A PERFECT MATCH | Betty and François Catroux in the library of their Paris apartment. The painting above the sofa is by Emmanuel Gondouin from the 1930s.  Stepping into the Left Bank apartment of François and Betty Catroux, you would not think that this was the home of an older couple—but perhaps rather that of people in their twenties. But François and Betty Catroux are no ordinary couple, and they bring inimitable style and energy to any room they happen to occupy. Betty is known to the world as the former model who became the muse and confidant of Yves Saint Laurent (the late designer referred to her as his female twin), while her husband is one of the most respected decorators in the world, with a roster of clients that has included Rothschilds, Santo Domingos, Millers, the Shah of Iran and King Hussein of Jordan. Their social life (the two met at an art opening in Paris in 1967) has been just as glittering—fixtures in Parisian nightlife of the '70s, they hung out with Loulou de la Falaise, Brigitte Bardot and Serge Gainsbourg.  Should you wonder where François Catroux sits in the constellation of great designers, it would be right at the top, alongside David Hicks, the British talent who mixed modern and patrician style, and a bit left of the American designer Peter Marino, whose work is a singular combination of architecture, art and luxury. Catroux has designed projects in almost every style, from his beginnings, when he worked in a '60s Space Age groove, to the sleekness of the '70s, which he cleverly accented with French and Asian antiques, to the opulent but no less elegant robber baron mode of the '80s, where he tapped into the full-blown grandeur of 18th-century France. The Algerian-born designer is not as well recognized as he should be, primarily because he has spent less time than most top decorators celebrating these projects—there is not one book on his work, although there should be.  MASTER WORKS | A Vladimir Kagan sofa, a 1995 portrait of Betty Catroux by Philippe de Lustrac and a 'Big Easy' chair by Ron Arad provide a sinuous sense of drama to the living room.  For his newly redecorated Paris apartment, Catroux reached into the past and conjured the future all at once, employing some of the best tricks of his 40-year career. In the living room, he casually mixes styles and periods to create a sleek space layered with interesting objects. For furniture, he goes for sweeping, dramatic pieces—a 1950s velvet Vladimir Kagan serpentine sofa faces a voluptuous one by Jean Royère from the same period. A Ron Arad 1988 "Big Easy" chair, fashioned from bent steel, looks like an industrial sculpture among the other organic shapes. Across the room, Catroux has placed another work by Arad, a massive table of polished steel, but here the curvaceous shape mimics the lines of the sofas.  Scattered throughout, there are pieces Catroux has had for decades, such as the colossal African mask dominating the entry and the equally massive falcon sculpture on the Arad table. There's also a star mirror over the fireplace (one of a pair, the other hangs over the couple's bed) and an Atlas figure supporting an armillary sphere. Atlases are something of a talisman for Catroux; you see them sprinkled among his projects. "I like the idea of infinity and space they evoke for me, as well as their perfect shape," he explains.  Betty and François Catroux in their previous apartment on Quai de Béthune, in 1972.  One of the most charming and beautifully detailed spaces in the apartment is Betty's office. Catroux has outfitted the room with built-in cabinetry, which has been veneered in extremely rare palm wood, accented with red-lacquer drawer pulls. Lining the shelves are photographs of the family (Betty and François have two daughters). The effect is as though a cabinet by Pierre Chareau has grown up and covered the whole room, clearly a gift from husband to wife.  Catroux's eye for design seems to be innate. After a stint in the army (his grandfather was a French general) he traveled to the States to consult for Elle magazine. It was during this time that he socialized with a sophisticated crowd including Cole Porter, Pam Hayward and the decorator Billy Baldwin, who was the resident designer for people like Babe Paley and Diana Vreeland. He learned much in this atmosphere about taste at the top.  When he returned to Paris in 1967 and decorated his own apartment on the Quai de Béthune, Catroux created a sleek manifesto in black and white, complete with contemporary sculpture and undulating banquettes. Through a friend, fashion designer Mila Schön paid a visit and was impressed enough to commission Catroux to do her clothing boutique in Milan. For this, Catroux created a futuristic space worthy of Stanley Kubrick, featuring circular display islands and an amphitheater in the round for fashion shows. The store made the cover of L'Oeil, an influential art magazine at the time. Today Catroux credits this project with launching his career.  During this time, Catroux became to decoration what Vidal Sassoon was to hair: The Future Is Now. While most intergalactic design from this era has aged about as well as Nancy Sinatra's boots, Catroux's interiors from this period remain timeless because he knew how to temper the Space Age severity with softer curves, warmer colors and classic pieces of furniture in the mix. This would become his trademark—the combination of styles, periods and colors—to create the most refined and sophisticated environments, always original with a touch of the exotic.  The cabinetry in Betty's office evokes the art deco style of designer Pierre Chareau.  As much as the couple enjoys the glamour and chicness of their newly renovated apartment, they are perhaps happiest of all in Provence at the 16th-century farmhouse they bought in 1990. "I haven't been to a nightclub in 30 years," says Catroux, who is far more interested in his garden these days than nights on the town.  For his country retreat, he has turned the interiors of the stone house into a series of comfortable spaces centered around a long vaulted salon. The gardens are an array of enchanting outdoor rooms, which give way to views of the mountains of the Luberon Massif beyond. "You have to get here in July, when the lavender is blooming," says Catroux, with the pride of a gardener. The house is built around a courtyard, which is filled with topiaries and climbing plants—itself as much a proper and cozy room as an outdoor space.  The overwhelming impression given by the Provence house—all the more striking when you know Catroux's body of work—is its effortless informality. He is one of the great experts on furniture and decorative arts, but the pieces here are rather rustic. (Of course there is the odd sophisticated touch, such as the plaster consoles by the Cuban-born designer Emilio Terry that serve as bedside tables.) He is known for a very wide-ranging color palette, but these rooms—while containing bright textiles and objects—are really about the muted tones of stucco vaults and old beams. There are flourishes here and there: Catroux has pressed pebbles into a diamond pattern on the cement floor, suggesting a Beni Ourain tribal rug; a gigantic prism lantern offers a dose of drama in the entry hall; a Calder rug on the kitchen floor adds a touch of the exotic in an unexpectedly humble place.  A bronze monkey by François-Xavier Lalanne perched atop a stainless-steel cocktail table  Catroux seems to be just as comfortable decorating in this relaxed style as he does for the more high-wattage projects that he built his reputation on. Talking about other designers, Catroux is puzzled by some of his colleagues' need to keep it so formal. He sees it as a desire to bring back a style of living that is no longer really relevant today. "You know what I mean by L'Art de Vivre? The way of running a house by a hostess, with a chef, everything designed to be maximally elegant..." I ask when that style of living ended, thinking he might offer some general time frame, like "after the war." His response is as surprising as it is specific. "I can tell you exactly when it ended: 1975. The death of Babe Paley and the few of those ladies left who lived that way was right around that time. Life for people in that situation now, no matter how much money they may have, is about enjoying themselves. Some nice contemporary art, beautiful houses, but not something that has to be organized and run like a business. Not so much to manage."  When Catroux recently visited Beverly Hills to work on a project for his longtime client Diane von Furstenberg, I invited him to my house in bohemian Silver Lake for drinks. With a glass of wine in his hand, this nice French gentleman welcomed our dog in his lap and regaled us with colorful tales about high society, fashion and decorating. My daughters were in awe. Hors d'oeuvres turned into dinner. Catroux is certainly someone who can enjoy himself in any setting, however humble. L'Art de Vivre may have ended years ago, but somehow Catroux seems to understand how to bring it back at will.
The decorator François Catroux and his wife, Betty, have been at the forefront of French style for decades. With a boldly modern revamp of their city apartment and the idyllic evolution of their house in the country, Catroux shows he is still at the very top of his game.