The entrance of a village house in Biot: first impression, materials and light

The floor: tomettes, terracotta and a runner

Hexagonal tomettes are the soul of the floors here. When they still exist under a more recent covering, we always advise bringing them back to the surface and feeding them with linseed oil rather than sealing them under varnish. They keep their faded rose, they take on a patina, they absorb footsteps.

When they are gone, an artisanal terracotta in an old format remains the truest answer. It ages well and it links the entrance to the other rooms without a break.

Over it, a runner in undyed wool or flat woven cotton, with an olive band or a single stripe, draws the eye towards the back of the house. We choose it long and narrow, set a few centimetres away from the skirting, never pushed against the wall.

The console, the mirror and the three objects that are enough

An entrance needs a surface to set things down and a place to look at yourself. That is all.

The console should be slim, in oak or aged elm, thirty to forty centimetres deep so it does not eat the passage. One drawer is enough. Models with a solid top are more restful than those with a low shelf, which invite mess.

The mirror is leaned rather than hung, when the height allows. An arched shape, a frame in pale wood or patinated plaster, a generous size. A large mirror in a small entrance always works better than a small one.

On the console, three objects. A hand thrown ceramic bowl for keys, a low vase with an olive branch or a few dried stems, a small lamp. We resist everything else. Entrances die of accumulation, never of restraint.

Quiet storage for an entrance that stays calm

The clutter of an entrance is always the same, shoes, bags, post. We handle it with three simple answers.

A large woven rush basket on the floor swallows beach bags and market baskets. A low bench in raw wood with a linen cushion gives you somewhere to sit while putting on shoes and hides a crate underneath. A row of turned wooden pegs, one single line, fixed high enough that coats do not brush against faces.

Where space allows, a shallow cupboard fronted with slatted doors painted in the wall colour disappears completely. A tidy entrance is not an entrance with a lot of storage. It is an entrance where every object has an obvious place.

The staircase, and what comes next

In most Biot village houses the stairs begin in the entrance. People treat this as a problem. We treat it as the best thing in the room.

A stone or tiled stair with a plain iron handrail carries the eye upwards and gives the small space a second dimension. We keep the first three steps completely clear, no basket, no plant, no shoes. That emptiness is what makes the stair read as architecture rather than as an obstacle.

The wall along the stair takes one thing at most. A single framed drawing hung low, at the height of someone climbing, or nothing at all. Rows of small pictures climbing at an angle make a narrow entrance feel busy and shorten it.

Under the stair, if there is a triangle of dead space, we close it with a shallow door in the wall colour or we leave it open and slide in a bench. Both work. What does not work is a shelf full of things you look at every time you come home.

Summer materials: linen, rush, raw wood, ceramic

Summer changes an entrance more than people expect. The bare floor becomes pleasant. Textiles lighten. We swap the thick winter rug for a flat weave, the wool cushion for washed linen, the lamp with a dark shade for one in paper or parchment.

Natural fibres do the rest. A rush basket, a straw hat on a peg, an olive wood tray. The ceramics of Biot, with their soft glazes and full forms, find their truest place here. One single piece, well chosen, tells you where the house comes from.

Smells matter too. A bunch of dried lavender, a beeswax candle, the courtyard door left ajar in the morning. These are details that never photograph well and yet they make all the difference when you come home.

How we work on an entrance

We always begin by emptying. The room bare, measured, photographed at three moments of the day. Then we watch where the light falls and we place the mirror. Then the console, then the floor, then the storage. Objects come last, often on the day of the installation itself, and often in smaller numbers than planned.

Emicasa Atelier is a decoration atelier. We choose materials, tones, furniture and objects, and we bring them together so the house looks like the people who live in it. A successful entrance does not draw attention. It simply makes you want to step inside.

If you are preparing a house in Biot or in the neighbouring villages, write to us. We are very fond of these first rooms that everyone forgets.