Queen of Kitsch

By day a bright young star in the worlds of fashion and photography. at night Karen Inderbitzen-Waller retreats into her beloved pink house where retro reigns.

Words: Claire McCall  Photographs: Matthew Williams

VLADIMIR TRETCHIKOFF ONCE SAID that the only difference between himself and Vincent van Gogh was that the ill-fated Dutch painter died a pauper, whereas he became wealthy. Thework of this Russian-born artist, known as the King of Kitsch, has been a passion for photographer and fashion stylist Karen Inderbitzen-Waller for eight years. “Some of the women he painted are just beautiful,” she says as she sips vanilla tea, curled up on her chartreuse 1950s sofa. By hook or by crook she’s assembled 23 of his prints, intrepidly scouring second-hand shops and fighting off interest from fellow website buyers.

Rich in romance, the Tretchikoffs bring a nostalgic presence to the pink bungalow Karen (below right) rents with her flatmate, French model Avril Planqueel (left). For Karen, such vintage finds are not only fascinating but imbued with a sense of longevity. “I like that these things have lasted, that they’ve made it through so many decades,” she says. There’s a certain poignancy to her statement. Karen, recently returned home from a stint living in Sydney, is just emerging from a “year of sadness” brought on by the tragic loss of her partner there. This house, crammed with an array of pre-loved and rediscovered contents, offers her some comfort and continuity.

Auckland’s Sandringham is not the sort of area you’d imagine such a well-respected fashionista to favour. Karen has brushed shoulders with the celebrity set and collaborated with the country’s best-known designers. She’s dressed songbirds Bic and Boh Runga, styled Aussie popstar Delta Goodrem for a cover of Rolling Stone and regularly consults to catwalk labels Kate Sylvester, Nom*D, Lonely Hearts Club and Little Brother. But she’s not seduced by the glamour or hype. Her feet are planted on solid suburban ground. 

Not for her the modern, soulless apartment or the butchered Ponsonby villa, agleam in aluminium and white, its heart ruthlessly renovated.  “I hate boring,” she says. “You have to keep the fantasy alive. Life becomes dreary when you start to pin bills to the refrigerator.” Instead, she has fashioned herself a film-set to live in: a whimsical haven where retro furniture and obscure memorabilia take top billing. Her inspiration is drawn mainly from old movies. “I’m a big fan of director David Lynch and I love photographing actresses. They somehow seem more three-dimensional than models.”

Fate conspired to deliver Karen the house she now occupies. She was flatting nearby and didn’t expect to be so taken with the neighbourhood. “I fell in love with the culture, the colourful local shops and the Hindu nature of it all. It felt so far removed from Auckland.” Out walking with a friend one evening, she spotted the flaking-pink weatherboard home with its quaint line-up of garden statues. “I actually said: ‘Why can’t places like that ever come up for rent?’”

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