Holding court in Dondi Teehankee’s hideaway

You fall in love with an Anton Mendoza-designed house for several reasons: One, because it is always an elegant house; two, because it is the kind that inspires warmth and closeness in the occupants; three, because it is tailored to fit the owner’s personality so each house is unique; four, because it somehow speaks of happy times between the owner and designer that you know immediately there was that singular connection during the building process. And fifth, because of the designer himself.

It is a rare person who speaks of his job as a "privilege" and of himself – an interior designer – as an "instrument" of God to make people’s dreams come true. A deeply spiritual person, Anton breezes through projects without ever losing his cool, whether there’s a delay in construction or the wrong materials keep being delivered to the site. He finds a reason behind everything not least of all the mistakes – and always, he swears, it works out for the better. "You get to know people in the process of doing a project. You get to work with small people, try to undertsand where they’re coming from. I always tell my people, in whatever you do you have to attain a sense of dignity. Be good at it. If you’re a janitor, be the best one you can be, then you will have attained your purpose in life. You really have to refer to God all the time," he says softly.

For Anton, being a designer is the best job one can ever have. "Better than being a lawyer or a doctor. When you’re a lawyer, you win a case at the expense of somebody else, so somewhere there’s pain with that. Unlike with us, we create a family atmosphere, we create happiness."

If such is the disposition of your designer, how can a home he creates be anything but beautiful?

"It’s really not just about designing," says Anton Mendoza, whose client profile is made up of the who’s who in Philippine business and society, and corporate projects that include One McKinley. "You are getting to know the soul of another individual, so you build a bond. A lot of my clients are my best friends, some friendships begin before the project, some after. The greatest privilege is for you to be given the chance to fulfill their dreams."

Besides, he doesn’t look at designing as work, it’s more like playing for him. "Like when you were young and you were building houses with Lego," which, incidentally, he did a lot of.

At 11, when his classmates were gallivanting in the malls, Anton was buying his first painting, a Joya, for a thousand pesos. "I never really did enjoy my childhood," he says with a laugh.

At least now, we say, he’s enjoying his Joya.

When we see pictures of the Tagaytay rest house of Justice Undersecretary Manuel "Dondi" AJ Teehankee, this is exactly what he tells us: This home was a dream, the one he had always wanted to build – here in the country – even as he was leading an exciting life as a litigator in New York.

The eighth child of the late Chief Justice Claudio Teehankee and Pilar Duldulao Javier, Dondi graduated valedictorian from the Ateneo Law School (where he now teaches) and topped the Philippine Bar Exams in 1983. He pursued his graduate studies at the University of Michigan in 1986 and at the University of London’s School of Economics and Political Science a year later, earning for himself two Masters of Laws, both on scholarship grants.

Dondi then spent 10 years in New York doing international litigation at Baker & McKenzie and LeBoeuf Lamb Greene & MacRae. In his private practice, he represented clients before the US District Court for the Southern District of New York, the Iran-United States Claims Tribunal in The Hague, the International Court of Arbitration of the International Chamber of Commerce in Paris and the WTO in Geneva. In 1998, he returned to Manila as the international counsel of the Romulo Law Office.

Dondi bought his Tagaytay townhouse in 1994 from a nephew who had built a row of seven. When he came back to the country in 1998, one of his first projects was to complete this weekend home: "an all-white, peaceful getaway" where he could read (he’s a voracious reader, his taste spans from fiction to self-improvement to spiritual) and relax.

Enter Anton Mendoza, childhood friend and probably the only person who could argue with Dondi and win – at least as far as design issues went.

"We had numerous arguments," says Anton. "When I’d make a decision, I’d have to justify it to him just like a lawyer. I felt like I was always in court!"

To Dondi, everything had to make sense, every little thing had to have a function and a reason. He’d ask Anton, "Why is this thing here?" And Anton would say, "Because I like it there." And Dondi would say, "But why?"

Anton says with a laugh, "He’s too intelligent, he’s strange. It’s a good thing he’s not poor or else he’d be called luko-luko."

There were two things the two friends perennially locked horns on: curtains and Dondi’s beloved piano.

Anton Mendoza loves two things about his job: He gets to play with curtains and he gets to create a veritable stage with lighting.

Dondi Teehankee hates two things: Curtains and someone messing with his piano.

Together, they made a perfect match.

Anton, of course, had several tricks up his sleeves. The first of which was to tell his friend that his rest house needed curtains so the furniture inside wouldn’t fade. After two months, he’d say again he was ordering curtains from Germany, and because Dondi was swamped with work and he was a hands-on, hands-off homeowner, he’d give the go-signal.

So when Dondi saw the curtain rods on the windows, the walls, the stairs and the ceilings, all he could say was, "That’s a lot of curtains!"

Today, of course, he considers the curtains a stroke of genius on Anton’s part. The designer loves to add texture and mix different materials – nothing matches is the only consistent thing in this project – while keeping faithful to his minimalist direction. Besides, the curtains were functional as well: When you’re in a cemented house, they serve as an acoustic, otherwise you’ll have echoes, says the designer.

As for the piano – well, there was no negotiation with that one. Dondi has always loved to play. And he had to have the piano there.

"One of Anton’s ideas which is I appreciate now is lighting," says Dondi. "Stockholder yata siya sa Meralco eh."

The white walls in the rest house are given a dramatic twist with plenty of lights, softening the look and making the rooms cozy. Anton lets us in on a secret: Don’t use direct overhead lighting because it highlights the eyebags, bald spots and the flaws. Instead, use floor lights, wall lights – all indirect lighting, never train the lights directly on the occupants.

With Dondi’s townhouse Anton put lights behind the curtains as well, and when they were lit – well, suffice it to say, Dondi had a change of heart.

Case closed.

The project took three years to complete, which was a blessing since it took that long for all their ideas to gel. Dondi’s taste being eclectic, he went from one design style to another on the drawing board.

Anton describes it as: "The side of him that’s the lawyer wanted it English traditional. And because of his exposure in the States, there was the side that wanted everything modern and geometric, even to the point of industrial. Then there was the South Beach look. Then he said, I’m really a Deco person. Then he wanted it Oriental. Why don’t you make it Oriental-English-Deco-Modern?"

In the end, they settled for Dondi’s original vision: A minimalist all-white hideaway with touches modern and oriental accents.

Dondi says, "I think his most important talent is he’s able to bring to full potential his client’s vision. With a guide, the client’s original vision can even be exceeded. It’s a process discovery for the client."

Anton says, "All clients have a vision. The only difference is that some know how to verbalize it or put it on paper and some don’t. So we try to attain that by giving them the proper guidance. ‘This is what you want, this is what you have to give up. If that’s your lifestyle the way you described it to me, then this is the size of room you have to have.’ Then you go back to the architect and say, ‘This is the size of the room, this the view they want to see from the bed.’ It’s as specific as that now. This is the feel they want, they want morning sun, they want afternoon sun. It’s a lot of research, not simply a matter of putting the bedroom here or there. It’s important for the soul of the client to come out. The client has to be part of creating the house. It’s not about somebody else’s personality or lifestyle – not the designer’s but the client’s."

With Dondi, the relationship was much more relaxed, albeit lively. For instance, when Anton describes the Undersecretary as "Mr. Storage," he means he had to convince him not to put a writing desk in every part of the house or a cabinet in his living room as he did in his apartment in New York. "He had a desk in every room, and when you opened his closet it was still an office. He’s such a workaholic. He’d ask, where’s my desk, where’s my office, where do I work, where do I read? If he had cabinets all around him, he’d be the happiest man alive."

Finally, they found a place in the townhouse for Dondi’s library: the basement which opens up to a view of Taal Lake. When asked what his must piece of furniture is, Dondi answers, "Always my lounge chair or reading chair. I love to have them everywhere. I want to read, relax, even snack. I like the salon style. It goes back to the civilized days of Europe, even in the time of Rizal, everyone gathered together and had good conversation and a good drink."

The rest of the house’s furniture pieces were sourced from the old Teehankee house in San Juan – they’re actually Dondi’s childhood furniture which they refurbished.

The guest room, which converts to a family room during the day, has two narra trundle beds. It faces the back view of the house, so Anton created this picture window from which you can develop an affinity with the mountainside.

Another old piece that they incorporated into the modern house was a picture of Dondi’s grandfather, the late Dr. Jose Teehankee, founder of the Chinese General Hospital and the first health director of the country under the Americans. The portrait hangs in the dining room, at the head of the dining table.

From old and personal to new and modern. Dondi bought artworks in New York by Chinese-American artist Huang Wei-min. "I’ve known him for over 10 years and I was in New York for his first ever exhibit." From the white artworks to the colorful solid fabrics on the furniture, the goal was to "make it appear as if they were bought from different parts of the world." So Anton designed the gorgeous pieces. He explains, "The minute you match everything you look like a Laura Ashley or any of these pre-fab places."

Indeed, if there is any word to describe the house, it is Dondi – all the parts of his lifestyle in all the parts of his house.

This white hideaway in Tagaytay is a dream come true for Dondi Teehankee. "Since I was small, I wanted to have a retreat in Tagaytay. I’ve always had a soft spot for Tagaytay."

Now if only he would stop working for a moment, and then sit still in this white house with a view…