Patricia Voto’s Upper East Side Showroom Feels Like a Dream Apartment—Because It Is

“I always wanted it to feel like you were coming into someone’s home,” Patricia Voto says of her Upper East Side showroom, One/Of, where she designs her custom and made-to-order pieces that are steeped in a tailored romance. “Like, you’re hanging out with your best friend, trying on clothes—not something intimidating.” Stepping into her showroom on East 70th Street just off Madison Avenue, it does, in fact, feel that way—largely because it is someone’s home. For the past five years, Voto has been working and living in the same sunlit apartment, welcoming women in for fittings in a space that has now been fully reimagined by interior designer Britt Zunino.

Voto’s world is built on fabric. At One/Of, dresses begin not on a sketchpad but in the hand: bolts of Italian brocade, unexpected jacquards, painterly florals—materials she spent years working with behind the scenes at brands like Altuzarra and Rosie Assoulin—many sourced as extra yardage or deadstock from the same mills that supply houses like Oscar de la Renta, Marc Jacobs, and Prada. It’s a philosophy as much as a process—rescuing what already exists and reconfiguring it into something singular, the very idea behind the name One/Of: each piece one of a kind. The women who come here aren’t browsing racks; they’re building something with intention, drawn as much to the individuality as to the idea of avoiding excess. A dress takes shape slowly—through fittings, adjustments, conversation—its proportions shifting, its personality emerging. Unlike a traditional showroom, the process requires clients to come to her, to sit with her, to engage in that back-and-forth—making the space itself not just a backdrop, but an essential part of the experience.

After five years in the space, Voto was ready to refine it, enlisting Zunino, a founding partner of Studio DB. “I was like, Britt, I need to do something in here. We’ve been here for five years now and I’m bored,” Voto says, laughing. Zunino came to the project with an unusual advantage: she had first encountered Voto as a client, commissioning a dress and moving through the full One/Of process before being pulled into the space itself. The shorthand was immediate. “We both share this love of color and texture and pattern—and mixing things,” Voto says, while Zunino’s instinct was to push that even further. “The more unusual the combination, the better.”

You feel that instinct as soon as you step inside. The entry vestibule is wrapped in a geometric brocade—dense, graphic, and slightly moody, with a Prada-like whimsy. It functions as both curtain and camouflage, concealing a cluster of doors that lead to the apartment’s private spaces. A small chinoiserie-style gold fixture glints overhead, while a vintage cabinet anchors the corner; often, Rico, Voto’s husky rescue, is sprawled nearby. “We had a lot going on architecturally,” Zunino says. “So this was a way to conceal and create a reveal.”

Beyond it, the main room opens up and softens. The walls are painted a powdery blush—Benjamin Moore’s Misty Blush—tempered by a slightly deeper pink molding that frames the room without announcing itself. The color reads less as pink than as atmosphere, warming the light and casting everything in a flattering glow. Overhead, the ceiling shimmers with Calico Supernova, a wallpaper designed by Studio DB in collaboration with Calico, its gilded surface scattered with starburst motifs and intricate stitched detailing inspired by embroidery and jewelry. “You walk in and see the gold first,” Voto says, “and then you start to notice everything happening on top of it.”

Underfoot, a plush, golden-toned rug softens the entire room; the furniture sits low and inviting—more living room than showroom. A marble table anchors the center, ringed with chairs where fittings unfold, and the surfaces are layered with objects that feel collected rather than placed: a tulipiere, shell candlesticks by Sylvie MacMillan, a sculptural brown vase by Sophia Lou Jacobsen, and lacquered Chinese side tables sourced from IME Vintage flanking the mantel.

Along one wall, swatches of fabric hang in dense, vertical layers—florals brushing against checks, brocades against stripes—forming a kind of working tapestry. It’s one of the few elements that predates the redesign, and one that Zunino was keen on keeping. “I remember it from the first time I visited,” she says—drawn to the way it invites clients to choose a fabric and build something entirely one of a kind. Across from it, the fitting area disappears behind Schumacher curtains patterned with soft florals and a geometric trim. To highlight the gilt ceiling, Zunino added lighting throughout, sourcing vintage fixtures with rechargeable bulbs in lieu of rewiring, their soft uplight warming the room.

In the bathroom, the apartment gives way to something more exuberant, where Mitchell Moon’s hand-painted mural unfurls across the walls and climbs toward the ceiling in looping, almost hallucinatory forms. The composition grew organically, expanding with each visit from the artist. “Every time he came back, he was like, ‘Should I do this wall? Should I do the ceiling?’” Voto recalls. “And it just kept growing.”

Only the bedroom pulls back. Painted in a muted, mossy green with softly detailed millwork, it feels quieter, more contained. Quilted bedding from Studio Ford layers the bed; a Sixpenny sofa and Tennant New York lamps bring a lived-in ease.. For years, it was the one room left unfinished. “It was where we kind of hid out,” Voto says. “All the magic was happening out here.” Finishing it became, in part, about turning that attention inward.

Living in the space requires a quiet choreography. Each morning, before clients arrive, the apartment is reset—floors vacuumed, curtains straightened, candles lit—so that by the time someone walks in, everything feels effortless. Most clients never question it. “People always ask, ‘Do you live in the area?’” Voto says, laughing. “And I’m like, um… yeah. In the area.”

After five years—and now, finally, a refresh—the apartment feels fully resolved. Not just a showroom, and not quite a home, but something more compelling in between: a place where the clothes are conceived, tried on, and lived with all at once.