Featuring 32 African American design stars, Alton LaDay’s new book, “In The House: Celebrating America’s Leading Black Interior Designers,” besides being extremely beautiful and revelatory, is nothing short of astonishing.
The story told is long, long overdue. For if “Style and Grace, African Americans at Home,” which I wrote in 2002, was the first work devoted to exclusively chronicling decors created by Black interior decorators, nearly a quarter century later, LaDays’ book is the first to document the extent to which Black creatives have at last found a place in one of the nation’s most exclusive professions.
If the lingering underrepresentation of Black interior designers might lead some to hope such an effort would be all-inclusive, fair warning — it is not. Indeed, some practitioners long considered foremost in their field, including Sheila Bridges, Elaine Griffin, Henry Mitchell, Cheryl Riley, and Corey Damen Jenkins, are conspicuously absent. In their place are newer voices like Tiffany Brooks, Elliott Barnes, Forbes Masters, Ishka Designs, and Amber Guyton, alongside longtime favorites like Harlem’s Keita Turner and Ken Woodson, who lives in Lisbon and Los Angeles. Whatever their methodology, each is supremely accomplished — and what all do best is help people create spaces that express who they truly are.
We are all too aware of how advisable it is these days to enlist white friends and give a house that’s offered for sale the appearance of having a white owner. “Is there such a thing as Black Style?,” I asked Harlem gadabout and scholar Grafton Trew long ago. His answer was informative: “While neither Black artwork, nor Black books alone, necessarily betray a room as the work of an African American decorator, what does is a positive thing, a certain subtlety and approach. We might sometimes be extravagant and even flamboyant. But because of heritage and experience, we are always pragmatic and inventive. Where there’s a will, there’s a way. You will not find any insipid decor credited to most decorators who are Black. If nothing else, we know how the most economical way to create impact or a particular mood in a room, comes from what paint color, wallpaper, upholstery or curtain pattern one selects.”
A son of Texas, Alton LaDay is the founder and principal of Alton LaDay Media, a public relations and consulting agency focused on the decorative arts. Educated at the University of Houston, LaDay began his career as marketing director for the Decorative Center Houston. He’s happily married to Jonathon Glus, a cultural strategist, civic leader, and arts administrator whose work centers on enhancing cities through arts.
Beyond an ignored array of gifted Black designers, his fantastic book came about for many reasons, LaDay says. One was the opportunity to undertake the formidable project of righting the record offered by inactivity during the COVID-19 pandemic. Poignantly, there was also LaDay’s desire in the aftermath of George Floyd’s slaying, with the emergence of Black Lives Matter, to do something restorative and hopeful himself addressing age-old injustice. Then, just as things began to fall into place, the would-be novice author suffered a stroke. He was told he’d never walk again.
If for now, aided by a smart walking stick, he does walk, with many eager to assist in such a worthy endeavor. Touchingly in the introduction to “In the House,” LaDay writes, “Making this book has truly been a labor of love, not just in interviewing the designers featured, but engaging with the personalities encountered along the way.
There were many, but perhaps the most impressive and engaging was Michael Henry Adams, the architectural/cultural historian and historic preservationist.”
What I sought to impress upon LaDay is one of the most valuable lessons there is — important for Black Americans and white Americans alike. If one measure of enduring white supremacy is that African Americans still find themselves becoming firsts, year after year, in field after field, the history of interior design offers a counter-narrative: we have been here, and we have excelled, long before anyone thought to notice.
In a display ad dated September 26, 1936, the AmNews documented the near universal admiration of an elegant but enigmatic designer from Trinidad. His brilliant work saw white competitors trekking up to Harlem for inspiration. It read:
“In Appreciation…Mr. ALPHA SOGATA
The management of the SAVOY BALLROOM wishes to express its deep appreciation to its decorator … for the splendid transformation of the SAVOY BALLROOM. The public acclamation is gratifying to the Management and we feel very happy in publicly expressing our appreciation. The Management”
By the following year, in Harlem at least, Sogata, as he insisted on calling himself, was no more. This was also true of scrupulously trained Harold Curtis Brown. The son of Birmingham’s Dr. Arthur McKinnon Brown, moving to Harlem in 1923, he decorated the original Cotton Club and devised chic interiors for Strivers’ Row and Sugar Hill socialites like Berenia Austin and Binga and Geraldyn Dismond. His vanishing was reported in the Black press as an economic inevitability, “Clever interior decorator of Washington, D.C. and New York in the person of Curtis Brown, whom we hadn’t seen for several years. The reason why we Harlemites haven’t seen the dashing and handsome former social elite is because … he has gone and done that thing at last … What we are trying to say is that Curtis has crossed the line and his address is downtown, Fifth Arena, in one of those tall skyscrapers. Gentlemen prefer blondes, but Curtis prefers the old do-re-mi, which is as it should be.”
Reflecting on his exemplary achievement, acknowledging the satisfaction that comes from examining the past to find oneself, LaDay notes, “I definitely see myself as a documentarian of design … I find myself constantly surrounded by creativity, talent, and brilliant imaginations, and often in glorious surroundings. Not a bad way to spend one’s days, honestly.” This is something he hopes to emphasize to kids today so that they might decide to become the design superstars of the future.
Cheryl Riley has reflected how skeptical her parents were about her decision to study design. Similarly, my father insisted that becoming an interior designer was an impossibility for an African American. Just 13, when I asked “Why?,” my father responded, “Because only white people hire interior designers.” When I replied, “So?,” he reiterated, “They won’t employ you!” I rebounded with, “They will if I’m good!”
Referencing the superb work of Black designers his book gives new prominence to, LaDay refutes my dad’s pessimistic outlook. Instead of discouragement, he offers faith, “My hope is their narratives will resonate with readers and inspire them to engage one of the designers in a project, while others will be emboldened to pursue a career of their own in the design industry.”
This might seem ambitious, but in terms of raising expectations, “In The House” is sure to do that and much more. Of course this assessment, cursory at best, only reveals the tiniest part of a book which is a richly endowed and marvelous universe. And If it’s beauty and inspiration you’re looking for, hurry, go out and get a copy today.











