Dump the junk, keep it simple: Robert O'Byrnetalks to Carol Mulcahy about her hall

EACH of us, said Chekhov, "is full of too many wheels, screws and valves to permit us to judge one another on a first impression." If that's true of us, how much more is it of our homes and specifically of the foremost room to be seen by all visitors: the entrance hall.

The fundamental problem is this - that a hallway serves no obvious purpose other than acting as a place of transition from the general exterior to the particular interior. Its dimensions often don't suggest any greater function; the average modern entrance hall is barely wide enough to permit two people to stand opposite one another without risking unintended sexual congress.

Think of all those awkward greetings and farewells that have taken place in your hall owing to the narrowness of the space. Length invariably exceeds breadth by proportions of at least three-to-one which only increases the impression this is a passage that should be exited as speedily as possible. It's not a place in which to linger.

The initial response anyone has to our home will be provided by the hall, that compressed little corridor through which we're inclined to scurry, avoiding the pile of junkmail we mean to throw away sooner or later, the shoes kicked off late one night and never since removed, the dry-cleaning waiting to be taken upstairs. All too frequently our hall serves as not just a passageway but also a dumping ground. Thanks goodness none of us believe first impressions count. Until, that is, one steps into a hall as enticing, as elegant, as perfectly-proportioned as that found in Carol Mulcahy's home. Carol, her husband, four children and two dogs moved into the house - an adorable Co Wicklow Regency villa - just days before Christmas 2001. Even from the exterior, it's easy to understand the building's appeal: flanked by sash windows, the door is surrounded by a creeper-drenched, wrought-iron porch under which the earliest residents must have passed in muslin gowns familiar to us from dozens of Jane Austen adaptations.

Push open that door and you step into a hall that is anything but narrow or cramped or poky. On the contrary, it's wide and spacious and lit by a series of old glass panels set high into a facing wall where they were placed by the house's original builder and left unaltered ever since.

The villa is built on sloping ground, meaning the staircase runs down rather than up and this has the effect of increasing the sense of space and airiness since there's no bulky structure ascending a wall.

The stairs' woodwork used to be stained but Carol had them painted, thereby further enhancing the hall's overall lightness.

While the cornices were in good condition and needed hardly any repair, the old floorboards were in a terrible state and so patched in places with chipboard that they had to go, replaced by oiled French oak. Three of the walls are painted a light putty shade courtesy of Farrow & Ball but that directly facing the door has instead been covered with a light, paisley-style paper from Ralph Lauren; this is the kind of clever decorative statement that gives a room quiet distinction.

So too does the truly lovely old crystal-drop chandelier that Carol and her family inherited with the house, courtesy of its considerate previous owners. Wisely she's let the room speak for itself and kept furnishings to a minimum.

There's a handsome side table that dates from the same period as the house. It came from an auction at Adam's of Blackrock while the gilt-framed mirror above was another sale find at Mullen's. A pair of lamps were picked up at Cottonwood in Greystones and between them stands an old painted jardiniere. And other than an oil of Sorrento Terrace, Dalkey by Gerard Byrne suspended above the stairs, that's it.

But delightful though all this may be, only when leaving is it possible to relish the hall's finest feature - the doorframe. At its furthest extremes, this features two deep recesses probably designed to hold folding shutters but now lined with shelves perfect for carrying family photographs and other mementoes.

Then come a pair of slender, paned windows before finally the door itself, solid, handsome and exuding assured reliability thanks to its heavy mahogany and brass lock that, like so much else about the place, is some two centuries old. Passing through the door and back under the wrought-iron porch one realises the paradox of Carol Mulcahy's hall: its final impression proves to be the most profound.

The hall: six essentials

1Try to think of your hall as another room, not just a point of transit, and plan its decoration accordingly. Remember, it's the first part of your home to be seen by visitors

2Should the space be narrow (as most halls are) make it look bigger with mirrors - why not a pair facing each other on opposite walls?

3Be adventurous in your colour scheme, particularly if the hall is small or dark

4Please, no coat racks - there are few more dispiriting sights than an ancient coat mouldering limply on a hook

5Your hall floor will take more punishment than any other room If it's not already covered in wood boards or tiles, choose something hard-wearing

6Don't treat your hall as a dumping ground. Clear out that junk now