Sheryl Crow's three-year-old son, Wyatt--adorableness incarnate in Toy Story pajamas and rumpled bed head--is perched at the foot of his mother's blue-velvet-upholstered Victorian-looking bed, pointing at a collection of Hugo Guinness drawings hanging on her wall. "Dog:!" he declares, beaming with self-satisfaction. "Butterfly!" As his accurate identifications gleefully continue--"Ladybug: Chair!""--

Crow pops into the room and hands him a bells-to-whistles-equipped toy fire truck. "Want to play with this?" she asks, but he's already bounding off down the long, gallery-like hallway of their New York City loft. ..."I wanted to make sure that we created a place for that sign," she says, explaining the process of working with New York--based architect Elizabeth Roberts who is known for her minimalist approach. "it became a reference point for the materials and palette we used, such as the industrial-looking light fixtures and the concrete floor in the bathroom."
Crow's other main objective was to maintain a sense of openness "so that [the space] felt like a loft and not a bunch of rooms"--something they achieved by installing frosted, barn-style sliding glass doors on the two bedrooms--while also imbuing it with an atmosphere of homey simplicity. So while there's no shortage of rarefied details (the photographs hanging in the brick-walled hall include images by Diane Arbus and David Bailey, as well as a childhood photo of Crow's onetime boyfriend Owen Wilson taken by his mother, Richard Avedon protege Laura Wilson), the balance is firmly tipped toward cozy domesticity. The club chairs in the living room are upholstered with tea-stained antique flour sacks that Crow collected herself; her dishware is a hodgepodge of mismatched plates and Starbucks coffee mugs; and she still uses a circa-1950's O'Keefe & Merritt stove that she bought for her first apartment in ST Louis, back when she was a schoolteacher. "It goes wherever I go," she says, patting it fondly. "it's built like a Buick."...