From a distance, Visan, France, resembles a Provençal village like any other, charming but unassuming: a crop of pale stone buildings on a hilltop surrounded by vineyards. During the medieval period, however, the region was the seat of powerful dignitaries, including the Dauphin of Viennois, a count whose family owned the village’s now-ruined castle. In 1349, Humbert II — the last dauphin before the title was transferred to the French crown — burdened with debt and without a male heir, ceded his remaining land to the king. Five years earlier, in a similar exchange with the pope, who then led the Catholic church from the nearby city of Avignon, he had offered up Visan. The village became part of the papacy’s wealthy enclave, remaining so until the French Revolution; its historic center is still lined with the commanding houses built for nobles and members of the papal court.
The most stately of these is a five-story, 17th-century mansion overlooking the town’s central fountain. Arranged in a U shape around a small internal courtyard shaded by cypress and lime trees, it has an elegant stone facade with rows of arched windows reaching up toward a thick terra-cotta tile roof. Since 2020, it has been a retreat for a transplant of a different kind: the Australian actress Melissa George, 48, who moved to Paris from New York with her sons Raphael, now 10, and Solal, 8, in 2016. Working with the Peruvian-born, Paris-based interior architect Diego Delgado-Elias, 44, she has restored the building’s splendor, transforming the 6,500-square-foot residence into an elegant but comfortable eight-bedroom home perfectly suited to someone who, as she does, lives to entertain.
Everyone talked about ‘the actress’ in the village,” George says of the initial interest in her and her plans for the house. She was widely assumed to be American, in part because of her roles in such U.S. television dramas as “In Treatment” and “Grey’s Anatomy.” But many of her neighbors have since become her friends: In the summer, the village children often cool off in her pool and, most nights, there are wine tastings in someone’s cellar. “We have a little club called Les Perchés, which means ‘the eccentrics,’” she says.
The locals’ early curiosity wasn’t surprising. The building is well known in town, not least because it’s unusually well preserved: The doorways are topped with late 17th-century framed frescoes depicting bucolic scenes, and several Louis XIV chandeliers hang from the 12-foot-high ceilings of the salons on the second floor. There are relics of life downstairs, too, including a lavoir — a trough-shaped Provençal masonry structure that was designed for washing laundry — which sits in the vast stone-paved kitchen on the ground floor.
George has been a devoted custodian. She chose Delgado-Elias, who renovated her previous Paris apartment on Place des Victoires, for his ability to sensitively fuse the character of a site with that of its owner. “I have very real respect for the house’s existing bones, for the intention and history reflected in the patina,” says Delgado-Elias. “This project was like a conversation between the three of us.” The result is something distinct: a mix of the home’s historic grandeur and an indisputably feminine, cinematic glamour. “This is a woman’s home. I wanted everything to be romantic and seductive,” says George. “If a man walks in, I want him to feel like a guest.”
She and Delgado-Elias chose a sensual, luminous color palette for the house that would complement its murals and the original terra-cotta tiles that still cover most of the floors. The south-facing library on the second floor is painted a dusky pink and contains a dramatic bookshelf-lined daybed, designed by Delgado-Elias and upholstered in burnt sienna velvet, that can be closed off for naps with a pair of matching velvet curtains. “We would joke that this room looks like where Mariah Carey would write her memoirs,” Delgado-Elias says. The adjoining living room is almost entirely yellow, with velvet curtains and roll-arm sofas all in the same sun-drenched hue as the walls and ceiling. “I like the cocooning effect of painting a room one color,” says Delgado-Elias. “It bothers me when the ceiling is white.” Next door, the dining room is more somber, with an imposing stone hearth and Louis XV bronze chandeliers.
Across the landing, George’s modestly sized primary bedroom is painted a delicate shade of grayish pink by Farrow & Ball called Peignoir, a name that captures the mood of the room, conjuring images of boudoirs and the smell of scented talc. Crisp white lace textiles cover the bedside tables, and the vintage cane bed is framed by a shallow alcove hung with a pair of Rococo tapestries sourced from the Paris antiques market Paul Bert Serpette. A 1970s rattan-and-brass crib by the Italian designer Gabriella Crespi sits beside one of the windows. George gave birth to her third son, Lyor, in March but had found the piece long before. “Diego used to call it the ‘creepy crib.’ I’d say, ‘It’s not creepy, it’s Crespi,’” says George. “And there are only two in the world.”
“I’m not a minimalist, but I am compared to her,” says Delgado-Elias. “The home is much more florid and feminine than something I’d create for another client. Melissa is someone who fills the room. She knows what she wants.” Accordingly, furnishing the house was a joint pursuit akin to a treasure hunt. The pair sourced pieces from flea markets in nearby Carpentras and Avignon, and from dealers in the legendary antiques town of L’Isle-sur-la-Sorgue. The guest rooms, mostly on the upper floors, are filled with their discoveries, including baroque sconces and hand-painted Italian twin beds. But the actress’s online searches were sometimes the most fruitful. “I am the Leboncoin Queen,” George says, referring to the French equivalent of Craigslist. Her triumph was an intact Art Deco bathroom with floor-to-ceiling oak paneling and a matching wood-clad bathtub, bidet and massage table, saved from a demolition site on the Côte d’Azur. With great difficulty, Delgado-Elias reassembled it for the en suite bathroom of George’s bedroom, trimming it slightly to fit. “It was like putting together a puzzle,” he says, explaining that his only guide was a video of the demolition crew taking the room apart.
Equally challenging to install was a well-worn rose pink marble sink that George purchased from a farm in Bordeaux. “It was so small. I didn’t think it would weigh over 1,000 pounds,” she says with a laugh. The piece had to be hoisted through the front gate by crane, and through a side window via a makeshift pulley system. “I thought she was crazy but, when it arrived, I said, ‘You’re a genius,’” says Delgado-Elias, who fitted out the otherwise muted kitchen with a countertop and ornate arched backsplash in unpolished Rosso Asiago marble to match the sink’s matte blush surface. “I appreciate the element of surprise in the projects we do together,” Delgado-Elias says, adding that this sort of conundrum turned victory defines their partnership: With great skill, he realizes her whims, while her imagination propels his craft.