Our Pilgrimage into Chateau Living
Inside Château de Belebat: A Living, Breathing Home in the Heart of the Loire Valley
Some houses pride themselves on being beautiful, others insist on being alive. Belebat belongs to the latter.
When Jeff and I found it, the same walls that have witnessed centuries of dinners, births, storms, silence and much laughter were just standing there, not just asleep, but immersed in a decade-long coma. We fell in love immediately as we realized that a house like this does not belong to you… it is you who belong to it.
Belebat has taught me more about patience than any school ever could. Restoration is a journey and its secrets are revealed slowly to those willing to listen. Much of the interior is gone now due to a fire that sparked on a cold winter night in January 2003 and burned for five days straight, erasing almost five-hundred years of heritage, leaving behind nothing but charred memories and hollow rooms. We are now doing our best to make it a home again, not by restoring what was lost, but by inviting life back into what remains.
Watch the Full TourFor those who prefer moving pictures to paragraphs, this is the unfiltered tour!
The Kitchen Where Everything Happens
There is a lot one can tell about a person from looking at their kitchen. Ours, always open, tells you that we cook often, talk a lot, and-no-matter-what we always end up here.
This room was the original kitchen of the château back in the sixteenth century —long before anyone thought to alphabetize their spices, Thermomixs and air fryers. When we arrived, nothing from that kitchen remained. As a matter of fact, back in 1850, the room was transformed into a library. We turned it back into a kitchen because it is a bright, airy space right next to the largest room in the castle which is where we wanted the dining room. This is where life happens, the beating heart of the house. It is where homework is done, pasta rolled, flowers arranged, and days are planned over coffee and mate —a sort of green tea almost no Argentinian can live without.
Every family argument has been resolved at this table. Every plan has started here.
I wake before anyone else to have my first cup in silence. The boys come rushing in soon after, and the house begins its daily symphony —although most times it resembles more of a rhapsody. There is nothing elegant about it, but it is real and filled with an almost tactile air of nostalgia. My favourite gadget is kept safe in a cupboard that Jeff and I are putting together— a sous-vide machine gifted by dear friends.
This is also where we host our chic, Chef’s Kitchen Table—an intimate dinner open exclusively to our guests. It’s an elegant yet laidback seven-course meal prepared with seasonal produce and paired with lots of local wine, our most sought-after dinner event. You can experience it here!
A Dining Room Fit for those Long Stories
A pair of long, tired, white curtains takes you from the kitchen to the dining room. In the 16th century, this room was the single social room of the house. The family who built Belebat was an established, noble family, but not the entertaining kind. No ballroom, drawing room or salons. Just this room, which had to hold every celebration, confession, and scandal.
At one end of the room stands the stoical large fireplace, a silent witness to centuries gone by. It has been warming the space steadily since the early 1500s, its limestone sheltering echoes of countless winters. When we arrived, it lacked a chimney breast —reduced to merely a shadow of its former self, a hollow reminder of its past glory. I took the practical route, at first, and requested a restoration estimate. The quote? A staggering €100,000! Faced with such a cost, we ultimately had to go with a much simpler solution instead. Sometimes, true preservation means understanding when to let go and knowing when to stop.
In the center of the room the four-meter-long table finds itself surrounded by an array of country chairs, a mismatched symposium of different antique market finds. A rather simple display in true French country fashion that always seems to blur time between lunch and dinner.
On the back wall hangs the first artworks I ever bought. The artist had them draping over a battered Ford parked right at the end of the High Line in NYC—it was love at first sight. They are still with me today, their color and texture serve as a lasting reminder that sometimes, an impulsive decision can actually be a spark of wisdom.
One of the best part of doing a home slowly while living in it, is that you get to try all sorts of ideas before committing to them. The mock china cabinet that takes the far wall, opposite the fireplace, is a great example. Five mismatched pieces stand as one elegant structure. It holds plates, glassware, linens, knives and forks… everything you see here, less than half of what we actually own, it’s a graphic testimony of my strong believe in overstocking beauty.
Curtains in chateau living are always a challenge. A very costly one. Four meter tall windows are quite the affair, solved only because Jeff once returned from the States with two rolls of fabric gift from Jeff’s Great Uncle. Miraculously, it was just enough to cover the five biggest windows facing the front of the chateau, framing the front facade with a sheer sigh.
The Winter Room
The boys named it. We only really use it in the cold months. But it is at Christmas when this room really shines. Each year the tree blocks the window to the park —one of the largest windows in the chateau.
Now picture the fireplace burning constantly, giving the room a shimmering heartbeat, and you will catch the smell of pine needles and orange peel in the air... It truly feels like stepping into an illustrated storybook. This is why “the winter room” nickname stuck.
The most treasured object here is a painting the boys made for Jeff’s 50th birthday. They were one, two and three years old and had just moved in with us. I pinned sheets of paper together, traced their little outlines, and handed them ink and cotton buds. They were barely toddlers and what they created is irreplaceable! And so is their beaming pride every time someone compliments the piece without even knowing its story.
The piano is on loan from friends who are restoring their own château. They already have two others to protect from construction, so we were asked to house this one until they finish the work. Secretly, I really hope their renovation lasts forever. The piano simply looks like it belongs here, don’t you think?
On the coffee table rests a collection of books that traces my life through decades. Architecture from my early beginnings in Buenos Aires, fashion and tailoring from my London decade and gardening and country living from the family adventure chapter here at Belebat. Well, and inevitably, a cat. Here you will always find a cat peacefully asleep on that page left open.
The Entry Hall
When visitors step through the front door —well, the front door-way at the moment— they stand in what used to be a rather traditional country foyer. A stone staircase once spiralled upward carrying along its carved oak banister. Sadly, we never got to see it, it was lost after the great fire of 2003. But, one afternoon, within a group of cyclists that stopped by, an older man, brushing off his tears, told me he was 14 years old when, as the carpenter’s young apprentice, had the honour to work on the restoration of that very banister. Although seeing it gone, moved him to tears, he told me he was very happy to know the chateau is being loved once again. I don’t seek validation, but I do love a good lesson and thinking about his words made me realised that restoration is not nostalgia, but memory continuing its work.
At the moment, one of the walls shows two test patches of plaster, one in hospital grey, the other a tragic magnolia. A contractor tried to convince us to choose them as the base colour palette for the restoration. I told him I would rather live in an unfinished house than a beige one!
The Rooms That Will Be
At the far end of the ground floor there are five small rooms in varying degrees of disarray. I call this the real-life wing. Paint cans, boxes of Christmas decorations, stray tools, and an unreasonable number of candles —at least for most people—hahaha. It is not a pretty sight, but it’s an honest one.
Only two of the five rooms will retain their current use, one houses the stairs that brings the kids all the way to their “lego-room” on the third floor of the castle; the other one is a small entryway. For the remaining three the plan is simple, one will be turn into a boot room and laundry and the last two rooms will then serve as our downstairs bedroom and its ensuite bath. Those last two matters more than anything. I am practical about time —probably the one and only thing I am practical about— because there will come a day when Jeff and I will no longer want to climb twenty-four steps to reach our bed at the end of a long day. So the bedroom will come downstairs.
These are the projects we have planned for the end of the year —although we are already here and no stone has been touched yet. We have been living in the castle for three summers now and this bathroom will be the first fully functional one in the house since the fire. People assume château life is effortless luxury. In truth, it is patience mixed with dust. When that bathroom is finally finished, I fear I might celebrate with absurd enthusiasm —and perhaps a few glasses of champagne in the shower!
The Beauty of Imperfection
People imagine château life as glittering perfection. It is not. It is more like an ongoing conversation between history and humanity. Belebat moves with the seasons. It groans in winter and sighs in summer. Belebat negotiates with every idea I try to impose. It does not obey. It collaborates.
I was never a fan of the new and shiny. I prefer the beauty of things that reveal their age. I like walls that show fingerprints, floors that remember footsteps, and furniture that invites touch. Every imperfection adds another verse to the story and I am an unapologetic sucker for poetry!
When I walk through the Château, I feel Belebat’s heartbeat under my feet. It is a pulse that comes from centuries of people trying, failing, building and loving within these walls. I do not want it silent. I want it alive.
Will You Too Join the Family?
SAVING BELEBAT—the foundation.
Please join us in preserving this vital piece of French heritage by supporting SavingBelebat.org today. 100% of your generous donation will directly contribute to the restoration and safeguarding of Belebat, ensuring that this historic site can be enjoyed by all of us and future generations. Every contribution, big or small, monthly or one-time, helps maintain the integrity and cultural significance of this treasured landmark.
By becoming part of our restoration journey, you play an active role in protecting a symbol of history and tradition.
Your support enables essential conservation efforts, educational programs, and community engagement initiatives. Together, we can secure the legacy of Belebat and share its story with the world. Donate today and make a lasting impact on preserving this unique cultural heritage.
