Downtown

Gabriella Khalil's Downtown

Published on August 15, 2024 9 minutes read

Words by Laura Regensdorf, Imagery by Zoe Potkin

"I’ve always loved neutrals. A friend said to me one time, ‘You’re a maximal minimalist,’ and that resonated with me."

Living so close to the store — the very idea of it calls to mind vintage New York. The Little Italy dressmaker whose family is nestled upstairs, the East Village antiquarian with a vertical commute. For creative director Gabriella Khalil, best known for bringing Palm Heights Grand Cayman to glamorous fruition, her apartment on Canal Street retains the spirit of that old-world arrangement. At street level on the block is Happier Grocery, the Soho emporium (part next-gen Dean & Deluca, part East Coast Erewhon) run by the hospitality group Happier, which counts Khalil as part of the team. Also under that organizational umbrella is the Bushwick restaurant Habibi, with a Middle Eastern concept she helped develop, and WSA, a sprawling multi-use creative space in lower Manhattan that is an evolving showcase of her 1970s-inflected aesthetic. All of this means that the nearby neighborhood grocer isn’t exactly a mom-and-pop shop. But as with all things in Khalil’s world, her relationship with the market is familial, charmingly so. One day this summer, she posted a photo on Instagram, showing her seven-year-old daughter, Grace, playing cashier.

“It’s weirdly quiet, even though it’s Canal,” Khalil says, standing in the airy, floor-through apartment she has called home since January, following a stint in nearby Tribeca. “I was very nervous.” Down below, cars and delivery trucks idle in the dense thoroughfare that slices across Manhattan; sidewalk traffic is sluggish with the day’s unseasonable heat. Inside, Khalil has created a retreat from all that, with stylistic touchstones familiar to those who know her spaces. The open kitchen pairs stainless steel cabinetry with slabs of brown travertine — a neutral stone that evokes the surfaces at Palm Heights, where even new details feel original to the resort’s 1970s bones. In the living area, a Memphis-era floor lamp by Mario Botta stands in one corner; oversize Lucite speakers anchor another. The low-slung seating zones practically invite a party that could unfurl until the grocery opens for coffee — though, to her regret, Khalil is not doing much entertaining at home these days. “I feel like, being in hospitality, you’re hosting all the time,” she explains, alluding to WSA’s full slate of programming, from a Met Gala after-party to dinner residencies with We Are Ona and Gjelina. “It’s just that it’s on a different type of scale.”

Khalil is seated at the kitchen island, wearing the day’s understated uniform: an off-the-shoulder black bodysuit and wide-leg Acne pants in dark petrol green. There is a flash of metal at the wrist, by way of a heavy Rolex that she got as a gift. (She’s more of an intuitive magpie than a watchhead: “I kind of want to be, in theory, but I’m not in real life.”) Despite having a travel schedule that ping-pongs her back and forth to Grand Cayman, Khalil is palpably grounded. She grew up in a Philadelphia suburb with her younger brother and mother, surrounded by the boisterous Italian side of the family. (Her dad's side is Filipino.) Khalil keeps various talismans from her upbringing close. Her grandmother’s rosary, which the creative director wore during childbirth with Grace, is kept in a bedside table. A pair of her mother’s 1980s hoop earrings — “I visualize her wearing them when she had big hair,” says Khalil — is on long-term loan. “All the wine corks,” she adds, gesturing to the living room bookcase, “those belonged to my grandfather. He had them on his sideboard.” She even lugged them to London years ago, where she got a masters in contemporary art at the Sotheby’s Institute of Art and worked her way through the gallery scene to an early career as an art advisor. The sentimental streak seems surprising for someone with a rigorously edited home, but it makes sense. What else is a vat of corks if not a tangible scrapbook of nights well spent? Khalil fishes to explain it: “You feel good juju to have these objects around from people that you love.”

When Palm Heights opened in 2019, Khalil brought along that dual interest in design and community — everything and everyone in conversation. “The idea of collaboration and working with people has always been there from day one,” she says. “It’s just an exchange of ideas: Let’s create something really beautiful and see what happens.” Over the years that philosophy has manifested as staff uniforms designed by Bode and Matteau, capsule collections with Tekla and Gohar World, residencies featuring a crew of like-minded chefs and wellness experts and floral artists. “It’s always ‘Palm Heights family’ — we even say that when we write notes to the guests,” Khalil says. “It’s like everyone is a part of this.” When the arrival of the pandemic prompted an extended closure of Grand Cayman’s borders, the definition of family expanded, as the resort welcomed in the surrounding community with a series of themed events. Khalil, inspired by her husband’s Egyptian background, threw the first Habibi dinners, laying vintage Moroccan carpets on the sand. Mambo Italiano, a Sunday red-sauce extravaganza, blossomed out of her own memories. Improvisation as an instigator of communion became part of the resort’s modus operandi.

“I really found my rhythm, more than ever, doing Palm Heights. Not just with design — even my own personal style,” says Khalil. She credits the “super expressive” people that floated into her orbit, including the Luar designer Raul Lopez, who stayed for months during lockdown. “When I first met him, I’d be like, ‘I don’t know if I should wear that,’” she recalls of her proprietor’s sense of reserve. His sassy retort — “Don’t be that girl!” — has become a running joke. Khalil’s wardrobe remains rooted in neutrals, with splashes of color to suit the island mood, though there is a new register of exuberance. Glittery two-piece crochet sets by Diotima are part of her regular rotation, along with gauzy tropical prints by Louisa Ballou. (Both lines are carried at the Palm Heights boutique, Dolores; the shop will add a capsule of vintage resort wear this fall.) “On a practical level,” she adds of her Caribbean-inflected sensibility, “I started really experimenting with jewelry because I was always hair back in a ponytail.” A pared-down look might call for a statement earring. The custom Carolina Bucci necklace she created fills that purpose too, with a collection of materials seemingly pulled from a Palm Heights design brief: tiger’s eye, snowflake obsidian, white agate like a tumbled shell found on the beach.

Gabriella's Downtown necklace features a Florentine Finish sphere in 18k white gold, enamel spheres in Camel, and semi-precious spheres in Tiger's Eye, Hematite, Snowflake Obsidian and White Agate.

“A friend said to me one time, ‘You’re a maximal minimalist,’ and that resonated with me,” Khalil says. “It’s very rare that you would go into a space [of mine] and there would be pattern on pattern on pattern. Vintage objects are my favorite thing.” The confidence that bloomed in recent years on the wardrobe front carries through to her instincts with interiors. Case in point: the 1969 Pedus bed by Frank Oelke, featuring comically large toes, that Khalil has placed by the escalator at WSA. “To me, it was such a funny thing, but nine years ago, would I have ever done that?” Khalil wonders aloud. “No. I’d be like, ‘Everyone’s going to think I’m crazy.’” It has become the project’s de facto mascot, as photogenic as a red phone booth in London.

Sometimes evolution involves risk. Other times it bends toward comfort. After giving a tour of her bedroom — a serene hideaway with a curvilinear bookcase and caramel wall-to-wall carpeting — Khalil points out a cozy chocolate brown nook off the hall. “I haven’t had a TV in a long time,” she explains, but it folds into her recent mission to find times to relax, whether on a paddleboard or sofa. “I’ve started doing this thing with Grace on Fridays. We got matching pajamas, and we started doing movie nights.” The mother and daughter have cycled through 1980s classics like Ghostbusters (Grace is “obsessed”); the pet canon too, including Benji and Homeward Bound and 101 Dalmatians with Glenn Close. “All of these little things that are core memories, I’ve been putting a focus on that,” says Khalil, an architect of experiences down to the most personal. “Because it’s important.”