A complete transformation — from the architecture out.
The entry foyer at 1833 Bruce Drive was designed to make a statement before a single word is spoken. White oak hardwood — the same species running through the entire home — is laid in a herringbone pattern in the entry, transitioning to a straight run in the great room beyond. That transition is invisible unless you know where to look, and it is flawlessly executed.
A renovation of this ambition announces itself at the threshold. The door opens and the whole house reveals itself at once — the height, the light, the materials, the scale.
Through the open black steel-framed French doors, the home flows from entry to great room to kitchen to the outdoors without obstruction. The pool is visible from the front door. That sightline is not an accident — it is the result of deliberate planning during the renovation, and it is one of the most powerful spatial moves in the project.
A thick-edge quartz island with brass faucet, wire pendants twelve feet overhead, a custom slab-front range hood, and — visible through the pass-through — the navy laundry room cabinetry that threads the home's design story together.
A vaulted ceiling over a laundry room. Navy shaker cabinetry wall-to-wall. A full mudroom cubby system. This is what it looks like when a builder refuses to treat utilitarian spaces as afterthoughts.
A rectangular pool with clean concrete coping, positioned beneath a mature live oak canopy that no amount of money or design can replicate. Preserved, not removed. That was the right call.
Encaustic cement tile — a hand-pressed, grey-on-grey floral medallion pattern — covers every surface of the walk-in shower from floor to ceiling. Frameless glass. Multiple shower heads. Recessed niche. Against this, the rest of the room is pure white: two separate vanity runs on opposing walls, large-format Carrara marble floor, radius-corner chrome mirrors.
The contrast works because the rest of the room is completely quiet. Every element exists to frame the shower, not compete with it. That kind of design discipline is rare — and even rarer to execute in tile at this level.
The secondary bath runs a continuous double vanity — shaker cabinetry in warm white, Carrara marble countertop and full-height backsplash, brushed brass plumbing throughout. Above: three angled rectangular mirrors in thick brass frames, brass sconces between them, and through the rightmost mirror, a glimpse of the marble shower surround beyond.
The angled mirror detail alone — three tilted frames, deliberately off-level — is a specification most builders either don't know to make or don't know how to execute. It is a five-star hotel move in a residential renovation, and it works.
Every builder will do the kitchen and the master bath right. The laundry room is where you find out what kind of builder they actually are.
Navy shaker cabinetry — the same specification you'd find in a designer kitchen — runs floor-to-ceiling on both walls. A quartz countertop with undermount sink and commercial-grade pull-down faucet. A white hexagonal penny tile backsplash. And above it all, a vaulted ceiling with an industrial chrome pendant that would look entirely at home in a Soho loft.
On the opposite wall, a full mudroom cubby system: open lockers, closed storage above, a bench height designed for sitting. Every member of the household has a home, and every square foot of the room earns its place.
This room costs more to build correctly than it needs to. That is the point.
The rear of the home was designed as a complete outdoor living system: a rectangular pool with concrete coping and clean tile work, a wood deck with bifold glass doors that fold completely away, a dedicated dining terrace with room for eight, and the existing live oak canopy preserved as the organizing element of the entire outdoor space.
Removing that tree would have been easier. It also would have been the wrong call. Instead, the pool line, the terrace layout, and the deck placement were all oriented to work beneath the tree rather than around it — creating a sense of permanence that new landscaping cannot achieve.
The bifold doors are the architectural gesture that makes it work: when fully open, the interior and exterior become a single room. The pool is visible from the kitchen. The kitchen is visible from the pool deck. The home breathes.
The primary bedroom carries the same architectural language as the rest of the home: vaulted ceiling, white walls, white oak floors, and a door that opens directly to the pool deck. A beaded chandelier — the same restrained coastal vocabulary as the entry pendant — hangs at the room's apex.
Three windows, a glass door, and a linen bench at the foot of the bed. The room is deliberately uncomplicated — because the renovation's complexity lives in the laundry room, the baths, the kitchen, the entry. The bedroom is the exhale.
We take on a limited number of whole-home renovations each year on St. Simons Island and across the Golden Isles. If you have a property that deserves this level of attention, let's talk.