This is a
NY Times article (Habitats Section) that ran about owners(and married couple) Roman Luba & Renata Bokalo last year.
See and hear an Audio Slide Show
ROMAN LUBA first saw Renata Bokalo at a Ukrainian summer camp in upstate New York. He was 8 years old. She was 4.
They live in a one-bedroom above their home-design store, Auto. LOVINGLY DECORATED A wall holds an assortment of artwork, some from their Ukrainian roots, next to a 1950s couch.
“My mother was the nurse,” said Ms. Bokalo, who is now 34, “and I hung around with her in the nurse’s office, so all the kids knew me.”
“I definitely remember her,” said Mr. Luba, 38.
Both are first-generation Ukrainian-Americans, and the freezer in their lovingly decorated one-bedroom rental in the West Village contains only ice, vodka and frozen pirogi made by Mr. Luba’s mother.
After meeting at summer camp, Mr. Luba, who grew up in Philadelphia, and Ms. Bokalo, who grew up in New Jersey, went their separate ways.
As adults they became reacquainted through mutual friends. And in 1996 Ms. Bokalo joined Mr. Luba in the sprawling apartment he rented in what used to be law offices on a then-desolate stretch of Court Street in downtown Brooklyn. She was an agent representing illustrators. He was a graphic artist. All their friends lived in Manhattan, and it was nearly impossible to entice them across the river for visits.
A lot of these friends were product designers, and in 1999 the couple decided to open a business selling the works of artisans they knew — a ceramicist, glass blower, pillow maker, textile designer and leather worker.
Their inexperience made them fearless. “We were young and wanted a change,” Ms. Bokalo said.
Mr. Luba said, “We were ready for any risk.”
They found a storefront in Manhattan on Washington Street, between Gansevoort and Horatio Streets. At the time, the nearby meatpacking district still dealt in meat — both bovine and human, in the form of sex clubs and prostitutes. They opened their store, called Auto, the same year that Pastis, the French bistro, and Jeffrey, the luxury-goods store, opened nearby. They had no idea they were pioneers in what would soon become a hot destination.
“We commuted in from the suburbs, meaning Brooklyn, everyday, and somehow everything worked out,” Ms. Bokalo said.
A very noisy family lived above the store. “From below it sounded like they were bowling,” Ms. Bokalo said.
When the family moved out, Ms. Bokalo and Mr. Luba rented the apartment to use as an office. By September 2001, they had ripped out part of the kitchen and were preparing to install office-type fixtures when they took a trip to Paris. Mr. Luba had an engagement ring in his pocket that he planned to spring on Ms. Bokalo. Then, of course, came the terrible news that the Twin Towers had been destroyed.
They returned to a neighborhood that was cut off from the world by barricades. Their business sank, and they had to lay off the entire staff of two. It took six weeks for Mr. Luba to actually bring out the ring and propose.
They decided to consolidate, and in October, they moved into the apartment originally intended as an office.
Because they were saving for their wedding, which they planned to hold at the summer camp where they first met, they didn’t fix up the place before moving in. “We moved before painting or doing any other work,” Ms. Bokalo said.
The next spring, they were married at the camp. Guests danced to live polka music, ate Ukrainian treats, gathered around a bonfire and fell asleep in tents.
Over time the couple’s business, like the city, thrived again, and they turned their new apartment into a striking home. The walls are now a deep gray that seems ominous on a rainy day as wind whips through the potato vines and oxalis that Ms. Bokalo tends in planters outside their second-story windows. Their nine-month-old wire-haired vizsla, named Edie, lies on a stylish dog bed designed by Utility Canvas — from the store, of course.
The functional kitchen has cheap white cabinets and restaurant-supply-store stainless steel shelves with a butcher-block counter, and a Rancilio espresso machine that Ms. Bokalo chose after doing a lot of research on how to get the best demitasse.
The couple cook a lot, or, rather, he cooks and she cleans. She also shops, preferring the Abingdon Square and Union Square farmer’s markets to the gourmet stores in the area. When they run out of her mother-in-law’s pirogi, they pick some up at Café Glechik in Brighton Beach, Brooklyn.
“We are very particular about our food,” Ms. Bokalo said. “We buy fish when we are going to serve fish — we shop as we need it.”
At one recent Ukrainian Easter celebration they served stewed kielbasa, ham, sausage, eggs, cured meats and other delights. “Pretty much everything but vegetables,” Mr. Luba said.
Sometimes they have friends over for dinner at their round white dining room table, which is lighted by a David Weeks sconce. Unstained Billy-brand shelves stacked against the living room wall do nothing to betray their Ikea roots, suggesting instead a more expensive store.
“I think that filling the shelves is the secret to that,” Mr. Luba said.
Another wall holds artwork, ranging from an oil portrait of a rooster that Mr. Luba had on the wall when he was a child to works by modern Ukrainian artists to a severe portrait of Mr. Luba’s father in the corner, next to a 1950s couch from Ms. Bokalo’s aunt.
Personal mementos, like the couple’s wedding invitation, in Ukrainian and English, have also been worked into the mix. Pillows designed by Judy Ross, bedding by John Robshaw, and flatware by John Pomp, all of which they sell downstairs in Auto, fill out the room. In the bedroom, three oil paintings of Ukrainian women by Ms. Bokalo’s grandmother rise up the wall in a line.
In 2005, they expanded their empire by renting the storefront next door, and the two Auto stores are now linked by the garden, which is not directly accessible from their apartment.
On a peaceful night they’ll open one of the security grates and return to the garden table, which Mr. Luba pieced together from an old Knoll base, and nice planks. They speak in Ukrainian as they enjoy the night sounds.
It’s the camp upstate, downtown.
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