Rich People Problems-Kwan 2017 (WWT)

typical Peranakan front room was the ancestral shrine, and Astrid had honored the
tradition by installing an elaborate Victorian altarpiece against the back wall. But instead
of placing pictures of dead relatives or porcelain gods within the altar, she had cheekily
hung a small Egon Schiele drawing of a nude male figure inside.
Ludivine led Nick from the front foyer through a darkened antechamber into the
chimchay—the open courtyard exposed to the sky that provided the natural ventilation
and lighting essential to these long, narrow shop houses. Here, Astrid had departed from
tradition and completely transformed the space: The roof had been glassed in and the
entire space air-conditioned, while the usual concrete floor was now covered in obsidian
black tiles, making it shimmer like a pool of black ink.
But the pièce de résistance was the east wall of the courtyard, where Astrid had worked
with the pioneering French landscape architect Patrick Blanc to install a vertical garden
that soared three stories high. Creepers, ferns, and other exotic palms seemed to grow out
of the wall, defying gravity. Against this dramatic fresco of flora was a sleek arrangement
of sculpted bronze divans covered in soft pillows of blindingly white linen. There was a
verdant, monastic stillness to the space, and in the midst of it all, Astrid perched crosslegged
on a divan, nestling a cup of tea on her lap, Zenly attired in a black tank top and a
voluminous black skirt. *3
Astrid stood up and gave Nick a tight hug. “I’ve missed you!”
“Same here! So this is where you’ve been slumming it.”
“Yeah, you like it?”
“It’s incredible! I remember coming here as a kid for one of your great-aunt’s nyonya
feasts—I can’t believe what you’ve done with it!”
“I moved in here thinking it would just be temporary, but I ended up falling in love with
the place so I figured I’d do some work on it. I can feel my great-aunt all around me here.”
Astrid gestured for Nick to take a seat next to her on the divan, and she began to pour him
some tea out of a cast-iron teapot. “This is a Nilgiri from the Dunsandle Tea Estate in
South India…I hope you like it.”
Nick took a sip of the tea, savoring its delicate smokiness. “Hmmm…fantastic.” He
gazed in wonder at the ocular-patterned skylight far above. “You’ve really outdone
yourself with this space!”
“Thanks, but I can’t take any credit for it—Studio KO, this amazing Parisian duo,
designed everything.”
“Well, I’m sure you inspired them much more than you let on. I don’t think I’ve ever
been in a house quite like this—it feels like Marrakech two hundred years from now.”
Astrid smiled and gave a little sigh. “I wish I could be in Marrakech two hundred years
from now.”
“Yeah? I get the feeling it hasn’t been all that great a morning. What’s this latest gossip
I hear?” Nick asked, sinking down into the plush sofa.
“Oh, you haven’t seen it?”
Nick shook his head.