181 Main St., East Hampton, NY 11937
(631) 324-4081
5 rooms $$$

The J. Harper Poor Cottage is quite a romantic B & B, and a "cottage" only in the British or Newport use of the word. It's more like an Elizabethan manse on Main.

Located on Main Street, facing the Village Green and other clapboard Colonials of historic note, the stately English manor house developed into the manse it is today from humble beginnings as saltbox tavern, with hand-hewn beams (saved!) and paneled walls (saved!) from the mid 17th century.

J. Harper Poor bought the house in 1900 and, in time, redid it, outside and in, in the Arts and Crafts style so fashionable in that era: mullioned windows, a Colonial-style staircase that reveals the formal English gardens in the back, and an embellished concrete wall that shields the lower floor from the street.

Sidney and Miriam Perle, also owners of the 1770 House, purchased this house in 1984 and used it as a bed and breakfast for a number of years. It was then called the Philip Taylor House. Recently, Rita and Gary Reiswig, former owners of the Maidstone Arms, purchased and renovated the imposing structure and dedicated themselves to creating the perfect home away from home. They opened the B & B during the summer of 1996.

You enter through an arched gateway into a beguiling formal English garden. Walk beyond the 200-year-old wisteria vines to the entry, and stand under a trellis-patterned wallpaper on the entry ceiling. The wallpapers and fabrics, predominantly William Morris designs, enhance the décor by giving it color and life.

"Have nothing in your house which you do not know to be useful or believe to be beautiful," was the motto of the Arts and Crafts decorative period, and it prevails as the operative decorating style here.

Beyond the entry there's a lovely foyer and a large, gracious living room with a grand piano. Four enormous armchairs sit in front of the tiled fireplace. There's also a library and a private dining room.

The breakfast room is a large solarium: French doors bring in the light in winter, and open to the outdoors in summer. There are small, round tables in each corner, a comfy couch facing the fireplace, and a table where coffee or wine and assorted goodies await. Natural wood floorboards and paneling, oriental carpets and tiles on an ornamental fireplace, considered shockingly simple by Victorian tastes, add to the spectacular space.

Havens of tranquility await upstairs in four fabulous bedrooms. Each has special contours and comforts, such as working fireplaces and whirlpool tubs, but these are only part of the appeal. The size of the rooms, the little panes of glass on the windows, and the verdant views make it even more inviting. There are special decorative touches; white painted windows and fireplaces, checked seat covers on long window seats, stripes here and there, and wonderful patterns on drapes and chairs. Textures abound, such as shiny lacquer, woven wicker and soft velvets. The comforts are impressive: Frette robes in the closets, three phones, and little amenities such as a gift bag of toiletries.

One particularly appealing room, #14 (rooms are numbered according to the telephone extensions) in the 18th-century part of the house, has a queen-size upholstered bed that matches the trim on the white linen drapes, hand-hewn beams, a huge fireplace, gray-green paneled doors hung on wrought iron hinges, a claw-foot tub (not to worry, there's also a modern shower), and a fainting couch.

The spacious corner room, #12, has aing-size bed that is a washed oak replica of Cotswold Regent Arts and Crafts design, a fireplace and a view of a magnificent church, St. Luke's.

Here's my memory of an overnight here. I arrive, exhausted after a 14-hour flight and two-hour drive from the airport. I walk into room #11 two hours before a dinner reservation. The bed is crisp and clean. White on white beds, all Ralph Lauren, complete to the down comforters. Casual enough for a beachy visit. Warm enough for the most sophisticated. Approachable enough for me to put my feet up, spend a few minutes watching the fire (I lit it myself with two matches!), and click the remote (the televisions are sequestered into charming white lacquer corner cabinets) to see what's happened in the world while I was en route.

I soak, alone, save for the rubber froggie, in the two-person whirlpool surrounded by bubbles as thick as froth on a cappuccino. The hosts send up wine and roasted pecans. There's a ledge wide enough to sit around the tub, perfect for a glass of wine. My brain concentrates on the tile design (Gary's son did all the intricate tile work), and on the shade of yellow; it's not lemon, but more like the color of zabaglione.

An hour later, I emerge renewed, restored, clean-haired, and ready for a romantic dinner. Bob smiles. In the morning, the cotton-lined drapes over curtains worked their wonder and kept sound and light away. We slept until past 10.


In and Around NEW YORK: Romantic Weekends
(The Hamptons page 75) by Irvina Lew