Exotic Design Brings
Morocco to Silicon Valley

When Heidi Roizen recently consulted a property appraiser about the impact of a new addition to her home, he offered up a piece of advice.

"Lady, I'm guessing an Islamic-themed renovation with an underground nightclub is not going to add a lot to resale value," the appraiser noted, referring to the 9/11 attacks that had taken place just after Ms. Roizen had decided to build a Moroccan Kasbah right next to her home in Silicon Valley.

With this article, Home Economics kicks off an occasional feature examining unusual home-renovation projects -- blueprints that deviate from the basic Corian-and-stainless-steel redoes that typically center on what shade of gray-beige to use. Too often, in the interests of an easier resale, renovation projects follow common design schemes, leaving them interchangeable and unmemorable.

Instead, we'll be looking at how extensively -- and at what cost -- some people incorporate personal interests into the design of their homes. Ms. Roizen saw no problem with using the renovation to celebrate a culture, look and ethos that she had become enamored with since the idea was suggested by a designer. Ms. Roizen had been casting about for a way to create a space that was both fun and functional -- a single spot that could be used for everything from entertainment to exercise and family lounging.

Ms. Roizen's project in Atherton, Calif., has a massive oval wooden dome, chairs made of old saddlebags and inlaid camel bone -- even antique knives and guns decorating the walls of a stand-up-style men's toilet that's complete with tiles of Saddam Hussein, Osama bin Laden and Joseph Stalin as aiming spots. Ms. Roizen's husband, David Mohler (a former Special Forces battalion surgeon and currently an orthopedic oncologist) in an avid weapons collector and she wanted the place to reflect his unusual interests.

The Project: A Moroccan Kasbah in Silicon Valley The Look: Casablanca meets suburban U.S.A. The Cost: The oval dome cost $30,000 to build and install, but the goatskin-covered light fixtures ($8) were cheaper than anything Ikea offers The Hitch: Finding a contractor who knows how to install a warped dome from Morocco

She also wanted to create something striking, which is why Morocco was a natural inspiration. "The gaudiness, the vividness, the color and the beauty of Morocco ... it spoke to me about life," Ms. Roizen says.

Actually, the original impetus came during a vacation in 2000 when she read a book called "The Age of Spiritual Machines: When Computers Exceed Human Intelligence" by Ray Kurzweil. "The basic message was that humans would be replaced someday by silicon-based life," said Ms. Roizen. Her own technology career -- from the founding of a software firm to her current job as a venture capitalist -- has contributed to that kind of future. "I wanted to create a place that said the opposite of that," she says.

But making such a drastic design statement wasn't feasible in their house, which was built in 1919 in a more formal, Mediterranean style. The house didn't really have a family room, an easy place for casual gatherings or exercise, or a garage.

Rather than try to splice those features onto the existing home, she decided to put up an entirely separate building. An underground tunnel -- which adds some Marrakech intrigue -- connects the structures. Another advantage to choosing the Moroccan theme is that the style wasn't too far from that of the original house. "I did not want it to feel as if the new addition was blown in on a tornado," she says.

Ms. Roizen and her husband traveled to Morocco to pick up furniture and fixtures. There, she worked with Mohamed Tiatambou, a gallery owner and broker who led her through various markets for new and antique goods. Though going to such lengths may seem extravagant, Ms. Roizen says that if you are outfitting a large space, it is more cost-efficient. You can ship about a 10-by-10-by-20-foot container on a boat for about $4,000.

Domed Ceiling

She used two containers that included leather chairs, various light fixtures, hammered brass sinks, antique carved doors and columns and patterned grills, as well as glassware and fabrics.

Some things were costly, such as the doors at $2,500 (she later had to fireproof some of them to meet local building codes, which further added to the cost). But other items were inexpensive, especially compared with how much it would have cost to acquire them in the U.S. The lovely detailed sink, for example, was only $35, while goat skin and tin lamps were $8.

The highest-cost item turned out to be something Ms. Roizen hadn't planned on: a large dome with a traditional Zillij-pattern that graces the main room of the new building. While most domes are round, Ms. Roizen was assured during her trip to Morocco that one could be done in an oval shape to meet design specs for the space, and she made a deposit. Later, she received an e-mail picture of the dome sitting upside down like a huge salad bowl, with a note from Mr. Tiatambou saying simply: "Your dome."

Outside of new building

The piece then had to be cut up to be shipped, got held up in customs (it arrived almost exactly a year after 9/11), and then sat in Ms. Roizen's driveway while her contractor scratched his head trying to figure out how to put it back together and install it. One major problem was that the dome had warped in transit and metal bands were needed to get it into shape. Total costs for the endeavor was about $30,000. But the dome delivers a striking note to the project, Ms. Roizen says, who added that doing a painted version on plaster of such a design would have cost much more if done here. "And next time we put a dome in, we're ready to deal with it," she jokes.

Building further on the theme, she found a local craftsman who was able to add colors to the plaster material to create the deep red and orange tones of Moroccan walls. (In Morocco, those hues are inherent in the clay.) And on the wall leading downstairs to a large area used for entertainment, Ms. Roizen installed a smoky blue neon sign, Club M, which lends a Casablanca-like air to the place.

It is there that she, her daughters and a troupe of her friends ("They shall remain nameless," says Ms. Roizen) practice belly dancing with an instructor. It is hobby she got interested in after visiting a number of local Middle Eastern festivals here. "Once you start on something," she says, "you never know where it takes you."

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