Some homes whisper their stories. Others, like this 1950s Spanish revival reimagined by House of Rolison, speak in paragraphs—bold yet intimate, dramatic yet grounded. When design principals Amanda Leigh and Taylor Hahn first stepped inside, what they found was a home with beautiful bones and a chaotic past. “It felt like a grand old soul that had been through a few rough makeovers,” they recalled. “The vibe was all over the place. We knew immediately we wanted to simplify, strip things back, and let the architecture breathe again.”

The result is a moody, collected residence that reads like a love letter to slow living and soulful design. At once cinematic and comforting, this five-bedroom, seven-bath home in Los Angeles feels less like a renovation and more like a reclamation. It’s a study in restraint, revival, and the art of letting good bones do the talking.

At the core of House of Rolison’s design philosophy is a reverence for narrative—of place, of materials, of evolution. “We wanted it to feel transportive—but in a grounded, intimate way,” Amanda says. “There’s a fine line between drama and comfort, and our goal was to land right in that sweet spot.”

To honor the home’s Spanish revival character without becoming pastiche, the team approached the renovation like curating a well-balanced playlist: architectural soul intact, with a few contemporary remixes. The vaulted ceilings and exposed beams remain, now elevated by custom skylights that turn the daylight into a moving art installation. Light became, as they put it, their “silent design partner,” guiding choices from wall texture to material contrast. “Light moves through the house in a way that makes even a quiet moment feel cinematic.”

“We wanted the kitchen to feel like it belonged to the architecture, not just the floor plan,” Taylor explains. “It’s functional, yes—but we also wanted it to feel like a space you’d want to linger in, even if you’re just there for snacks and gossip.”

If the home’s architecture is the frame, the kitchen is the heart. Centered around a commanding custom stone arch and surrounded by handcrafted oak cabinetry and leathered dark marble counters, the space manages to feel ancient and modern all at once. “We wanted the kitchen to feel like it belonged to the architecture, not just the floor plan,” Taylor explains. “It’s functional, yes—but we also wanted it to feel like a space you’d want to linger in, even if you’re just there for snacks and gossip.”

The team’s advice for readers hoping to create a similarly moody kitchen without sacrificing warmth? Start with materials that feel alive—wood, stone, plaster—and “skip the glossy finishes.” A tight, contrast-driven palette and textured surfaces make for a kitchen that shines not under LEDs, but candlelight and morning sun.

Every material in the home was chosen as if casting a character. Fluted woodwork. Plaster walls. Richly veined, leathered stone. “Each one has a tone, a voice, a purpose,” Amanda says. “Our material palette always starts tactile, not visual. How it feels is just as important as how it looks.”

One unexpected hero? The leathered stone counters in the kitchen and butler’s pantry—soft, matte, and quietly luxurious. They lend the space a grounded elegance that doesn’t scream for attention but anchors everything around it. “It gave the entire kitchen a grounded, almost earthy elegance,” Taylor notes. “One of those details people might not notice right away, but they feel it.”

“Everything we brought in had to earn its spot—not just look good, but feel right in the space,” Amanda explains. “A little breathing room makes even a humble object feel like it belongs in a gallery.”

The art and styling were approached with the same rigor as the structural work. Pieces from Olive Ateliers and a curated collection of fine art were introduced slowly, deliberately. “Everything we brought in had to earn its spot—not just look good, but feel right in the space,” Amanda explains. Negative space was a key player: “A little breathing room makes even a humble object feel like it belongs in a gallery.”

For readers working with high-impact architectural details, the takeaway is simple yet powerful: don’t overdecorate. Let walls stay quiet. Let light be part of the composition. Trust that what you don’t place matters just as much as what you do.

“The house had been through some phases,” Taylor admits. “We had to strip it down, rebuild thoughtfully, and gently reintroduce cohesion—kind of like rehabbing a really great band that had a weird experimental album in the middle.”

As with most character-rich homes, the greatest design challenge wasn’t what to build—it was what to undo. “The house had been through some phases,” Taylor admits. “We had to strip it down, rebuild thoughtfully, and gently reintroduce cohesion—kind of like rehabbing a really great band that had a weird experimental album in the middle.”

But it’s the small, nearly invisible moments that make this home sing. Custom wood casings echo the warmth of the ceiling beams. Power outlets were cut directly into stone for a seamless look. Extra storage was embedded in places most wouldn’t think to check. “Everything was designed to feel intentional, functional, and easy to live in—even if you don’t notice it all right away.”

For readers deep in their own renovation journey, Amanda and Taylor offer this advice: “Don’t erase the story—edit it. Respect the architecture, but don’t be afraid to add your own chapter.”

Luxury, they remind us, doesn’t need to shout. “Use real materials. Let imperfections show. Luxury can mean thoughtful, tactile, slow.”

In the end, this home is more than a transformation—it’s a reminder of what design can do when it’s both reverent and radical. A space that doesn’t just look good in photos, but feels good to live in. That’s the real glow-up.

Credits:

Interior design by House of Rolison | @houseofrolison

Photography by Nils Timm and Gavin Cater.