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Now, as we know, the French have a long and proud history in the decorative arts – they virtually invented the idiom – but, more than any other, there’s one style that encapsulates le style Francais. You might know it as Art Deco. The French called it Moderne. Ah, Art Deco. Just mention it and images of sleek ocean liners, peopled by impossibly beautiful characters wearing Cartier jewels and sipping Manhattan cocktails spring to mind. Or maybe it’s the futuristic styling of Max Sterm’s Metropolis or even the gaudy delights of the Odeon cinema – those streamlined and chrome-plated ‘peoples’ palaces’ that brought Hollywood glamour to the depression-ravaged masses of the 1930s. Art Deco emerged as a style for the new century and an ever-changing, fast-paced world of motor cars, air travel, flappers, and syncopated jazz. It’s the style of the Chrysler building, of the Zigfeld Follies and, as it happens, Victoria Coach Station; an intoxicating mix that continues to beguile us as much as it did in the Roaring Twenties.
Has there ever been a style more luxurious, glamorous, more imitated and, perhaps, less understood? Let’s start with the name. ‘Art Deco’ was actually only first coined in the late 1960s as a sort of two-hander to Art Nouveau which had preceded it. Also, far from being a single recognisable style, there were, in fact, many different strands, depending on when and where it popped up.
Italy, Sweden and, of course, America all had their own particular ‘takes’ on it. But nowhere did the style emerge more coherently than in France. Many books will tell you that Art Deco first surfaced at the Exposition Internationale des Arts Decoratifs et Industriels Modernes, the world expo held in Paris in 1925. Except that it didn’t. The Moderne style actually began to appear in France much earlier, around 1910 and was well into its stride by the time of the exhibition.
So, having de-bunked a couple of myths, let’s look at what is it that makes French Art Deco, sorry, Moderne, so distinctive. It’s all down to time and place. The French interpretation of the style was extremely luxurious, relying on rare and exotic materials like Macassar, ebony, lacquer, shagreen and mother-of-pearl, to give a sheen of glamour. As the centre of the world’s luxury goods market, Parisian designers were well-placed to take advantage of the readiness of these materials and could also draw on the world-leading expertise that Parisian craftsmen had in working them.
So much for place, as for time, le Style Moderne sought inspiration not from the modern industrial world, instead, it looked back in time to the world of Marie Antoinette and the French aristocracy. For a style so synonymous with the twentieth century, the French Moderne style is firmly rooted in the grand traditions of the 18th Century ancien régime – the political and social system of France before the revolution of 1789 – and its time-honoured traditions of apprenticeship and guild training.
During the 18th Century, France established itself in the forefront of the luxury trades, producing furniture, porcelain, glass, metalwork and textiles of unsurpassed refinement and elegance with Paris becoming the style capital of the western world. The ebenistes of Paris became the acknowledged masters of furniture making in Europe, supplying the homes and chateaux of the French court and aristocracy.
Some of the most beautiful and refined furniture ever made, displaying the highest level of artistic and technical ability, was created in Paris during the eighteenth century. Rather than breaking with tradition, the great designers of the 1920s saw themselves as inheritors of a grand tradition stretching back over two centuries. Tradition, however, was not the only source of inspiration. So too were the exotic, avant-garde trends in the fine arts and fashion. The vogue for exoticism developed following the arrival in Paris of the Russian impresario Sergei Diaghilev and his dance troupe, the Ballets Russes, in 1909, with its wildly atmospheric and outré productions. Léon Bakst’s design for Schéhérezade (1910), for example, featured lavish orientalist sets and costumes. The unexpected colour combinations, vivid patterns and louche furnishings – billowing curtains, low-slung divans, piles of tasselled pillows – were immediately imitated in stylish interiors by Paris artist-decorators.
Paris in the 1920s had an abundance of places where objects in the Moderne style were sold and displayed, mostly galleries, showrooms and shops on the more voguish Right Bank of the city centre. What were called Ensemblier showrooms, such as those of Emille-Jacques Ruhlmann, Süe et Mare and Martine, not only displayed individual pieces for sale but presented fully furnished interiors that suggested the range of what the ensemblier could produce on commission. At the more accessible end of the market, the four big Paris department stores established specialised decorating departments and many speciality shops, including Jean Luce, La Crémaillère and Le Grand Dépôt, which sold a wide range of glass, ceramics, linens and other utilitarian and decorative goods. It was as if Moderne had entered the DNA of the French capital.
For those in search of the Moderne style, Paris is, of course, a mere hop and skip over the channel but for a taste of the style that’s a little closer to home, Eltham Palace near Greenwich is a capsule of 1930s Parisian-inspired sophistication. Stephen and Virginia Courtauld of the eponymous textiles dynasty bought Eltham with its semi-ruined medieval Great Hall, moat and bridge, and rebuilt it as a dazzlingly sophisticated semi-rural hideaway. The saloon is a vast Moderne interior, lined with Australian black bean wood panelling, topped with a dome and finished off with a vast, circular, abstract carpet, the effect is like entering the First Class Lounge of a 1930s liner. Not that everyone felt that at the time: one editorial in The Times likened it to a cigarette factory.
The stock market crash of 1929 saw the optimism of the 1920s gradually decline. By the mid-1930s, Art Deco was being derided as a gaudy, false image of luxury. Despite its demise, however, Art Deco made a fundamental impact on subsequent design. Art Deco's widespread application and enduring influence prove that its appeal is based on more than visual allure alone.
Vive la France!
Click here to visit our lookbook 'Iconic Geometry' for our take on an Art Deco inspired interior.
Or click here to shop our full collection of Art Deco pieces.
From the sun-soaked parasols of the Amalfi coast to crumpled sweetshop bags on the English Riviera, stripes are everywhere. They always have been, in various forms, but their presence feels particularly loud right now.
Perhaps it's because we crave their unabashed joy in the midst of gloomy national and international developments, or because we’ve been busy whole-heartedly embracing summer after years of restriction. Whatever the reason, manifestations of this versatile pattern range from classic to retro.
Stripes have not always stood for beauty and joy, though. During medieval Europe, they actually signified an outcast and those condemned to wear stripes included hangmen and court jesters. This was mostly down to a bible passage which dictated: “You will not wear upon yourself a garment that is made of two.” Christians interpreted this to mean clothing of two contrasting colours. Because of their simple and obvious nature, stripes drew attention and demonstrated 'otherness.' To this day, prisoners around the world wear stripy uniforms to hinder their chances of escaping unnoticed.
The turning point for the pattern came at the end of the 18th Century. Tastemakers were exhausted by the heavily ornate rococo and chinoiserie styles that had dominated up until then. With the enlightenment came a countermovement - neoclassicism - and with neoclassicism came a newfound love for stripes. Stripes now stood for simple elegance and a sense of order that stemmed from classical architecture.
This was the era of the Regency stripe - a wide stripe in one colour flanked by two or more narrower ones in a contrasting shade. Still popular today, this classic stripe works anywhere from clothing to upholstery. Across the channel, French seamen wore woven shirts featuring 21 navy stripes - one for each of Napoleon’s victories. This classic nautical stripe would later inspire the iconic Breton shirt, and so begun fashion’s love affair with the pattern.
Fast forward to the 1920s and stripes were now appearing on all sorts of clothing; suits and ties, cricket and rowing blazers, and even candy-striped swimwear. Once the 20th Century had weathered two world wars, no advert for the seaside was complete without a swimsuit bearing the pattern.
It wasn't just fashion that started to harness the power of stripes, but hospitality too. Wide ‘awning stripes’ get their name from the shops and restaurants that sported them, becoming synonymous with a warm welcome. Throughout history, stripes have offered a joyous antidote.
The stripe has been through many guises, and not all of them were purely driven by aesthetic. Ticking refers to the dense woven cloth that once covered mattresses, designed to protect you from harsh fillings like straw and horsehair. The cloth featured a uniform pattern of wide and narrow stripes, usually in a muted palette of black, blue or red.
Despite its humble origins, mattress ticking has had a monumental ripple effect in the design world. Fabric houses from Chelsea Textiles to Colefax & Fowler have released their own versions, while other traders specialise in original antique cloths.
Indeed, ticking stripes have become a distinctive marker of English country house style, where they decorate anything from sofas to valances. Ticking is a shining example of how stripes can feel refined, with a timeless appeal that weathers passing trends.
Striped cloth dates back to the ancient Egyptians, making it one of the oldest patterns on record. The wildly different ways we've embraced them over the centuries goes to show just how versatile they are. This simple pattern is the building block of plaids and checks, as well as geometric designs.
When we think of stripes in interiors, fresh nautical schemes often spring to mind. Certainly, lots of striped fabric instantly brings a relaxed beach house feel to a garden room or shepherd’s hut. Outside, too, nothing evokes nostalgia quite like a stripy deckchair or parasol.
But stripes do have their place in more traditional environments as well. After all, they first came to the fore in opulent French drawing rooms and classic English country houses. Upholstery fabric is perhaps the most obvious use, and one that allows a lot of room for personal interpretation. A classic Howard & Sons sofa or armchair, for example, remains understated and elegant with a Regency stripe fabric, or gets a heady lift with a bright awning stripe.
Stripes don’t have to be the only pattern in a room, either. In fact, they layer beautifully with fluid, ornate patterns like toile de jouy. A simply striped sofa in front of a chinoiserie wallpaper, or a striped Swedish flatweave in amongst chintzy upholstery, is the sort of bold decorating that really pays off. Statement walls painted with lemon yellow stripes, or a more traditional striped wallpaper, can transform the feel of a room.
If you’re not quite ready to paint candy stripes across an entire wall, the pattern works just as well in small doses. Striped valances and headboards bring a light-hearted joyfulness to the bedroom setting without feeling overwhelming, for instance. Scatter cushions have the same effect, offering a good opportunity to blend different types of stripe in one setting.
Even if an interior appears to have no stripes at all, a closer look often reveals their powerful presence. For instance, a simple border around an otherwise plain rug draws the rest of the room in - conversing with other geometry in the room to create a considered feel. Lampshades in bright, contrasting stripes, or with subtler top and tail trims, can add a little or a lot of this chic pattern to a space.
When it comes to this ubiquitous pattern, no home or personal style is off-limits. With autumn well on its way, look to the humble stripe to keep the joy of balmy summer days alive.
Shop the look, visit our lookbook 'For the love of stripes'.
We talk to ‘Antiques Roadshow’ expert Chris Yeo about collecting Mid-Century glass. He says ‘dancing with light and alive with colour, Mid-Century glass makes a bold statement, just try not to get too hooked’.
When I tell people I work in antiques the question I’m invariably asked (after “When do you hope to get a real job?”) is “What do you collect?” and my answer is absolutely nothing. Although I’ve lived, eaten and breathed antiques since childhood the idea of amassing a collection of any one thing or group of things has never held any appeal. With one exception, that is.
Roughly twenty years ago, on a typical Saturday morning mooch around an antiques market (remember them?), I came across something that stopped me in my tracks. It was a glass vase, a sleek, weighty number in rich shades of blue and turquoise. It was love at first sight and, of course, I bought it. About a month later I bought another piece of glass, shortly followed by another and another – you get the picture.
For the next few years, I hoovered up every piece of studio glass I could find. It was a labour of love and an obsession which bordered on an addiction. Put a piece of studio glass in front of me and I would find it near impossible to ‘just say no’. I won’t be too hard on my younger self. There is, after all, something undeniably seductive about mid-century art glass: a perfect marriage of art, craft and design that melts the hearts of even the most ardent minimalists. Richly coloured and beautifully made, fine quality glass introduces just the right note of luxury, colour and sophistication into any interior.
The Europe that emerged from the Second World War was a grey and dismal place. War-time shortages and rationing of “luxury goods” meant that people had been starved of colour for years. There was a huge demand for anything bright, fresh and modern, especially among young people setting up home for the first time. Ceramics, textiles and wallpaper manufacturers all ramped up the colour quota but nowhere was this appetite for colour better nourished than amongst makers of studio glass. And, when it came to glass, no one understood colour better than the Italians.
Italian design came of age in the post-war years with a welter of colourful designs in both glass and plastic, materials which share the same malleable qualities. The magical process of transforming a bubble of molten glass into a vessel or piece of sculpture is a test of skill and artistry but the Italians took up the challenge with gusto and, of course, style. Highly individualistic designers celebrated colour for its own sake, applying it in ever more bold and dramatic combinations. Italian glass is more properly Venetian glass. Venice has always been the heart of the Italian glassmaking industry with a history of glass-blowing unparalleled anywhere else in the world. From the thirteenth century onwards Venice had held a monopoly on glassmaking in Europe, and its products—often extravagantly coloured, enamelled, and gilded—were treasured luxuries. Originally, Venetian glass was made - as you would imagine - in Venice, but the workshops were moved to the small lagoon island of Murano in 1291, in part because their kilns constituted a fire hazard to the city, but also to keep the glassmaking process a secret by isolating the makers on their own well-guarded island.
Now, I think it’s fair to say that for many of us our idea of Murano glass will have been “coloured” by a trip to Venice. You’ll have done the circuit of St Marks, paid through the nose for a coffee and then, along with ten thousand others, you will have been funnelled off into the narrow alleyways that lead off the square. You shuffle along passed shop after shop – each one dedicated to relieving you of as much money as possible - crammed with all manner of gaudy clowns, fish, dolphins and more Mickey Mouse figures than even Disneyland would want - all sold under the banner “Murano”. If this has been your only encounter with Italian glass you’d be forgiven for wanting it to stay that way but there really is so much more to Murano.
From the 13th to the 18th century Murano glass was one of the wonders of the world with an unrivalled reputation for innovation, its glassmakers having developed, among other things, ways of incorporating threads of gold into their creations and techniques for the famous millefiori (multicoloured) and lattimo (milk) glass. Amongst the myriad workshops that make up the Murano glass industry the most highly regarded and arguably the best known is Venini.
The firm was founded in the early 1920s when an enterprising Milanese lawyer, Paolo Venini, established a new glass company on the island with a Venetian antiques dealer, Giacomo Cappelin. Their breakthrough innovation was to copy the French fashion industry’s tradition of appointing an artistic director to create new designs and then drive them forwards. This was a stroke of genius which instantly put Venini at the forefront of fashion. The firm collaborated with artists who transferred their skills from canvas to glass, combining bright vibrant colour with flair and confidence that’s the very essence of Italian style. As a strategy, it took glassmaking to new heights of excellence and kick-started the Italian studio glass movement.
By the early 1930s, Venini was attracting the cream of Italian designers including Carlo Scarpa, Gio Ponti and Tyra Lundgren. The post-war years were Murano’s most dazzling and creative period. With its bold palette, Italian glass of the 1950s and ‘60s is instantly recognisable. Shapes have an easy asymmetry and a looseness of form reminiscent of folded fabric. In fact, one of the most popular shapes was the ‘fazaletto’ or ‘folded-handkerchief’ vases first made by Venini in the 1940s.
With its vibrant colour combinations and top-quality design credentials, the Italians dominated the glass scene but they weren’t the only nation on the colour spectrum. In the UK the prestigious London-based firm of Whitefriars had been making glass since the 17th century and had a centuries-old reputation for restrained and elegant glassware but in the 1950s its fortunes changed when, like Venini, it engaged the services of an artistic director, Geoffrey Baxter (1912-95).
Baxter was a young graduate fresh from the Royal College of Art, at that time a powerhouse of ideas about art and design. At Whitefriars, Baxter took the forms of Scandinavian glass – thickly-walled, with curving organic shapes and highly sculptural vessels – but, unlike the Nordic versions which used either clear glass or subtle, muted shades – Baxter used bright, rich colours to create something youthful and very British. Colourful things were also coming from behind the Iron Curtain.
In Czechoslovakia, the glass industry was nationalised in 1948 and continued the centuries-old tradition of glassmaking in the Bohemian region. Bohemian glass had a reputation for excellence and the new Communist government did not deem glass to be an art form that was ideologically threatening, meaning that designers could work largely free of official control. This resulted in the creation of highly innovative modern designs that updated traditional methods of glassmaking and put Czech glass on par with the best that Italy had to offer.
Following on from its 1950s heyday, studio glass is once again riding the crest of a wave of popularity. If you’ve never thought of having glass on display, think again: the allure of light playing on coloured glass can be just as compelling as a strikingly painted canvas. That said, some people remain a little nervous about living with glass – “It’ll get knocked over and smashed!” Truth is, most glass is more robust than you think and, so long as you’re not flinging it against the wall, it’s no less durable than pottery.
Striking forms and colours make the piece a work of art in its own right and a real talking point. Art glass, displayed as a single statement piece or grouped together, brings warmth and colour to an interior as effectively as any painting and can also be a good way of introducing an accent colour into a room scheme.
The sinuous, organic shapes and jewel-like hues so beloved of mid-century glass artists work as a counterpoint to the tailored interiors of today. Arranging collections of glass in groupings of similar colours and shapes create a strong visual impact.
Remember, when it comes to glass, less is always more, don’t clutter shelves and tabletops with pieces. Instead, give each one space to breathe. You’ll find your art glass a source of inspiration as well as beauty.
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Pergolas, obelisks, and arches make for wonderful focal points in the garden. What could be better than having a rose or clematis scrambling all over them? Regardless of trends, classic garden climbers look as good today as they did 100 years ago. Nicholsons' garden designer Will Beaumont shares his advice on choosing vintage climbers.
This article was previously featured on nicholsonsgb.com.
Nothing speaks of a quintessentially English garden more than a beautiful wisteria or a climbing rose. Climbers are a huge asset to any garden, yet they are often under-represented in garden design. They provide cover, they flower, they are scented, and they attract wildlife. These plants will add height and texture to an outdoor space and will easily cover a bare wall, a fence, or a building. Climbers have a wonderful ability to soften harsh surfaces and bring colour to otherwise dull spaces. They are particularly useful if you have limited border space, but do have some vertical surfaces that are in need of inspiration. Many climbers are well-suited to growing in containers for brightening up a terrace or other areas where planting directly into the ground is not possible.
Nine iconic vintage climbers to consider using in your garden:
Roses have always been a classic choice for the garden. There are a vast number of rose varieties, all with a sizeable array of properties and catering to a spectrum of tastes. Roses are always a fantastic choice for pergolas and can often spruce up a timber structure. These plants will always lift a space's visual impact from lacklustre to spectacular. Some popular choices include ‘Gertrude Jekyll’ for a vibrant injection of pink and ‘Iceburg’ for a cool white haze. Their aesthetic is particularly effective in a more formal setting, especially against a backdrop of evergreen hedging or topiary.
There are many varieties of clematis. Some grow rigorously, whilst others are better suited for pots and containers. Due to the nature of the larger varieties of clematis, their structure can be fairly dense. This is an advantage for growing this climber against screening or fencing, to soften less subtle features. These plants are another versatile species that cater to a range of needs and tastes. They are particularly effective on ornamental arches, providing a spot of colour and vegetation without totally engulfing the structure. If you are planning on growing clematis over an arch, make sure you choose a variety that is suitable for this purpose.
Climbing hydrangeas can tolerate more shaded conditions and will thrive in sheltered and exposed locations alike. Being in shade works to the plant’s advantage, as the plumes of white flowers will make a beautiful contrast with darker surroundings. This is the perfect climber for bringing gloomier areas to life! A note of caution: climbing hydrangeas tend to grow densely and spread far, so be prepared for total coverage of whatever you grow this against!
Wisteria is a classic feature in British postcard-perfect villages and is often spotted adorning the front of older cottages. The aciniform flowers contrast beautifully against the common backdrop of sandstone found in many rural areas. The robust often contorted structure of the stem adds charm and character to any property. This plant thrives in direct sunlight which means that when spring comes around and their racemes come into bloom, the forms radiate rich colours of lilac, purple and pink.
Contrary to the title, one could argue against the ‘vintage’ classification of star jasmine. It is sometimes considered a more contemporary plant due to its rising popularity in recent times. However, jasmine has an extremely versatile aesthetic and works well in both modern and classic settings. This plant's main attraction, beauty aside, is its intoxicating scent and it is ideal near a terrace or seating area. If you are a wildlife lover, it has the added bonus of being extremely popular with bees and butterflies. Furthermore, jasmine is a highly manageable plant and perfect for smaller gardens.
Grapes can be traced in Britain all the way back to the Roman occupation. There are often a great number of misconceptions about the process of growing grapevines and it is not as complicated as one may think. In reality, provided certain conditions are met, it can be relatively straightforward- especially if you live in the south of the country. Well-drained soil, direct sunlight and occasional maintenance are all that is required to grow a healthy vine. Moreover, the outcome completely outweighs the effort if you consider the potential visual impact. Picture creeping vines draped over a veranda or a dining area. Grapevines evoke romantic imagery and will create a wonderfully authentic atmosphere in a garden.
All of the climbers on this list grow pretty flowers, which attract insects, but what about other wildlife? Pyracantha’s foliage bears deep red or fiery orange berries (depending on the chosen variety). These berries provide much-desired sustenance for birds and other animals looking to survive the winter months. This species can be trained up walls and will show an effective display of colour across all seasons. You can expect summer blooms, autumn berries and green foliage across the colder months.
Honeysuckles (Lonicera periclymenum) are native to Britain and are another fantastic option for attracting wildlife. Their trumpet-like flowers emit a sweet floral scent which is irresistible to many insects. Again, this species also grows berries which means that it’s a perfect plant for anyone looking to increase the ecological value of their garden.
Sweet peas are a charming addition to any border during the summer months. Mix and match their pastel colours to create a rich palette of elegant tones. We recommend a regimen of pruning and harvesting the flowers. This will lengthen the blooming period and ensure you get the most out of this plant. These flowers are often abundant in the summer and make a stunning, fragrant feature in vases indoors. They also look striking in a potager, winding around a stylish obelisk frame, or in a rustic hazel tripod.
Nicholsons' provide a range of professional services, including garden design, garden construction, garden maintenance, forestry and agriculture. They are based on a 23-acre site in North Aston, and also offer retail services including Rosara Outdoor Style and their Plant Centre.
Read all of our gardening articles here.
The relationship between humankind and our fellow species has long influenced design. Lion’s paw feet adorn furniture from a range of historical periods. These charming feet are not only decorative but also full of symbolism.
The lion’s symbolic power has resonated with countless generations of royalty and aristocracy. Since the ancient world, humans have revered the lion as a symbol of strength, majesty, courage, and fortitude.
The earliest examples of paw feet on furniture survive from ancient Egyptian tombs. The Egyptians believed that strength could be conveyed from the animal represented on a chair to the person sitting in it. As a result, they raised a lion’s paw on a plinth base. This ‘drum base’ separated the paw from the dirty floor so that a seamless transfer of power could occur.
Lion iconography permeated throughout the ancient world, with the Assyrians, Greeks, and Romans all following suit. The Romans commonly terminated a single-based table with a lion’s leg and paw feet, hence they acquired the name monopodium foot. Of course, there's an irony in the fact that Roman emperors commonly kept these majestic beasts in captivity or used them for entertainment.
It was these classical beginnings that saw lion’s paw feet appear again and again from the Renaissance onwards, as designers embraced antiquity.
Different periods have favoured various animal feet according to their design aims. We see the prolific ball and claw feet, pad feet, and hoof feet at different points. But the distinctive lion’s paw has been revived particularly extensively, and this popularity is worth exploring.
During the 18th Century, a groundswell against the heavy and imposing furniture of William and Mary prompted a change. In the Queen Anne period, furniture became far more graceful and refined. An interest in classical themes naturally emerged and, because of the prominence of animalistic imagery in antiquity, it wasn’t long before animal feet appeared on English furniture.
Excellence in cabinet-making during the Georgian period did great justice to the lion’s paw foot. Chippendale himself was a great fan of terminating chairs and other pieces with the monopodium foot. The transition between the Georgian and Regency period, when furniture became larger and more extravagant, demonstrates the versatility of the lion’s paw.
The Regency was an eclectic melting pot of influences and ideals. The Prince Regent oversaw a period of design that combined antiquity with new exotic timbers and oriental influences. And yet, despite this influx of new styles, the lion’s paw survived. In fact, the Regency represents its heyday in English furniture.
Paw feet were a natural accent for the extravagant furniture that decked out Regency homes. Regency designers sought to revive Greco-Roman models in a more exact manner than ever before. They even produced tripod stands and tables in the ancient Roman style, with the classic monopodium foot.
In particular, one of the most well-known Regency designers, Thomas Hope, wholeheartedly embraced the lion's paw. Inspired by his Grand Tour travels, he terminated everything from vases to cabinets with lion's paw feet.
The lion’s intrinsic qualities of strength and majesty, and more controversially pride and wrath, saw it adopted again and again by leaders. Most notably, French Empire furniture portrays lion’s paw feet on a majority of pieces. During the Empire, Napoleon imposed a near-total centralisation of the arts. His designers made furniture that was large and simple- reflecting the supposed dignity of his reign- but adorned with symbolic motifs.
Ormolu mounts referenced antiquity and the lion's paw adorned the bottom of all sorts of pieces, often gilded for impact. For Napoleon, the lion was an obvious choice. His grip on power was tenuous and based entirely on military victories, so he channelled the power of the king of beasts just as his Egyptian ancestors had.
As we have seen, the lion’s paw survived numerous periods and its presence spread far and wide. But this does not mean we see the same paw again and again. In fact, the monopodium foot changed dramatically over the centuries. We see primitive versions in early examples, where knowledge of the actual anatomy of the lion was often limited. In simpler countryside furniture, the foot is also carved in low relief and you may not notice the paws until closer inspection.
At the other end of the scale, as cabinet-making techniques advanced, lion's paws developed life-like clarity. As a result, paws emphasised individual toes and sometimes even had claws. Often, cabriole legs blend seamlessly into the paw and create the impression of an entire leg. In other examples, you simply see a lion’s paws projecting from the bottom of a piece of case furniture. The claws were sometimes shown gripping a ball, as the prolific ball and claw foot merged with the lion's paw.
The lion’s paw generally became bigger and more imposing over time, reflecting growing empires and increasing skill.
Paw feet are full of history and symbolic might. Not only did they have a huge presence in French and English furniture, but also throughout Europe and in Asia. These feet were so appealing that they even appear on sleek Mid Century furniture designed by the likes of Maison Jansen.
Paw feet give a piece of furniture a finished feel and demonstrate skilled cabinet-making. They are one of the many fantastic features that elevate antique furniture above any modern examples. Browse all the lion's paw feet in our collection here.
The key to any beautiful border is a mixture of evergreen plants and vivacious colourful flora. Horticultural expert Ruby Simpson, from Nicholsons, talks us through her favourite colour palette.
This article was previously featured on nicholsonsgb.com.
The key to a successful plant palette is planning. By successful, we mean it's got to deliver in all seasons and reach its zenith in the summer. If you buy one or two plants each time you pop to the local garden centre, without pre-planning, it will be much harder to achieve a cohesive scheme that you love. When it comes to a border, I always find it’s best to start by establishing a colour palette that excites you. A consistent favourite of mine is a mixture of deep purples, dark pinks, and rusty oranges.
Once you have chosen a colour scheme, start by selecting evergreen plants to create your structure. These plants will still be performing in the middle of winter and into spring before everything else wakes up again!
My favourite evergreen plants for smaller herbaceous borders are Hebe rakaiensis and Euphorbia wulfenii. These are both unique-looking evergreen plants. You can lightly clip the Hebe so it keeps a neater shape if that’s what you prefer, and either keep the white flowers or trim them off.
Depending on the size of your border, you can leave the Euphorbia wulfenii to its own devices or cut it back to keep the size down. You may need to wear gloves when trimming the Euphorbia, as the white sap can sometimes cause skin irritation. These evergreens are low maintenance and will grow into a lovely, plump domed shape. I personally prefer this to the tight-clipped topiary look, and their versatility means they suit a range of gardens.
Once the back of the border has been chosen, the fun bit can begin – the colourful flowers! For purples, I love Agastache ‘Violet Vision’, Iris ‘Sable’, Lavender angustifolia and Salvia ‘Caradonna’. My favourite dark pinks are Knautia macedonica, Astrantia ‘Claret’ and Rosa ‘Munstead Wood’ (which also has the most beautiful scent). Vibrant oranges can be found in Geum ‘Princess Juliana,' which flowers heavily for weeks! Then there is Helenium ‘Moerheim Beauty,' which is such a deep orange it can be almost red and has lots of colour variation from one flower to the next.
After you have chosen your evergreen structure and colour scheme, it's time to add some texture. You could achieve this through plants with interesting foliage, but I personally like to add a summery prairie feel with grasses. Stipa tennuissima has the softest, fluffiest texture, so I always try to squeeze a bit of that in – it just invites you to run your fingers through it whenever you walk past. Another grass I favour is Anemanthele lessoniana. This one will add to the rusty colours in the palette, but also has the bonus of being semi-evergreen (which is almost entirely evergreen in the current climate, unless you have a very exposed garden).
Adding some bulbs to the scheme will really set the border off. Allium ‘Purple Sensation' and Tulipa ‘Recreado’ are beautiful purple specimens. Crocosmia ‘Venus’ and Tulipa ‘Princess Irene’ add another shot of orange and Allium sphaerocephalon has a lovely dark pink colour and looks beautiful when planted through grasses. These bulbs can be purchased in the late summer and autumn to plant as bulbs, or you can often buy them ‘in-the-green’ in pots in the spring, although this tends to be a more expensive option.
For each planting stage, make sure you check the height and spread of each plant. Knowing the height will allow you to place smaller plants where they won’t be obscured by taller ones in the scheme. Knowing the spread will highlight any plants that might take up more space than others. If there is a ‘back’ to the border, like a wall, you are better off putting taller plants there and smaller ones at the front. Allow for a bit of variation in the middle so it doesn’t look too regimented.
If your border is on the edge of a terrace and has paving on one side and lawn on the other, keep taller plants away from the edges and dotted through the middle of the border. You will view them from every angle, so you can get away with mixing sizes in the middle of the bed.
Everything looks better in the end if you plan it out first, even if it takes longer. Remember to always plant in groups of odd numbers as it’s much more pleasing to the eye. So, there you have it- my favourite herbaceous border scheme.
Nicholsons' design studio has over 20 years of experience designing gardens. Ever since Managing Director, Liz Nicholson, founded the studio, the team have produced award-winning gardens which celebrate the hidden potential of every landscape. Every design is tailored to meet the clients' personal expectations, and the result is truly unique and bespoke. They are best known for their work on manor houses, country estates, heritage properties and Oxford townhouses for private clients.
Read more of our gardening articles here.
2020 has been the year of staying at home. Endless duvet days can get a bit wearing, but not if you turn your bedroom into your favourite room in the house...
“Of all the rooms in the house, your bedroom is yours.”
American interior decorator, Dorothy Draper, was certainly onto something when she pointed out the personal significance of the bedroom. And yet, this room is so often an afterthought when it comes to interior design.
When redesigning a house and choosing antiques, entertaining rooms are often the focus. Top of your list might be the living room, dining room, or conservatory space. But your bedroom deserves the same level of care and attention, if not more, especially as we approach the winter months. Getting a good night's sleep has never been so important, and the right bedroom design is conducive to this.
Looking back through the history archives, this room was once held in much higher esteem. You need only look at this crown canopy to see how extravagant the four-poster bed once was. The bedroom acted as a public stage for crucial life events, including births, weddings, business, and death. In Tudor England, queens held their own court in the bedchamber surrounded by their ladies-in-waiting. Later on, Queen Anne would even commission and design her own extravagant deathbed.
Perhaps nowadays life does not necessitate this level of drama, but you can still be a little indulgent when it comes to decorating your bedroom.
Georgian England brought about changes to the house structure and the layout of interiors, leading the bedroom to become much more of a self-contained space. This sense of privacy has increased over time, and today it is somewhere we can retreat to and feel we can be our truest selves. In such a tumultuous year, filled with uncertainty and worry, the bedroom should offer a haven of sorts.
Crucially, the bedroom must reflect your personality. Whether your taste is ornate and palatial, or you prefer to embody the relaxed French farmhouse style, express yourself through your bedroom design.
The bedroom is a space for peace, tranquillity, and reflection. Antiques and pieces from the past can make us feel more rooted, which is especially important in the bedroom.
I’ve touched on the pivotal role of this room throughout history, so luckily there is an abundance of antique furnishings to help bring your boudoir to life. Symmetry is important for the overall aesthetic and sense of calm. This is where you relax and restore yourself, so avoid anything jarring.
As with any room, there has to be a balance between decorative accents and pragmatic furniture. Beautiful antiques will often allow you to combine the two.
It's easy to look at a beautiful bedroom design and find yourself wondering: but where is all the... stuff?
Storage pieces are key to keeping any room in order and make for useful, decorative bedroom pieces. The options are truly endless: wardrobes, commodes, armoires, chests, and trunks hold all the answers to your troubles.
For a luxurious and feminine feel, look for bombe or serpentine commodes for storing your clothes and other bits. A chest or a trunk at the end of a bed, or an ottoman with storage, is a tradition that still appeals today. These are perfect for storing blankets and sheets, whilst forming a pretty feature.
Coordinated bedside tables are important to the overall symmetry and cohesion of the room. Serving a purpose as old as time, you're bound to find tables that suit your style- whether that's Louis XV grandeur or Mid-Century hip.
Don't just focus on your design needs, but also your desires. Comfort is key but it doesn't have to come at the cost of expressing your personal style. The 20th Century provides ample inspiration for expressive bedroom design. The economic boom of the 1920s, swiftly followed by the Hollywood Regency style, ushered in a new era of glamorous bedrooms.
Create the Hollywood look with beautiful crested mirrors, opulent lighting, contemporary art, and the perfect dressing table. Folding screens are a wonderful option for bringing a little vintage style into the bedroom, and can even make for an innovative headboard. Upholstered chairs have always been a stalwart of bedroom design and this comfort can be taken one step further with a daybed or sofa.
If you're seeking a more traditional and muted bedroom, consider a charming cheval mirror for all your dressing needs. Pair with a mannequin or a valet stand to create your very own dressing room. Lithographs and herbariums make for calming wall decoration.
Textiles are the easiest way to inject a little vibrancy into the bedroom, without it feeling too overwhelming. Surround yourself with your favourite colours and patterns, through our wall hangings, headboards, and rugs.
It's tempting to save your favourite things for communal spaces in the home, but it is most important that they are enjoyed by you. Sculpture, vases, and other display pieces can help you realise your boudoir dream.
Softly, softly. Creating a tranquil boudoir relies on the right antique lighting. This depends on how much space you have; if you are decorating a small room then wall lights or sconces are a savvy solution. Beautiful symmetry comes from matching lamps with gorgeous shades to each bedside table.
A central, overhead light draws a room together. If opulence is your watchword, don’t shy away from a chandelier; this is your space and an opportunity to express yourself. More lowkey, industrial style pendant lights create a cool loft atmosphere in a bedroom.
Whatever your style, the key is to create a welcoming and comforting space through plenty of soft light sources. Choose from the many different options in our collection, including floor lamps, wall lights, and lanterns.
Lorfords Antiques is here for all your interior design needs, with all of our bedroom pieces in one place here. Lorfords Created offers bespoke upholstery so that your boudoir can come to life through fabrics of your own choice.
If you're spoilt for choice, our lookbook "Boudoir of Dreams" is a great place to start.
When rumours of an impending lockdown were circulating back in March, office workers everywhere were hauling technical equipment home. As restrictions ease, it seems that the option to work from home will be part of our lives for the foreseeable future. Spending time curating your perfect home office is well worth it, for the sake of comfort and style.
Office life has been ingrained into modern society for decades and is a part of our culture. However, prior to the industrial revolution it was the norm to work from home. Humanity has always had some version of this concept, from medieval merchants operating from home, to women in post-World War II Britain who began the industry of in-home sales.
Indeed, working life was redefined by the success of Brownie Wise’s Patio Parties in the 1940s and 50s. Working in sales for Stanley Home, Brownie saw an opportunity for selling Tupperware by bringing women together in a social capacity.
There is a plethora of antique furnishings dedicated to working, reading and writing. Despite modern technology, the office doesn’t have to strike a jarring contrast with the rest of your home. The highly efficient laptop you work from may not resonate with the 18th or 19th Century study, but your desk and décor certainly can.
When the country was instructed to work from home if possible, there were some happy novelties- namely endless cups of tea and waking up ten minutes before your first meeting of the day. But then Zoom calls became exhausting, interrupted by children or pets, and the home WiFi cracked under the pressure. The line between working life and free time became increasingly blurred.
Love it or loathe it, working from home for lots of professions is going to remain prominent. Creating the perfect home office space is vital for the most productive and aesthetic work environment. A study ought to provide an oasis of calm amidst the chaos. Technical equipment is the interior designer’s worst nightmare and the key to reconciling cables and screens with attractive furnishings is storage and clever use of space.
A handsome secretaire can ease all your work-from-home woes. Introduced in the late 18th Century, these enclosed cabinets became a staple for middle-class homes. The secretaire, which translates literally as ‘writing desk,’ keeps your unruly paperwork, many notes-to-self and quirky possessions safe and out of sight. Archival boxes serve a similar purpose and will keep your desk clutter-free.
Just as important as an attractive, practical desk is the accompanying seat. Long days sat at the computer cry out for a good chair. A finely crafted antique chair will give you the support you need to get through a lengthy meeting or project at your desk. In addition to a desk chair, a good library chair is perfect for the coffee break or a morning meeting.
We have been given unprecedented insight into each other’s homes during this period, seeing our colleagues in a more personal light. On a video call, it seems as though people compete for the most extravagant house plant, the most diverse and
thoroughly stocked bookshelves or the finest painting in their background.
Excess decoration is often a distraction in an office environment. However, some décor is necessary and a good clock is a must for counting down the minutes until your next tea break. The odd attractive painting, sculpture or vase is worth including to provide something pleasing to the eye when you’re on your eighth Zoom call of the day. In the midst of a long working day, a few memoirs from travels and adventures can help to keep you motivated for your next trip.
The home office should have several sources of light; a desk light is vital and a floor lamp a pleasant decorative addition. A Maison Jansen palm standard light in the corner of the room will out-shine even the most over the top house plants.
Necessities aside, why not put a daybed in for when the constant stream of video
conferencing gets overwhelming? Lorfords even offer a bed for your (very small) dog or cat, so that they don't miss out.
Consider investing in a drinks trolley to keep nearby, Mad Men style, so that your 5pm drink comes that bit faster. Alternatively, stay true to the sober Victorian beginnings of the bar cart and use it to keep a constant stream of tea going.
Visit our new lookbook, ‘Curate the perfect antique home office’ to browse the pieces featured.
Winter gloom getting you down? If it is and you happen to be in London over the next few weeks I recommend you hot foot it over to Bermondsey where some instant sunshine can be found.
The Fashion and Textile Museum (who knew?) currently have a rather wonderful exhibition about the architect and designer Josef Frank and his work for the Swedish company Svensk Tenn. Linens pulsate with tropical blooms in eye-popping colours; a curtain fabric is printed with an abstracted map of 1940s Manhattan in red white and blue; and floral patterns with names like Dixieland, Himalaya and Hawaii are as fresh as the breath of Spring. It’s Prozac by the yard and a revelation if you thought that 1940s fabrics were all about cut moquette and black out curtains or that design in Sweden starts and ends with the Billy bookcase. But that’s the thing about Swedish design – it packs a punch.
You’ll be hearing a lot more about Sweden this year and it’s all done to one word: Lagom. Remember hygge? It was the Big Thing from Denmark that you would have to have spent the last six months living as a hermit in a cave not to have heard about. Well, it seems our appetite for all things Nordic remains as healthy as ever. Lagom is a Swedish word which (very roughly) translates as ‘just enough’. It stands for moderation and not going over the top and has its origins in the country’s Lutheran religion. Lagom is central to the Swedish sense national identity and influences all aspects of the country’s life, language and culture. Anyway, it now appears that lagom has the power to enhance our lives in a similar way that hygge had just a few short months ago. I won’t go into details here, lest I have to add ‘Lifestyle Guru’ to my already heaving CV. Oh, but maybe I’m being too harsh. As so often in life, I think it’s a case of “For those who like that sort of thing, that is the sort of thing they like”. Personally, I prefer the more tangible aspects of Swedish culture and, for those intent on getting some lagom in their life, I’d say look no further than Swedish design.
Lagom is at the heart of a favourite Swedish saying: ‘enough is as good as a feast’. At its best, Swedish design isn’t about having enough of one thing but the right amount of morethan one thing; a melding of different styles and influences which unite to create something uniquely Swedish. For this reason, the history of Swedish design is a history of happy marriages – the formal with the informal, Neo-Classicism and Rustic, Functionalism and Classical; Modernism and traditional crafts.
Swedish design is about getting the ingredients and the proportions just right. What do I mean? Well let’s go back to where we started. At first sight, you couldn’t get further away from lagom than a room full of Josef Frank’s fabrics, but that’s not how they’re intended to be seen. Used economically, however, on a series of cushions, a blind or to upholster a chair, they bring it that room to life: lagom in action. Used in this way, the mantra of moderation, actually adds to rather than restricts creativity and it’s in the very DNA of Swedish design.
The roots of a distinct design identity in Sweden can be traced to the 18th century, when, after an extended stay at the court of Louis XVI at Versailles, the future King Gustav III initiated a style of decoration that took its lead from the Neo-Classicism that was sweeping Europe at the time. Gustav III was a patron of the arts, founder of the Swedish Academy and commissioner of the Royal Opera House. Since his death (from a gunshot wound sustained at a masked ball - quite a party, by the sounds of it) the king has become synonymous with this style of furniture. The Gustavian style emphasised elegance, simplicity, lightness and comfort and offered a more liveable and more modest interpretation of Neo-Classicism than that found in England or France. It is a pared back version of French neoclassicism. Large mirrors, which maximised the light during long winters, were gilded, while chandeliers tended to have five or seven arms with candleholders. The style spread from the royal palaces of Drottningholm and Gripsholm to the town houses of the well-to-do and out to their country cottages, where it became more rustic and homespun but was still recognisably Gustavian in its origins: countryside homes were decorated with painted furniture; either white-washed or painted grey or soft cream. The light painted finishes provided a reflective quality that was desired during the long dark winters. Life in the region was primarily responsible for shaping Scandinavian design. Long, harsh winters with very few hours of daylight kept people indoors for many months. Besides, most people lived in small houses. So it was imperative to make homes feel cosy yet airy, with every object in it reflecting as much ambient light as possible.
By the early 1920s the phrase on everyone’s lips was Swedish Grace. Swedish Grace was born out of Functionalism, the uncompromising aesthetic that sought to eradicate decoration and produce furniture and homes for the Machine Age. But pure Functionalism was always a bit too extreme for lagom loving Swedes and by the following decade designers like Josef Frank developed a style that was a more easily digestible version of Functionalism– still uncompromisingly modern but with the edges rounded, a style that would make a home feel cosy and comfortable, characterised by elegance and simplicity and even a little (whisper it) decoration. But it was in the middle decades of the twentieth century that Swedish design entered its golden age.
When we think of Scandinavian design in the twentieth century, I suppose it’s the Danes with their sculptural furniture in rosewood and teak and the Finns with their Functionalism that tend to grab the limelight. But, for my money, it’s the Swedes, with their ceramics, glass, textiles and love of pattern who provide a particularly sweet filling in the Scandi design sandwich. Let’s take a closer look at some of the people who put Swedish design on the map.
Bruno Mathsson (1907-88)
Bruno Mathsson was a furniture designer and architect. Like Josef Frank Mathsson believed in giving the machine age
a human face and designed furniture with the user in mind. The Evachair (1934) is one of the outstanding designs of Swedish modernism. It features a seat section constructed of moulded solid wood and woven hemp webbing that follows the body’s contours, providing comfort without the need for upholstery. Mathsson once said ‘comfortable sitting is an art – it ought not to be. Instead the making of chairs has to be done with such an art that the sitting will not be any “art”’. Mathsson practised what he preached and the Eva chair is a perfect synthesis of ergonomics and sculptural craftsmanship.
Stig Lindberg (1916-82)
One of the outstanding figures of mid-century Scandinavian modernism, Stig Lindberg was also one of Sweden’s most prolific and best-known designers. He designed across a range of media, including glassware and textiles, but it is probably his ceramics that are his best known work and which sum up mid-century modern Swedish style. Lindberg’s work has two distinct strands. One is sculptural, with elastic shapes and organic decoration, the other colourful and decorative. His Karnevalseries of ceramics, with decoration based on folk art and looking for all the world like illustrations from childrens’ books, was one of Lindberg’s most successful designs and a highpoint in 20thcentury ceramics.
Erik Hoglund (1932-98)
Sweden’s glass industry began to develop in the early 1920s and, over a short period, Swedish glass became a by-word
for restrained elegance and refinement, with firms like Orrefors and Kosta gaining international acclaim. But, for my money, a far more interesting episode in the history of Swedish glass is provided by Erik Hoglund, a man who brought a punk sensibility to the world of glass. Hoglund was chief designer at Boda Glass from 1953 until 1986. His early work at the firm really pushed the boundaries and included a series of heavily textured bowls and vases that was achieved by throwing potato peeling into the furnace. Hoglund’s designs, with their lumpy forms and earthy colours, were in startling contrast to his contemporaries but, despite this, were a commercial success and today Erik Hoglund is remembered as one of the key figures in mid-century Swedish design.
For “Antiques Roadshow” expert Chris Yeo the latest exhibition at the Victoria and Albert Museum was just the starting point for a surprising journey following in the footsteps of one of the twentieth century’s outstanding designers – and a Soviet spy ring - to one of London’s most revolutionary and glamorous buildings. Who would have thought plywood could be so interesting?
When you think of plywood (as we all do from to time) what is it that comes to mind? If tea chests and cheap D-I-Y are all you can think of then the curators at the Victoria and Albert Museum are keen for you to pay a visit. As the museum’s latest exhibition Plywood: Material of the Modern World is quick to point out, despite its humdrum image, plywood used to be seen as a “wonder” material, favoured by engineers and avant garde designers at the cutting edge of technical and artistic innovation. The exhibition features a bewilderingly diverse array of objects - from bi- planes to skateboards -alongside design classics a-plenty by the giants of 20th century design, including Alvar Aalto and Charles and Ray Eames, to tell the story of how plywood made the twentieth century.
Plywood - the technique of layering cross-grained veneers to make a material stronger than solid wood - has been around for a long time; the ancient Egyptians were using it in around 2600BC. But it was only in the early twentieth century that designers began to exploit and celebrate its ability to be shaped into strong, curved forms, when plywood started to be seen as chic. Amongst the exhibits on show one piece stood head and shoulders above the rest; something so jaw droppingly beautiful that it stopped me in my tracks. A symphony of sensuous curves, the item in question could easily be mistaken for a piece of Modernist sculpture by Henry Moore, but was, in fact, a lounge chair. It was designed in 1936 by Hungarian émigré and Bauhaus golden boy Marcel Breuer and was manufactured by a British company called Isokon. This chance encounter was enough to make me hunger for more. I’ve always believed that every great piece of design has a bigger story to tell and, in this case, that certainly proved to be true. By the end of the day I had traversed London with all the assiduousness of one of Agatha Christie’s detectives. You’ll be hearing more of her later. In the meantime, let me tell you of the story of the incredible house that plywood built.
Let’s start with Isokon. The design studio was founded in 1929 by young husband and wife team Jack and Molly Pritchard. They were idealists and visionaries who passionately believed in the power of good design to change society for the better. Both had travelled widely in Europe where they were impressed by the new ‘international style’ of modernist design that was emerging there. The Pritchards probably qualify as the unsung heroes of 20th century design in England, mainly known today for the furniture they produced – design classics like the Long Chair and the’ Penguin Donkey’ (not, as it sounds, a nightmarish hybrid from the island of Doctor Moreau but a storage system for paperbacks) – all constructed from plywood. For most of the 1920s Jack Pritchard had been Sales Manager of Estonian company Venesta, at that point the largest manufacturer of plywood in the world and as a result ply was used almost exclusively by Isokon in the furniture it produced. Pritchard’s contacts within the European design scene meant that by the mid-1930s, as well as Marcel Breuer, Isokon’s payroll included celebrated ex-Bauhaus designers like Walter Gropius and Egon Riss and Isokon furniture was a must have amongst the capital’s in-crowd. But Jack and Molly had plans that went beyond furniture; their magnum opus was to construct a building the like of which England had never seen before; a vast Modernist block of apartments which would not only look revolutionary but which would also offer a radically new way of living. The Isokon building - also known as the Lawn Road Flats - was to be a bold experiment that would introduce the concept of communal living to the middle classes. They decided to bring the revolution right to the heart of respectable middle class Britain and a plot in the leafy north London suburb of Hampstead was bought.
What the Pritchards needed was someone who could make their dreams concrete. In 1932 they found that person in the shape of a young Canadian architect, Gordon Wells-Coates. Wells-Coates turned heads wherever he went. He was good looking, dynamic, slightly eccentric and, according to Jack Pritchard, “cooked Eastern cuisine and was known to sit comfortably in the lotus position for hours”. Born in Canada to Methodist missionary parents, Wells-Coates spent his childhood in Japan and, as a young man during the First World War, had joined the Royal Flying Corps (where he had flown a Sopwith Camel – a plane largely made from – as if you didn’t know – plywood). After being demobbed, he studied at Whitehall’s Department of Scientific and Industrial Research. But ever the free spirit, instead of taking a job in industrial design, Coates became a writer for the Daily Express and became part of the 1920s Bloomsbury set; a Martini swilling fixture in the fashionable haunts of Soho and Fitzrovia. Alongside his appealing personal traits, the young architect shared the Pritchards’ vision of a modern world shaped by good design. It was a meeting of minds and the air between them positively crackled.
Wells-Coates had very little experience of designing buildings, certainly nothing on the scale of the Isokon building. But what he lacked in practical experience he made up for in charisma and the Pritchards were sold. Their confidence was not misplaced. A trip up the Northern Line showed me that Wells-Coates lived up to his promise and delivered with a super engineered, sleek, jaw dropping, timeless slice of beauty. Sitting among the Georgian terraces of leafy Hampstead the Isokon building was truly revolutionary when it first opened its doors in 1934. Built of reinforced concrete – the first time in Britain this had been used on a domestic building - with cement wash render (white with a hint of pink), the main elevation facing Lawn Road features a cantilevered stairwell giving access to cantilevered balconies that are carried the full length of the building. Today the streamlined apartment building still feels fresh with its crisp, sculpted outline and floating balconies suggesting a great ocean liner moored among the trees. Not surprisingly, plywood featured strongly, from plywood wardrobes and fitted kitchens to the penthouse flat – originally occupied by Jack Pritchard and his wife Molly - its walls and floors clad in Finnish birch ply.
Jack Pritchard labelled his brainchild ‘an experiment in new ways of urban living’; a bold claim but one which rang true. The flats were intended for young professionals: people who could not afford to buy homes and would otherwise be living in digs presided over by hatchet-faced landladies in curlers, prone to imposing curfews at nine and breakfast at eight. Residents were originally expected to dine and socialise in the communal restaurant –the Isobar - on the ground floor, rather than privately in their flats. It was the UK's first attempt at communal living. In 1930s Britain this really was revolutionary.
The Isokon building offered a raffish escape from grim inter-war reality: nude sunbathing on the roof terrace soon became de rigueur. While the flats were originally intended for the not so well-off, they quickly became the epicentre of North London's avant-garde scene during the 1930s and 1940s, populated by a fashionable elite of artists, writers and other free thinkers. Laurence Olivier and Vivienne Leigh could frequently be seen in the Isobar sipping cocktails and talking philosophy with Betrand Russell. Famous residents at this time included the sculptors Henry Moore and Barbara Hepworth; ex Bauhaus Head Walter Gropius lived there as did Marcel Breuer but perhaps its most famous resident was Agatha Christie, who wrote her only spy novel N or M?while she was living in the flats. Christie often said that she invented her characters from what she observed going on around her and at the Isokon building she would have found plenty of material. Communal living attracted communist sympathisers. Alongside its intellectuals and artists, the Isokon building became a haunt of some of the most prominent Soviet agents working against Britain in the 1930s and 40s, among them Arnold Deutsch, the controller of a notorious group of Cambridge spies and Melita Norwood, the longest-serving Soviet spy in British espionage history.
Glamour, notoriety and a whiff of revolutionary fervour, the Isokon building had it all. But from being a shining beacon of modernity the building’s fortunes slid and, by the end of the twentieth century it had fallen on hard times, a haunt of drug dealers and drop outs. Fortunately a few souls with all the visionary insight of Wells-Coates and the Prtichards saw beyond the graffiti. After an extensive restoration in the early noughties, the Grade 1 listed Isokon building is riding high once again: a tribute to its creators, it will always be the house that ply built.
Orangery or Conservatory, you don’t need green fingers to succumb to the charms of a glasshouse, says Chris Yeo.
Spring is here. The clocks have leapt forward and it’s about now that every garden lover starts getting cabin fever. There is only so much peering at snowdrops and admiring frosted leaves one can do before the desire to start living life alfresco sets in. We head outdoors, ready to be captivated by Spring’s sweet breath and then, straightaway, turnaround and head back indoors. It’s just too cold! The turning of the seasonal wheel seems to have been lost on the English weather of late. What with the Beast from the East and the Pest from the West, any attempt to enjoy the outdoor life is likely to be put off by a carpeting of snow and freezing temperatures. Should we be surprised? For a country on the same latitude as Russia, our love affair with the outdoors might be considered more a triumph of optimism over reality. So just how are we supposed to uphold our claim to be a nation of gardeners when our weather is so often less than clement? You could try houseplants but, quite honestly, who wants to cope with a jungle in the sitting room, especially when it involves having to play handmaiden of the leaf shine lotion to a collection of potted dust magnets? Personally, I’ve always liked the halfway house of, to use an old-fashioned word, the glasshouse. After all, who does not long for the warmth of the sun during the darkest days of January, or dream of the tropics in the midst of a frigid February? The attraction of a conservatory or orangery is more than merely bringing the outside inside. It’s an oasis of tranquillity, a space to indulge a passion for dahlias or date palms, and one of the best places on earth to enjoy a glass of something chilled when the temperature outside is a bit too chilly. Glasshouses may do nothing to end a long winter, but, as has been the case for centuries, they bring the scents and sense of the outdoors in, despite the weather.
Conservatory lovers have Tiberius Caesar, Rome’s second emperor from 14 to 37 AD, to thank for the invention of the original glasshouse. He insisted that his favourite fruits be available all year round and set his gardeners to work, clothing cold frames with mica to capture sunlight. The earliest known glasshouses appeared in England in the 17th century, but not to designs that would be familiar to us today. At that time they were merely stone structures with more glazing in them than the buildings nearby and were designed to protect shrubs such as myrtle and bay from the worst of the winter cold.
People who live in glasshouses should refrain from throwing stones. They should also brush up on their etymology; is it a conservatory or an orangery? ‘Orangery' certainly sounds like the smarter option, but is there really much of a difference? Well, yes. An orangery looks distinctly different from a conservatory. Typically, its walls, pillars and window frames are more substantial than those of a conventional conservatory. The name reflects their original purpose, which was to protect citrus trees that would be raised in tubs and introduced into the building during early autumn. The origins of the orangery are to be found in Renaissance Italy but it was the growing taste for oranges and other citrus fruits amongst the wealthy of northern Europe that saw their popularity blossom. Fittingly, it was William III – Prince of Orange – who is credited with introducing them to Britain, when he became King in 1689. Initially exclusively built and owned by Royalty and aristocracy, orangeries quickly became a vital ingredient of any garden of taste – a space where horticulture rubbed shoulders with high fashion. People suddenly wanted to spend more time in their plant-housing space and orangeries started to become person as well as plant-friendly. It would not be unusual for plants to be removed during the hotter summer months and the area to be used for social occasions, parties and tea-drinking. Often, designed to imitate Greek or Roman temples, originally, orangeries were built as extensions on large buildings, but as fashions changed, it soon became popular to have them separate from the main house.
When the term ‘conservatory’ was initially coined, like the orangery, it referred to stand-alone structures that were often used to house exotic plants. Gradually the name became attached to buildings which, unlike orangeries, were more glass than wall and - here’s the crucial difference - were more likely to be part of the main house. A combination of the hefty window tax introduced in 1696, and the glass tax introduced in 1746, made even the smallest conservatory remarkable and put glasshouses far beyond the reach of the average country squire. To the majority of the population, it was an object of awe and signified prestige, wealth and power – the Georgian equivalent of a private jet, if you like, but things were about to change. By the 1840s both the glass and window taxes were abolished; making glasshouses affordable to a greater percentage of the population. Not only that, thanks to the Industrial Revolution, the cost of making glass dropped dramatically. New technologies of making plate glass rather than blown glass, resulted in larger, cheaper panes, and coincided with the emergence of cast iron, which was strong enough to carry larger expanses of glass. It was the perfect technological storm and the glasshouse grew and grew, not just in popularity but also size. It also coincided with the introduction of plants from all over the empire collected by a new breed of plant hunters. Travellers and merchants would return from afar with specimens not previously seen in this country. They brought in plants that we now regard as commonplace - such as orchids, lilies and lupins - but back then were heralded as exotic beauties.
The Victorian period was the Golden Age of the glasshouse. This was largely down to one man, Joseph Paxton, a man who did for the glasshouse what Isambard Kingdom Brunel did for railways and suspension bridges. Paxton was the very image of the Victorian polymath, a gardener, engineer, architect, magazine editor, landscape designer and, in his spare time, a Member of Parliament. He blazed a trail in glass architecture. Between 1836 and 1841 he built the Great Conservatory at Chatsworth in Derbyshire, at the time the large glass building in the world. Shaped like a tent, it was 277 feet long, 67 feet high and covered ¾ of an acre. Eight boilers heated the conservatory through seven miles of iron pipe and it cost over £30,000 to build. There was a central carriageway and when Queen Victoria was driven through, it was lit with twelve thousand lamps. Even she was amused, noting in her diary that it was ‘the most stupendous and extraordinary creation imaginable’. The Great Conservatory inspired the construction of conservatories worldwide but it was only the beginning for Paxton. The following decade he was commissioned to design and build Crystal Palace in London – a global symbol of Victorian Britain’s industrial prowess – that covered 19 acres and required 293,635 panes of glass. The Crystal Palace helped popularise the use of glass as a building material, and Victorian Britain went glasshouse mad with homes sprouting conservatories of all shapes and sizes as a result of their owners being wowed by Paxton’s epic creation.
The First World War was a major blow to the glasshouse. Many gardening staff left to fight and didn’t return. Homeowners rarely had the labour or money for their upkeep, and many fell into dereliction. Even Joseph Paxton’s Great Conservatory was demolished in 1920 and the Crystal Palace – on its knees financially - went up in flames in 1936. But it isn’t all a tale of woe. Many of those that did survive have been lovingly restored and today the glasshouse – whether orangery or conservatory – is a proud feature of homes great and small, enabling lovers of nature to enjoy the feel of the garden all year-round.
Image credits: 1-2 Author’s own
Remaining; Chatsworth House Trust