Like many fashion designers, Carlos Miele enjoys several artistic outlets beyond the sartorial. When not dressing the likes of Alicia Keys, Christina Aguilera, Sandra Bullock and Eva Mendes for the red carpet, he finds time to create contemporary dance, music and video installations for such prestigious venues as the John F. Kennedy Center for Performing Arts in Washington and collaborate with photographers such as Michael Roberts, the legend-ary fashion and style director of Vanity Fair. “I see no distinction between designing a garment that follows the lines of the body and working with a choreographer who tailors movement to music or a gardener or architect who creates organic shapes to accentuate the landscape,” says Miele.

He may lead a cosmopolitan life, dashing between shows and his stores in New York’s Meatpacking District and the fashionista’s favoured thoroughfare of Rue Saint-Honoré in Paris, but Miele’s heart and soul are very much in his native Brazil. He draws on indigenous craft in his work, commissioning bead stitchers and crocheters from the favelas of São Paolo. And he uses his influence in fashion and the arts to help fund a free hospital for the city’s children.

The latest addition to his list of projects is his home on the shores of Lagoa da Conceição in southern Florianopolis, an island off the southeast coast of Brazil, an hour’s plane ride from São Paolo.

“I chose to build my house here because, as a kid, it was where I used to come to surf. The island has 42 beaches, but this one, set back from the town of Camboriú, is relatively unspoilt, with plenty of rainforest. It took me five years to find the right location; I searched all round the island.”

Miele designed the house as a glass box. “I was inspired by Farnsworth House in Illinois, built by Mies van der Rohe in 1951. Modernist style is pure and its openness is perfect for a tropical location. It suits me because I don’t like to feel confined.

“I wanted a clean, simple shape that would blend in with the landscape rather than compete with it. The building was constructed 1.5m above the ground to give the impression that it is floating. The glass walls mean that we not only look out on the water and forest, but also have the maximum amount of natural light indoors – the interior lighting of the house is minimal.”

The boundary between indoors and out is blurred – huge panels to the front and back of the house slide back to open the room to the cooling breeze; the azure pool runs uninterrupted from the open-plan living room to the lake’s edge; and the delineation between the forest and the sitting room is seamless.

The furnishing and decoration of the house is a blend of styles. “Our country is a cultural melting pot – it brings together European, African and Native Indian influences – and that mix is reflected in what I have here.” There are chairs by Van der Rohe and Corbusier, brightly coloured feather headdresses, Indian wooden seats and native baskets and pottery. In contrast to the glass, the feature walls are of roughly hewn, strata-like São Tomé stone, and the floors of arabesque stone and peroba mica wood. “Rough finishes go with the beach life,” says Miele.

“Because of the scale of the ground floor, I divided it into sections,” he explains. “There’s a lounging and listening zone in front of the fireplace, with an oversized, 12-seater sofa I designed and had made, and a more formal sitting area, with traditional chairs and sofas facing each other.” But his favourite place to sit, and the point from which to admire the best view, is the Armando Cerello hanging-basket chair. It swings gently in the afternoon breeze and gives a real feeling of what this house is about – relaxation.

The section of the ground floor that includes the dining room and an indoor pool is double height; the upper level is reached by open wooden stairs that lead up past a yellow-painted wall to a glass-fronted balcony. Above the dining table is a series of vivid green Lucifer photographs of a stage performance at the John F. Kennedy Center. The whirling figures look like dervishes and the colour reflects the lush green of the landscape beyond.

The balcony links the house’s three bedrooms. Miele’s is more of a suite, with an ample walk-in dressing room, but the wardrobes that line the walls are half empty – just a few pairs of shorts, some waterproof jackets, well-worn trainers and sun-bleached shirts rattle around inside. The room is dominated by a tall bed framed with a Portuguese carved-wood headboard and partially concealed under a throw made of hundreds of small hand-stitched rosettes. “They’re called fuxico, which is the Brazilian for ‘gossip’, and they’re made by the local women when they gather to sit in sewing circles and chatter,” explains Miele. They also feature on some of the figure-skimming evening gowns in his winter collection.

The glass-panelled en suite bathroom, with its oversized bath and open shower, contains an unusual decorative item that looks like a two-tier shelf. At first it might be mistaken for another local artefact, but the designer explains that it is, in fact, his grandfather’s ironing board – a relic of the past in the house he has designed and built for the future.

www.carlosmiele.com

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