uxury, as Webster’s defines it, relates to “unrestrained gratification of the senses.” Welcome to the home of Pam and Doug Van Scoy, where the sights, sounds, feel, and food are pure sensory delight. Situated at the southwesterly tip of Sullivan’s Island, the house is designed to make the most of a panoramic ocean view spanning two lighthouses, Fort Sumter, and the Holy City skyline from the historic Battery to the two-month-old Arthur Ravenel, Jr. Bridge.

Sixteen years ago, Hurricane Hugo unceremoniously removed the original house from this spectacular spot. It took another disaster to bring the Van Scoys here. “After 9-11, I put in a bid,” explains Doug, who recently retired from his position as Senior Executive Vice President of Smith Barney after 30 years. “And then I didn’t sleep for three months.”
It may not have been the first investment he tossed and turned over, but it was undoubtedly the most personal. The Van Scoys—who had their first date at age 15 and have been married 39 years—wanted “the last house we’ll ever build” to be the ultimate gathering spot for family and friends. Inspired by the welcoming porches and small-town intimacy of their West Virginian childhood, the couple hired architect Steve Herlong to create a 21st-century dream home with the heart of a 1930s cottage. “We didn’t want it to be ostentatious or look out of place,” says Doug. “The intent was to make it a lot like what your grandmother’s house would have looked like, but more functional.”

To bridge old-fashioned appeal with modern scale, Herlong broke up a large façade with numerous spaces of varying sizes. The ocean-side wall of windows weaves in and out, creating quaint nooks which compound the number of views in each area. Though, at 5,700 square-feet, the place is hardly diminutive, its aesthetic resembles the kind of charming wooden cottages that were being built at Southern barrier islands around the turn of the century.

“The idea was to base the design on timeless, classic principles,” explains Herlong, who serves on the Sullivan’s Island Design Review Board and recently garnered honors from the South Carolina Chapter of the American Institute of Architects. “We were going for clean, crisp lines, articulated with bays and recessed areas with covered porches, and a variety of shaded and sunny spaces so that at any time of year you can find your comfortable spot.”

The Van Scoys had loved the open floorplan of their previous home in Atlanta, which featured one big family area alongside the kitchen, where their daughters Molly, Anne, and Sarah hung out regularly with Mom and Dad. In their Sullivan’s Island masterpiece, the uninterrupted flow from kitchen to dining and living rooms creates the kind of inviting informality that sends their now-grown kids a message: Come often, and bring friends.
Board and batten on the walls, wide planks of trim, and unusually detailed ceilings add texture and visual interest, help delineate separate spaces, and create a coziness that belies the great room’s grandeur. The Van Scoys purposefully chose a distressed heart-of-pine floor; salvaged from a century-old Georgetown plantation house, its well-worn planks underscore the home’s barefoot informality. “We didn’t want there to be a single place in the house that felt off-limits,” says Pam. “It looks like we live in every room of the house—and we do.”

Pam’s friend, West Virginia-based interior designer Bitsy Schwabe, helped her choose some of the fabrics that add a splash of brightness and personality throughout the home’s two floors. Daughter Sarah Van Scoy, who works at Herlong’s firm, gave designer insights as well—suggesting a vaulted ceiling here, a tray ceiling there. Interior designer Laura Boyle of Daniel Island Design helped the homeowners pull it all together—infusing the décor with the kind of uplifting colors and whimsy Pam loves, while complementing the vivid hues and tranquility of their seaside setting. “This was such a fun project to be a part of because it’s a dream house come true,” says Boyle. “They don’t like things that are stiff and formal—they wanted it to be comfortable.”

The couple entertains frequently. Doug loves to cook and appreciates that the kitchen layout allows him to socialize while he chops and preps. The island is fitted with a sink, a built-in butcher’s block, and three stools. A spacious pantry features shelves big enough to accommodate giant pots and pans. There is also ample room to spread out a feast that might include smoked gouda pasta, cheesy corn chowder, or standing rib roast and popovers. The heart-of-pine table, which the Van Scoys found at an Atlanta antique store, expands from eight to 13 feet. Cabinet-maker Butch Pritchard hand-made an equally long buffet piece, which tucks neatly beneath a bank of windows and features the crackled, barn-red paint that has become something of a Van Scoy signature.

With five bedrooms, six and a half baths, and more than 1,600 square feet of porch and deck space, the place can handle a crowd. But it is also perfectly suited for the kind of serenity that retirement fantasies are made of. Mourning doves and red-winged blackbirds come to sip at the infinity-edged pool, which integrates seamlessly alongside a natural landscape, like a pond in the middle of the marsh.

Doug laughs as he tells of his daughters ganging up on him to insist they include a hot tub. Having given the team carte blanche to build the place, he’d thought he’d better put his foot down somewhere. But he admits he has been entirely won over, proclaiming a soak on a cool night in the 103-degree sanctuary to be “magnificent.” There are other luxury amenities to ooh and ahh over: the master bath’s rain shower is spa-worthy; an exercise room adjoins his-and-hers home offices; washers and dryers—upstairs and down—give guests a level of independence that adds ease to hosting duty.

But for the Van Scoys, and those lucky enough to stay with them, it’s the unique personal touches that make this home so special. “I’d bore you to death if I went through all the things here that are important to me,” offers Doug, sitting at his desk where a black cowboy hat, flags that flew over Normandy, and numerous photographs from generations of a tight-knit clan rest among the rich cherry wood walls and bookshelves. “There are so many great memories here.”

The couple’s shared reverence for history and family and fun has become an intimate part of their décor. Old black-and-white photos of their parents as children hang like benevolent spirits over the master bed.

Friends, too, have an honored spot. Builder Philip W. Smith—who won a Prism Award for outstanding craftsmanship on this house—constructed a long shelf for the upstairs living room where Pam displays a collection of baskets, each one brought to her filled with get-well goodies following her treatment for breast cancer, from which she has since recovered. “I never threw any away,” she says, looking at the diverse array that rambles like a marvelous sculpture across the ledge. “I can still remember who gave me each one.”

Retiring here may have slowed the couple’s pace a little, but certainly not by much. The sun comes in each morning through their front door, and they take a walk together and plan the day. Doug is building a new business—he’s a partner in the recently opened Jim ’N Nick’s Bar-B-Q downtown. Pam has plenty of energy to expend on their baby grandson, Charlie. Life is good.

“If I had to do it over again,” says Doug of the home they built together, “I don’t think there’s a thing I’d change.”