"Have you just returned from Paris?" one person asks another as a dozen of us stand in a tiny but exquisite tromp L’Oreal foyer waiting for the doors to open. It's the last day of the Kips Bay Boys and Girls Club 28th Annual Decorator Show house, and it's raining. A guide passes out baggies, complements of Bloomingdale's, for our wet umbrellas, and I'm impressed at the assortment of sizes, including extra long for even the grandest of brollies. The floral arrangements outside the door bounce with falling drops, their ribbons suspiciously unspoiled. Next to me, a mannequin-perfect man whispers to his friend, "they had me staying at the most dreadful place, I had to switch to the St. Regis immediately." I imagine him throwing a fit over poorly folded towels.

For a self-confessed furniture diva, touring the renowned Kips Bay Showhouse is a dream come true, with room after room of design inspiration and a sense of being among those truly in the know. There's no way to give a full description of the May 2000 showhouse, but here are a few highlights to give you a sense of the visual treats.

The house was built in 1895 on the corner of 5th Avenue and 94th Street. In 1925, it was purchased and renovated by the architect who designed New York's Woolworth Building, once the world's tallest skyscraper. In 1943, the mansion was remodeled into apartments but, thanks to the Showhouse, this grand old building has been returned to townhouse status.

The tour began with the kitchen, the only room on the ground floor. Designed by Beverly Ellsley Design, it featured the firm's exquisite, trademark cabinetry. The room drew smiles and nods as guests hunted for the dishwasher and fridge hidden behind cabinet facades, before moving upstairs to the more formal rooms. Each stairwell brought a new mural, trompe l'oeil treatment or faux finish, and the variety of designs helped the eye transition from room to room. In the oval sitting room on the second floor, designer Mario Buatta proved the back-to-back sofa arrangement has returned. It was rumored that Buatta's furniture arrived at the 11th hour, but the room revealed no indication of any earlier moments of drama. Not a single tassel was out of place, although there was a startling lack of Buatta's trademark chintz.

On the third floor, designer Roderick Shade carved a handsome guest suite from a tiny space that most would have used for storage, bringing hope to city apartment dwellers like myself. "I used contemporary forms and then executed them in natural materials to take the edge off," said Shade of his taupe and white room, punctuated with African Art for a sophisticated feel. Metallic accents provided light where there was none, and the furniture, also designed by Shade, was strong and large-scaled.

   

The fourth floor nursery cleverly displayed how a long narrow tube with a door on each end could be the ideal setup for newborn twins. Penny Drue Baird of Dessins LLC divided the space in two, a blue side and a pink side, and tied the whole thing together with a latticework ceiling to make hanging canopies and mobiles a breeze. Even the drapery tiebacks bejeweled with tiny stuffed bears seemed to whisper "bebe."

Across the hall from this scene of domesticity, a bachelor's room suggested an evening of glamour and romance. Designers DeBare Saunders and Ronald Mayne of Stingray Hornsby LLC, included a window treatment resembling an Armani slip dress (suspended on a swing arm rod to let in an air of anticipation) and Gucci shoes lined up on a faux bamboo table. The room's off-center shape was disguised by carpet cut in diagonal contrasting stripes and neutral horizontal bands on the wall.

A quiet and serene third floor reading room was a highlight. "The room is representative of my signature style," said interior designer Charles Spada of Boston. "When I saw this long hall leading to a funny little room in the back of the house, I decided to create a private retreat. Its location makes it the perfect inner sanctum."

Visitors agreed. Words like "clean," "peaceful" and "bright," were heard again and again as people emerged from the long, straight hall into this crisp gem. The room didn't start out peaceful and bright, however. "Six inches of black padding completely covered the walls," recalled Spada. "There were no visible windows and discovering the fireplace was a complete surprise." The homeowners had made the room into a wine cellar divided into three spaces. Originally, they didn't want to change the room for the showhouse, so Spada lost two weeks of valuable work time while they decided whether to let the room go.

The end result was worth the hassles. Spada fabricated all the room's furniture, including a Parsons writing table, a model of utilitarianism and simplicity set off by a wall-hung TV/computer monitor. Despite its white and beige color scheme, the room is incredibly cozy thanks to two chaise-like club chairs, ottomans and other comfortable furniture. For a little dynamic tension, Spada placed two large, mid-19th century cast-iron dogs on either side of the fireplace. Their rough texture contrasts handsomely with soft cotton draperies and polished chintz pillows, and their weight and alert poses help anchor the room.

"It's an American room, not meant to be European or trendy," said Spada. "I'd originally planned to use an antique oval table in the space but then decided against it because it felt too heavy for the room. I wanted to keep everything light and airy because of the room's location in the back of the house." The space may have begun as a challenge, but, as he noted, the finished product has elicited the best response Spada has ever received from participating in a designer showhouse.