high-end consumer goods, we use the word with a nod toward momentary feelings of cocooning, being treated briefly as kings and queens.

Luxury consumption can convey an I’m-richer-and-smarter-and-cooler-than-you syntax, and yet many of us who rent our luxury in well-earned temporary snatches do not rely upon it, and desire nothing more than occasional, democratic access to it.

I like to think that everyone should taste and enjoy luxury, in a spirit of renewal. My voluptuary spirit says we should take our eyes off harsh realities from time to time, perhaps in part an innate bacchanalian need and a means of getting through hard times.

The culture commentator Stephen Bayley confirms this when he says luxury is about experience, not accumulation. After ten years of brand-conscious acquisition in a time of abundance, less is indeed beginning to feel like more. In his book, Meaning of Things, Deyan Sudjic describes the unfortunate transition of luxury from respite and a form of solace to a sign of status.

And so instead perhaps a new kind of rough luxury emerges, where authenticity gives depth of meaning, rather than, say, the absurdly superficial mollycoddling of a Las Vegas hotel. The mind is engaged, not just the body, as something real is offered: the anchor of a sense of place and culture, and where care and good will are also part of the package.

In London’s Kings Cross the first “rough luxe” hotel has opened, and I’d rather stay in such a place. It helps that the building is old, and its restoration shows its history. It’s a personal and real place with depth of character; there are no fake columns or equally phony staff who show little genuine personality.

Here is my fantasy of luxury: an outdoor bath with a view of the mountains; a shiatsu massage; my handmade table all set to enjoy a long lunch with family and friends, in a welcoming kitchen with a beautiful work of art above the fireplace. It’s a combination of respect for objects and place, and a real experience shared with those I love and admire.