A Masterclass in Restraint: How Sugarhouse Transformed a Brooklyn Heights Showhouse

When designers Jess and Jonathan Nahon of the firm Sugarhouse first stepped into the 1850s Greek Revival townhouse selected for the 2026 Brooklyn Heights Designer Showhouse, they were immediately drawn to the rear of the parlor floor. It was a space that felt neglected, lacking the architectural grandeur one might expect from such a storied residence. The kitchen, while functional, lacked a soul, and the adjoining dining area felt more like a drafty corridor than a place for gathering. For the Nahons, the mission was clear: they felt a professional responsibility to breathe life into the back of the house, transforming it into a space that felt both historically grounded and invigorated for modern life.

However, the project came with a unique set of constraints that set it apart from typical high-budget renovations. Because the homeowner had only recently completed a comprehensive renovation of the property, she remained the final arbiter of any permanent alterations. This meant the designers were prohibited from executing a total gut renovation. Instead, they were faced with a rigorous 15-day window to pitch their vision for structural interventions—such as new walls and kitchen modifications—before a condensed 25-day construction timeline began. This "look but don’t touch" challenge, rather than stifling their creativity, became the catalyst for one of their most impressive design achievements. By choosing to wrap, disguise, layer, and edit existing elements rather than demolishing them, the team successfully blurred the lines between the home’s original history and their contemporary design additions.

Reframing the Ceiling and Defining the Architecture

One of the most immediate challenges the designers faced was the inconsistent ceiling height in the dining room. A prominent soffit, designed to hide essential mechanical systems, had created a fragmented overhead plane, with three different heights competing for attention. Rather than attempting the impossible task of hiding the soffit entirely, the Sugarhouse team decided to lean into the architecture. They employed a large-scale, bold wallpaper from House of Hackney, which serves to draw the eye upward and across the room, effectively causing the awkward ceiling transitions to fade into a cohesive, patterned background.

To further unify the space, the designers introduced faux beams that span the various heights, visually connecting the disparate sections and making the soffit feel like a deliberate, structural choice rather than an afterthought. This approach extended to the lower portions of the room as well. Recognizing that the ceiling was already quite low, the team opted for wainscoting that maintained a shorter profile, ensuring the room didn’t feel cramped. In a bold departure from the standard matte finishes often found in such spaces, they opted for a high-gloss finish in Farrow & Ball’s "Deep Reddish Brown." The reflective quality of the gloss effectively kicks light around the room, ensuring that the dark, moody color palette feels sophisticated and atmospheric rather than cave-like.

Establishing Boundaries in a Pass-Through Space

Before the aesthetic layering could take hold, the designers had to solve a fundamental layout issue: the dining room lacked a distinct identity. Situated directly on the traffic path between the main house, the kitchen, and the central staircase, the room suffered from an identity crisis, functioning essentially as an oversized hallway. Jess Nahon noted that the space had no natural stopping point for the eye or for furniture, which prevented it from feeling like a proper dining destination.

The solution was to introduce a partial wall featuring a wide, graceful arched opening. This intervention successfully separates the dining area from the kitchen without completely walling it off, preserving the open flow of the home while providing the necessary structure to anchor the room. By creating this boundary, the designers gave their wallpaper and wainscoting a logical endpoint, and perhaps more importantly, provided a "landing zone" for furniture. This choice was emblematic of the Sugarhouse philosophy for this project: every move was intended to make the room feel as though it had always existed in this form, rather than being a temporary showhouse installation.

The Art of the Edit: Reworking the Kitchen

The kitchen presented a different set of hurdles. It was well-equipped with cabinetry, but it lacked a social center. The original island was a storage-heavy monolith that discouraged congregation, effectively freezing people out of the culinary workspace. Rather than replanning the entire footprint, the Sugarhouse team focused on surgical edits. Their millworker wrapped the existing island base in new wood, added legs for a lighter appearance, and incorporated a new countertop. They also opened one side of the island to accommodate stools, immediately transforming a purely utilitarian storage unit into a social hub.

The designers took a similar approach to the rest of the kitchen’s cabinetry. To create a cleaner, more unified aesthetic, they replaced the existing pantry doors with simplified, refined fronts. The upper cabinets were removed entirely to make way for an arched range alcove, a design detail that lends a sense of custom craftsmanship to the wall. When faced with a stainless steel refrigerator that could not be replaced, the team turned to a clever, unconventional solution: a color-matched, printed vinyl wrap. Described by Jess Nahon as "a giant sticker," the wrap allowed the appliance to blend seamlessly into the cabinetry, proving that a high-end look does not always require an expensive, invasive replacement.

Letting Materiality Dictate the Palette

The kitchen’s material palette was anchored by a shift in stone. The original gray marble countertops were replaced with Artistic Tile’s "Melange," a stone characterized by its warm, animated veining, including subtle pinks, creams, and earthy greens. This choice provided a vibrant backdrop for the rest of the room’s color scheme: Farrow & Ball’s "Black Blue" on the cabinetry, "Dead Salmon" on the island, and a rich, textured lime plaster on the walls from JH Wall Paints.

Rather than opting for a neutral backsplash that might have dulled the room’s energy, the designers commissioned a custom, dimensional botanical tile from Riwal Manufaktura. The decision to embrace such a theatrical element was born of necessity; the personality of the marble was so strong that the backsplash needed to be equally bold to hold its own. This commitment to texture and color illustrates the team’s willingness to balance high-drama elements with the existing bones of the house.

Sustaining History Through Evolution

The existing range hood, another permanent fixture, was transformed through a process of concealment and refinishing. By boxing in the original structure and applying a Midas Metall coating—a powdered-metal application that is sanded and polished to mimic solid metal—the team created a custom-looking feature that feels entirely bespoke. The addition of small squares along the lower edge of the hood further sold the illusion, turning an standard insert into an architectural focal point.

Even the flooring, which the designers had initially hoped to replace, ultimately became a part of the success story. When the homeowner rejected the idea of installing new floors, the team had to find a way to work with what was already there. As it turned out, the introduction of a chartreuse-green rug from Nordic Knots, combined with the new, warmer lighting and darker wall colors, completely changed the character of the wood. The floors no longer looked tired; they looked aged and authentic.

The project concludes as a meditation on the beauty of the "accidental" design. The kitchen is a mix of unlacquered brass plumbing, vintage lighting with decades of patina, and the custom metal finish on the hood. Rather than forcing a singular, polished aesthetic, the designers leaned into the variety of finishes. As Jess Nahon observed, the fear that everything must match is a common pitfall in residential design. By choosing materials that are destined to darken and patina over time, the Sugarhouse team ensured that the space would continue to evolve long after the showhouse closed its doors. The result is a room that feels not merely assembled, but genuinely accumulated over time—a testament to the power of thoughtful, restrained intervention.