Life is never boring for Al Kahn and Jillian Crane.
Kahn finds previously unknown toy franchises — from Pokémon and Cabbage Patch Dolls to Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles and Yu-Gi-Oh! — and introduces them to millions of Americans. His wife, actress and writer Crane, has penned an erotic screenplay about a woman obsessed with her husband’s lover and a romantic comedy about how to housebreak a man. Together, they’re hunting down new toys, creating children’s television programs and producing two musicals for Broadway.
“The hook for us is going around the world looking for things no one else has found,” says Kahn, ticking off travels to Japan, South Korea, France and the American South. “We’re really curious about a lot of things. Everything we do has to have a point of difference, be it a product or a place we live or a vacation.”
That eager, fun-loving spirit extends most dramatically to the couple’s NoMad home, a five-story perch with seven outdoor spaces atop a former factory building on 30th Street. Kahn and Crane, who married in 2013, almost didn’t find it. Their 2011 house-hunt focused on townhouses on the Upper East Side and beyond, but those were too cookie-cutter.
“Everything I saw that had been renovated looked the same. Nothing had great views,” says Crane, a vivacious blonde who was relocating from Los Angeles. “Next thing I know, a friend gets on the internet and finds a place where the listing says ‘townhouse in the sky.’ ”
One catch: it was hideous. Enter interior designer and architect Pepe Lopez who led a two-year renovation, helping the couple banish industrial grit and outfit the 5,300-square-foot space. Now, it’s filled with furniture from the ’30s and ’40s and meaningful art pieces in glowing metallics and bright colors.
And, once barren, the many terraces were transformed — courtesy of landscape guru John Woodstock — into havens for marshmallow roasts over a fire pit, sunset drinks on chaises and dips in the pool outside their master bathroom, complete with Champagne. All come with up-close views of NYC skyscrapers and the urban jungle of midtown Manhattan.
“Being on that terrace at night, having music play and watching the city — it’s almost like a movie playing,” says Kahn, a straight-talking Brooklyn native. “Sitting in the pool under the Empire State Building is just amazing.”
For Crane, the apartment is a respite from their hectic lives. “It’s snowing. I’m grilling,” she chuckles, recounting winter nights at home. “The Empire State is lit up. I’m drinking a little wine. It’s quiet and beautiful.”
Crane’s key renovation requirement was a place to entertain. “I wanted a little glamor but not without warmth,” she says. Meanwhile, Kahn’s list was specific and utilitarian: 150 speakers, wired together to create a sound system, a Toto toilet and a home theater. Now an inconspicuous projector screen descends from the living room ceiling.
In that airy space, velvety swiveling chairs, twin tall lamps called torchères and a black-and-gold coffee table hail from favorite local shops, including High Style Deco in Flatiron and Tribeca’s Antiqueria.
Upstairs, in a room painted a brilliant, glossy red, Crane works from home at a delicate wooden desk she inherited from her grandmother, who acquired it in the Bronx in the 1950s. A leopard-print rug, bulbous yellow lighting fixtures from a British bank and a shapely royal blue couch complete the room. “It’s a French loveseat from the ’20s. It’s been green, purple and red — depending on where I live,” she says. “It’s where all the inspiration might happen!”
In the end, Crane got her dining nook — with banquette seating and gilded chairs, all below an iridescent 19th-century Japanese screen bearing chrysanthemums from LA’s Denenberg Fine Arts gallery.
The couple’s sense of theatrical whimsy — they wed on stage at a Berkshires theater; a “Fiddler on the Roof”-style bottle dance kicked off after Kahn stomped on the ceremonial glass — shines through. The guest bathroom has black-and-white wallpaper tiled with pin-up girls.
Downstairs, a sleek all-black powder room has toilet paper to match. “I get panicked when we get short of it,” says Crane.
Prized possessions include a crimson Julian Schnabel painting that Kahn scored after donating to a school. (He got to go to Schnabel’s studio and pick out his prize — then left with two works.) So large it had to be craned into the penthouse, the abstract “Mother Custer” (2002) sits proudly on the living room wall. Friends and family gathered at the piano below it to serenade Kahn on his birthday while a Juilliard student tapped out jazz standards and Broadway hits.
called “Prisoner of Love,” a late work by a period master designer, Erté.
On the coffee table nearby stands a curved “Prisoner of Love” statue — by Erté, “father of art deco” — of a woman with chained hands. (Kahn, waxing poetic, explains: “I loved it because we are all, at some level, prisoners of love.”)
“I am not a collector of things just because people think they may be special,” he says. “I want to collect things that are specific to us, to our family.”
Case in point: On one of the landings, a handmade miniature of a carousel from the early 1900s rests on a side table.
After winding, it plays tinkly music as the swings rotate.
“I took him to a light store in LA, but we didn’t leave with any lights,” Crane says. “We made a deal to buy a toy carousel that wasn’t for sale.”
Their glorious views and ample space invite visitors. “Our guest room is booked solid,” Kahn says.
“Living in this house, you’re so close to it you don’t realize how special it is.”
A permanent resident is Pierre, a 10-year-old Pomeranian-Chihuahua mix who makes the most of balconies laden with urban-friendly flora like Japanese maples and hydrangeas.
One terrace even has a working stone fountain salvaged from a Long Island church.
It is the pièce de résistance of an indoor-outdoor way of life that’s perfect for the season.
“You can grill, take a steam and swim,” Crane says. “You don’t need a summer house — and after this house, we can’t afford it!”
