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E llie Peugeot moved to Paris in 2023 after living for years in London, where she had carved out a successful career as a human-rights lawyer. Upon settling in Paris, however, she began to make a name for herself with remarkable speed — in an entirely different world. Her interior design practice, which she had been pursuing alongside her legal work, quickly took over. A string of projects in London and Paris, scenographies for the gallerist Aline Chastel at PAD Paris and alongside Hauser & Wirth in Gstaad, earned her a reputation for her serenely elegant work—a reputation tenfold by her energy, her easy charm, and her gift for human connection. She cites the work of Robert Kime and Christopher Gibbs as creative inspiration, but also 20th century masters like the Jean-Michel Frank, Armand-Albert Rateau, Louis Süe and André Mare.
Sotheby’s asked her to stage the upcoming exhibition for the Important Design Sale in Paris. The sale will feature pieces from Les Lalannes, Alberto Giacometti, Lucio Fontana, Pierre Chareau and more. Upon chatting with her about her own personal and professional design ethos, it turns out it could have could not have been a more natural fit.
Eric Jansen: Did you work from a theme when designing the scenography?
Ellie Peugeot: Not really a theme—more a philosophy. The idea is to return to the origin of the works, to artistic DNA, as a celebration of the creative process itself. Before any of these pieces became icons of the twentieth century, they were shaped by artists driven by the simple desire to make something, or by an insatiable need to search—with no thought given to the commercial dimension. I want to conjure that atmosphere of solitary, autotelic experience.
So, the setting will evoke their studios?
Yes—I’d like to create an immersive journey that calls to mind the creative environments in which these artists worked. The staging will be an invitation to slow down and rediscover the soul of the work—the vulnerability and discipline behind the finished piece. It would feel like a success if people were able to see these objects not merely as important design, but as artifacts of everything we love: the handmade, the creative risk, the perseverance. That said, the exhibition won’t be a purely didactic exercise—there will be moments of fantasy too. I’ve asked the florist Thierry Boutemy to design installations for the Lalannes. I see many affinities between [Boutemy and the Lalannes], beyond the obvious shared fascination with the natural world.
Has working on this sale deepened your knowledge of certain makers?
Very much so. I had always admired Jean Dupas—his decorative panels for the grand salon of the Normandie, in particular—but in researching this exhibition, I discovered a wealth of private commissions I had no idea existed.
Among all these makers, is there one you wish you could have known?
Diego Giacometti! What fascinates me about him is the life he lived in the shadows. As Alberto Giacometti’s younger brother, he spent decades working as an assistant before slowly becoming a major creator in his own right—yet he lived modestly, shunned celebrity, and concerned himself above all with animals and his craft. His furniture is full of wit and melancholy, and his life raises profound questions about making, humility, and recognition that arrives too late. There is something deeply moving about him as a human being. Diego is interesting precisely because he did not appear to be.
Which piece from the sale would you take home if you could?
I have my eye on the Pierre Chareau desk, which has a wonderful provenance: it was conceived for Madeleine Dior, the couturier’s sister-in-law. With its sliding elements and concealed compartments, it reads like a piece of kinetic architecture.
