120 square meters

High above the rooftops of Hamburg-Ottensen, Ruth Kramer and Thomas Schacht set up a little world in a high bunker that defies times and storms.

Thomas Schacht prefers to sit at the round Saarinen table on one of Arne Jacobsen's "Swan Chairs", working and enjoying the view. Janne Peters

Northern lights: Interior designer Ruth Kramer and brand consultant Thomas Schacht lived in Denmark for a long time, then moved to Switzerland. But they were still drawn to the north, so they looked for a second home in Hamburg. They found it on the fifth floor of a high-rise bunker.

It's a cold, gray morning as the rows on the plane thin out and everyone heads for the exit and into the passenger bridge. Suddenly an untamed, salty wind pushes into the long tube, an idea of the ocean - we are in Hamburg. And a little later in a place that hangs over the city like a protected lookout: an apartment on the fifth floor of a high bunker in Ottensen, the second home of Ruth Kramer and Thomas Schacht. In a neighborhood that alternates between bourgeois brick buildings and the rough Altona train station: "For us, it's the little Brooklyn of Hamburg," laughs Ruth Kramer, "lots of young people move here, a creative mix, plus the expanse of the Elbe riverbank, along which you can walk forever."

The interior designer and communications expert had spent almost their entire lives in Denmark when, surprising many around them, they decided to move to the Swiss village of Vals a few years ago. There, the two run a small bed and breakfast that nestles between mountains and green meadows on a small river like an island of Scandinavian design. But the north and the sea remained in their thoughts; both had been busy professionally in Hamburg over the years, and so at some point they decided to look for a second home in the Hanseatic city.

Interior designer Ruth Kramer and brand consultant Thomas Schacht found their second home on the fifth floor of a high-rise bunker.

In the stairwell, you can see the raw structure of the original walls particularly clearly.

They found - a high bunker, which at that time stood like an ailing tooth in a row of new crowns and which, since it was a listed building, could not simply be torn out. Kramer and Schacht invested in a project by two young real estate developers to give the bunker a core renovation. "It was wild!" recounts Kramer, "Windows, doors, openings had to be cut out of the thick walls." All of this was done under strict structural specifications; original wooden elements in the stairwell, though dilapidated, were to be preserved at all costs. In the basement, the huge former generator still stands, unused, of course, but restored, "like a little museum." That's exactly what the two were after when they bought the apartment, to preserve the old, sometimes unpleasant face of the bunker. Thus, as the only owners in the entire house, they did not let the walls disappear behind white plaster.

This time-worn building has seen a lot. Built in 1939, the structure was originally intended to serve as a shelter for the female patients of the nearby hospital. But then it was decided to use the bunker as an extension of the hospital, and set up operating rooms and a maternity ward, where newborns and their mothers were safe for the time being. An underground tunnel connected the hospital with its defiant satellite. To mark the bunker accordingly, a large red cross was painted on its roof. When Hamburg was reduced to rubble, the bunker therefore remained intact - the only healthy tooth in a completely destroyed environment. "I like this story a lot," says Thomas Schacht, "it's about a small remaining piece of security in a terrible time."

For the bunker, the couple selected some iconic furniture from the '50s and '60s, a key piece being the gray "Lady" armchair by Cassina, designed by Marco Zanuso in 1951. The design of the sculptural coffee table by Isamu Noguchi was created as early as 1944. Sofa: "Stay" by Gubi.

"After all, every interior starts with the question of how you want to live, what is important to you."

To this day, the feeling of security is immediately tangible as soon as the heavy apartment door slams shut behind you. Wind and rain whip against the windows of the towering building, which lets the storm bounce off it unimpressed. To maintain this character, the residents have incorporated some mediators between past and present; the light switches, for instance, are old-fashioned toggle switches. "In choosing furniture, we focused on designs from the '50s and '60s," Ruth Kramer explains. These are pieces that are closer in time to the year the bunker was built than to the present, but still spiritually from a completely different era.

Many icons are included, that was important to Ruth Kramer and Thomas Schacht; they are signs, as clearly and unambiguously legible as the toggle switches, one should not get lost in the thicket of enigmatic objects: Thus Arne Jacobsen's "Swan Chairs" join Eero Saarinen's "Tulip Table," behind it the "606" shelf that Dieter Rams designed for Vitsœ & Zapf in 1960. While Thomas Schacht prefers to sit here, work in peace and look outside, his wife names Marco Zanuso's "720 Lady" chairs, which are in the living area, as her favorite pieces. "It's seating furniture the way we like it, where a person sits beautifully and doesn't have to hang unworthily."

Thomas Schacht prefers to sit at the round Saarinen table on one of Arne Jacobsen's "Swan Chairs," working and enjoying the view.

The kitchen from Bulthaup was installed to fit perfectly and now acts as a frame for the original substance. This apartment is the only one in which the concrete face of the bunker was left unconcealed; in all the other apartments, the walls were plastered white: "We think it's way cooler this way."

One of those gray Italians overlooks the table nook, kitchen and sleeping area - open sightlines based on the apartment's circular layout. "All furnishings, after all, begin with the question of what's important to you, how you want to live," says Ruth Kramer. "We wanted few restrictions, hardly any doors. Other things, like the washing machine, for example, should disappear." "Functionality is essential for us," adds Schacht, "especially when you don't have an infinite amount of space." The result of these considerations is a kind of wooden cube that stands in the middle of the apartment like a second small bunker. In it are the spacious shower, a separate toilet and another large cabinet in which a wide variety of equipment is hidden. Thus freed from everything disturbing, nothing restricts the view, the various shades of gray of the textiles - each gray feels different, sometimes soft, sometimes brittle - can shine unfiltered against the concrete walls.

And for the Jacobsens and Zanusos of this small world of objects, the stage is thus also set - for a long-term commitment, because Kramer and Schacht like to stick to what they've made their own. "All the furniture is design creations that we've loved for decades and will continue to love. We're very consistent in that regard. We also never really rearrange. At most, we'll replace a chair once in a while if it's getting decrepit." A constancy, like this last man standing of a bunker expresses. Thus, the apartment in concrete becomes more and more a project of preservation and usability. This is another reason why the two residents don't want to leave it empty: "Why shouldn't others be able to enjoy the space when we're not there?" The two have already given themselves an answer to this question - and simply rent out the apartment when they themselves are in Switzerland.

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