When Arlene Gibbs learned that her landlord had decided to sell the apartment in Rome she’d rented for nine years, her first thought was, “Well, I guess I’m going to be looking for an apartment in Milan.”
Milan had long felt like where she was headed. An interior decorator and a screenwriter, Gibbs found herself returning countless times over the years, whether for Salone del Mobile, work—or just because. Since she had to move somewhere, she figured she might as well make the change a big one.
Four apartments into her search, she visited a top-floor flat in a Liberty-style building in east Milan. Most people might have found the apartment unappealing, with its bright white walls, and furniture that made the space feel tight. But she had a good feeling about it—so much so that she canceled her next appointment. “As a decorator,” she says, “I can walk into a space and see the potential of the really great ones.”
A few details caught her eye: French doors with interior shutters, a separate kitchen, and the overall character of the building itself. But it was the light that really enchanted her, pouring through the windows, even on a gray winter day. She made an offer, requesting that the owner remove the furniture, and he eventually agreed.
Her transformation began with color. Gibbs coated the walls in blue and pink shades by Farrow & Ball. As she settled in, she surrounded herself with cherished belongings that traveled with her from one home to the next–most of which speak to her fondness for physical media. Among her vinyl records is Lookin’ Through the Windows by the Jackson 5, a childhood gift from her parents and the first album she ever owned. She brought it with her to college, then to New York City, Washington, D.C., Los Angeles, Rome, and now Milan.
Hundreds of DVDs reflect her love of film and her Hollywood career. Classics such as "Goodfellas" sit alongside numerous romantic comedies, the genre she writes, like "Four Weddings and a Funeral" and "The Best Man." There are also "West Side Story" (both the original and more recent 2021 adaptation) and Italian masterpieces such as "L’Avventura "and 8½. Tucked among them are two films she worked on: "Jumping the Broom" and "American Gun."
Books comprised the bulk of her moving boxes. Lining the entryway and part of a living room wall, Gibbs’ library charts the various chapters of her life and career: memoirs by Robert Evans and Anthony Bourdain join works by James Baldwin, Toni Morrison, and Joan Didion. Hardcover versions of "Sex and the City" and "Waiting to Exhale" mingle with political titles, a reminder from her D.C. years; design books; and a copy of Luigi Barzini’s "The Italians"–essential reading for Italy transplants. A green-and-white “GIBBS RD” street sign, a gift from a college acquaintance, stretches across the spines of books that fill one shelf.
Set alongside the bookshelves in the ingresso (the entrance area) is a table, where she often works, though she sometimes prefers the desk in her bedroom. There, a rolling rack hung with brightly colored garments stands next to her wardrobe–a temporary solution she decided to make permanent.
"The only color I don't have much of is black," she says of her clothing with a laugh. "When I lived in New York, I wore only black, gray, and navy."
Moving to Los Angeles and later spending more time in the Caribbean softened her palette. Today, blues dominate, punctuated by pinks, greens, and yellows.
Also on a shelf in her bedroom is one of her most treasured possessions: a necklace that belonged to her late mother. After her passing, Gibbs, her sister and sister-in-law sorted through her jewelry to select which pieces they wanted to keep. Though she doesn’t usually wear necklaces, Gibbs was drawn to this one. “I like the colors, and it reminds me of her,” she says. And it’s vintage. She had it for many, many years.”
The apartment has become a source of inspiration for her—as Milan has too, from the architecture to the neighborhoods to her everyday rituals. Above all, though, it’s the light that continues to captivate her. It recalls her late parents’ Caribbean home, where morning sun poured over the hills before flooding the house. It flows similarly in her apartment, with eastern light spilling in during the morning.
"When things are chaotic, and you're not happy in your space, it's hard to work," she says. "Here, I feel comfortable. I feel safe."
The apartment already feels like home, though it’s still a work in progress. A longer credenza is on its way. Artwork still waits to be hung. A carpenter will eventually build shelving above the washing machine. But she’s in no hurry.
"I always tell clients to take their time," she says. "Live in the space first, and see what you need."
