Jewelry Designer Jenna Blake Grosfeld Opens Her Bel Air Tudor Revival Home

The foyer alone announces the terms of engagement. A pair of early 1900s parchment chairs by Carlo Bugatti — exceptionally delicate, already mended by an artisan — sit precisely where they're meant to be used, not admired from a distance. That distinction matters enormously to Jenna Grosfeld, the jewelry designer behind Jenna Blake, who shares this 13,000-square-foot Tudor revival in Bel Air with her husband, real-estate developer Jason Grosfeld.

The house carries considerable history. Dean Martin, Tom Jones, and Nicolas Cage each called it home at various points, and the property's more eccentric chapters left their mark: Cage's tarantula room and Martin's private performance stage did not survive the renovation of the 1940 residence. What did survive, and what the Grosfelds fought to preserve, are the architectural bones that make the house genuinely irreplaceable — chief among them the original leaded-glass windows, their lion motifs and small colored fragments hand-cut with the kind of precision that no modern contractor would propose as a first solution. When the couple moved in, every single piece had to be recut because the original panels were not waterproof. "The lead paneling is so detailed," Grosfeld said during a walkthrough for Robb Report's Grand Tour series. "Each piece had to be hand cut." She considers these windows among the house's defining details, things that "need to be appreciated."

The interior reads like a collector's life work given architectural scale. The grand dining room holds a custom cut-glass table with vintage Art Deco bases, Gustav Siegel chairs, a Barovier & Toso Murano-glass chandelier, and a set of Grosfeld House Regency-style buffets. The primary bedroom is anchored by a circa 1925 Paul Dumas rug, lit by James Mont table lamps, and dressed in drapes cut from Jane Churchill's Delaney fabric. Even the problem of lighting a room with large scale and uneven ceiling heights was resolved by instinct: Grosfeld walked into a shop one day and found an Italian chandelier that answered the question.

What connects every object in the house to every piece in her jewelry collection is the same underlying logic: beauty is a function of use, not of preservation. "That's the irony of me — I am the least precious person, especially for a jewelry designer," she said. "I am rough on my things. What's the point of having it if you can't live with it? A home needs to be functional. I love precious things, but I'm not precious about them." A frayed edge beneath a chair or a loosened stitch on a leather seat registers not as failure but as evidence that the room is actually inhabited.

Grosfeld has been collecting vintage jewelry and antiques for over two decades, and the habit began early. One of her oldest collections is a group of Swedish ceramics she became fascinated with as a child, after spotting one of the pieces on her mother's bedside table. When she was in her early twenties, she came across one at an antique shop and bought it immediately. The collection has grown in scope and ambition ever since. It is the same impulse, she explained, that eventually drew her to jewelry design: "With jewelry you can do the same thing and you can collect and layer and wear so many different things together at the same time."

That philosophy saturates the Jenna Blake aesthetic — art deco and mid-century references, French designers of the 1940s, a "more is more" sensibility executed in vibrant color, definitive texture, and materials that resist easy categorization. Multi-hued bead strands and bold cocktail rings sit alongside quieter pieces, but all of them share an emphasis on heirloom-quality materials and the kind of craftsmanship that ages honestly. Grosfeld works out of the Bel Air house, which means the Tudor revival functions simultaneously as residence, studio, and ongoing argument for why beautiful things should never be roped off.