A 120 square metre flat in Madrid, built in 1972. Renovated in 2026. And the biggest decision in the whole project was what was not demolished.

The studio Vílchez Uriarte - architect Cristina Vílchez and interior designer Mireia Uriarte - kept most of the original layout, all the ceiling mouldings and part of the furniture the house already had. At a time when every renovation begins with a skip and the words "open plan", that is an almost provocative decision.

Living and dining room: one space, two roles

The two share an open space but are not merged. A floor-to-ceiling partition separates them without isolating them - a solution that gives a clear boundary where a wall would give enclosure. The palette is neutral: powder-toned beige, white and wood. The armchairs were not thrown out but reupholstered in fabric from Gancedo. Above the sofa hangs a contemporary work by Elena Yv-Skaya.

In the dining room stands a classic wooden table with contemporary light chairs - a combination that does not demand everything come from the same era. A door of black iron and glass leads to the kitchen: it keeps the view open and the space independent.

The hallway is not wasted floor area

The entrance solves the hardest question in any 1970s flat - too little light and too little depth. The answer is a floor-to-ceiling mirror, deliberately aged, which gives the light back and doubles the perception of depth. In front of it stands a stone console made to measure by the studio itself, with rounded geometric openings that run directly counter to the traditional tone of the mirror.

The kitchen and the work corner

The kitchen is functional without being surgical: bespoke units, light below and dark above, a Dekton worktop and a continuous front that reduces visual noise. Next to it is the work nook, and that is where the most interesting decision in the flat happens - a botanical William Morris wallpaper, hung so that it reads as a framed picture rather than a wall covering. With a rounded table and a built-in bench, it stops being an office and becomes a place where somebody sits down.

The bedrooms: green instead of white

The main bedroom kept the classic mouldings on the wall behind the bed and goes for light tones, with green textile accents and gold wall lamps. Next to it is the dressing room with white panelled doors and black metal fittings, the floor continuing without a break. The washbasin there is designed as a dressing table, not as a sanitary fixture.

The guest bedroom goes bolder: a wall in deep green textured resin, and above the bed four botanical prints. White, green and wood, in balance. The second bathroom combines stone, dark wood and white, with a large mirrored surface and a niche in the wall instead of shelves.

What this renovation says

Around here, renovating an old flat almost always means one thing: everything down to the concrete, then plasterboard, then everything new. That has its own logic - the effort of saving old moulding is greater than the effort of a new ceiling, and the craftsman who knows how to restore it costs more than the one who knows how to replace it.

But the arithmetic at the end is more interesting than it looks. This flat is not expensive because it has expensive materials; it has a bespoke console, reupholstered armchairs and wallpaper hung like art. The most expensive thing in it is the decision to keep what had already stood for fifty-four years. How many flats in our own 1970s blocks had mouldings exactly like these before the first suspended ceiling covered them?