You’d laugh if you knew how many often it works this way — we entertain a whole host of options before circling right back to where we began. Sometimes it’s less about indecision and more about making sure no better choice exists before committing. On Foxridge, this was the storyline as we were working through the exterior palette. As a design team we had fallen in love early on, but out of responsibility, we tested every possibility—renderings in bright white, classic red brick, dark and moody contrasts, taupe with stone. In the end, we kept returning to our first love: White Duck painted brick paired with Natural Tan semi-transparent stain on cedar siding. Elegant wood accents, copper details, and black metal gave it the balance we wanted. Soft white and taupe—you had us from the start.

Before we got into any particular materials, there was already a strong direction. We started attending meetings while the plan was still firming up, but the exterior form was well underway. Tony Frazier had imagined a European-inspired estate feel that suited the client’s aesthetic perfectly, with a form that tumbled in two directions—both sprawling left to right, but also toward the street. The pull forward was to make a motor court, porte cochere, and room for an extraordinary amount of vehicles. This supersized need for car storage, charmingly enough, resulted in a footprint that had some mystery and curiosity instead of a completely visible front elevation. I find it delightful when a house reveals itself slowly. I like it best when, to get a full understanding of the house, you’re wandering through an arch or pushing open a gate wondering, “What’s over here?” Where’s the fun in knowing everything from the street?

The iterations for materials were a bit of a journey, too. Before we knew the colors that would eventually land, the one thing we did know was that the European-inspired, English country silhouette would require materials that would age handsomely.

Our clients were on board with the vision of a cobblestone and pea gravel motor court (bordered by neatly clipped hedges, naturally) before they were sold on anything else. Molded stone arches and copper gutters and lanterns were also more or less a foregone conclusion. Real cedar siding with character and imperfect grace was always the hope over a man-made siding that would look suspiciously crisp. It was also clear that the landscaping and hardscaping would be an extension of the house—this wouldn’t be just a house with pretty plants settled politely around the edges of the place. A chalky green sports court out back by the pool made the casually elegant, European country-club aesthetic basically complete. This house is essentially a private country club with all the perks and none of the socializing. It’s a dream, really.

All these luxuriously tactile, living finishes will hold up their end of the bargain and greet you daily with their dreaminess. The tradeoff is that they require relaxed expectations—loose stone giving little hands a potential playground for pushing dump trucks, making piles and paths that might cause some parents to twitch. Copper gutters still bear the fingerprints of the hands that hung them in sweltering midsummer heat, but will, like everything else, soften and sigh with weathering. I love the way these materials feel so anti-modern. Relational. Not maintenance-free and not perfect forever. Contrary to what we might think, what we have to care for are the things we end up cherishing the most. Like children and lovers — good things flourish in direct proportion to the quality of the attention given.

Anyway. Back to our dates. We knew some things, and we didn’t know some things. We eventually had to clear the hurdles of making some real decisions on color. This was not easy, y’all.* We considered a dark, contrasty fellow with mocha-colored siding and natural brick. He was too brooding—he didn’t make us laugh, and we suspected he was irritatingly introspective. We tested out a white-on-white, bright-smile charmer that was like a pendulum swung too far in the other direction. He was fun at first, but then almost silly—that much brightness felt wrong on a silhouette this epic. No time for Peter Pan; we want seriousness enough to complement our own ambition, don’t we? There were also two mid-tone forgettable ones sandwiched between these more memorable options. Traditional brick felt sensible but didn’t make us feel anything. Great guy for someone else—we’re sure of it. Taupe & stone was laid back but sleepy, and we couldn’t really engage. You have to be able to have a conversation after all, and this option felt flat and lacked dimension. So back we came running to our handsome, strong, soft white and taupe—we always knew he was the one anyway.

*Our benevolent rendering saint from Tony’s team, Luke Mitello, was very patient with all of us. A talented emerging designer in his own right, he rendered so many options that even I started to doubt my career path entirely. This was a labor of love between Tony and Luke, with Erin and me popping in with our opinions when our clients asked.

That wasn’t the end of the story, of course. We tested at least six color combinations on not just one but multiple full-size sample walls—begrudgingly built by our reluctant hero at Loyd Builders, John Houston (we love you, John). When the group finally landed on the shades of white and taupe for the brick and cedar, just enough doubt crept into the client’s minds to trigger a repaint… to a very similar shade that happened to be one of the original favorites. The most important thing is that it looks beautiful, and it gave us a good story along the way.

In fairness, there were plenty of factors at play. The rough texture of brick and cedar can shift colors just enough, and a foreground of southern red clay plus the ever-changing light made things even trickier. In the end, everyone is thrilled with this hard-won pairing: the effortless canvas of soft white brick against the nonchalant, semi-transparent taupe of the cedar siding.

There are a few other favorite things about this exterior that shouldn’t escape mention (my metaphor is wearing thin, but perhaps these are groomsmen—or maybe wingmen?). The gorgeously tall, gridded steel front door lends a fresh air of modernity and lightness to the permanence and heaviness of the molded stone entry arch. It is the one element that sits both outside and in, linking the two together. I love that it stretches to the full height of the glossy, lacquered foyer ceiling just inside. I also love the handmade gates, drawn by Tony and built by our friends at Raleigh Reclaimed, that close off the motor court from the driveway, helping create the sense of layers and unfolding. Anywhere there is a gate, it creates the tension of a boundary of outside and inside, heightening the delicious curiosity about what we’re not allowed to see. There’s another really lovely gate moment—a diminutive version that bears the same curves as the driveway, off to the side of the house and leading to the back. The yard behind the house is a rare world unto itself and deserving of an entire post that I won’t have time nor inclination to write, because we had no hand in scheming it. Suffice it to say, there are many impressive amenities out there, but the moment that makes my knees go weak is the tree-lined pea gravel outdoor “room” with a firepit to give you a reason to linger in it, because that’s the kind of girl I am.

In the end, the exterior of Foxridge feels exactly like what it was always meant to be: timeless yet surprising, composed but playful, elegant but lived-in. It’s a house that doesn’t give away all its secrets at once, but rewards you the more time you spend with it. For me, that’s the highest mark of success—a home that invites you to keep wandering, and keep falling in love.