Tuesday, 24 March 2015

The Diamond Connection

While I'm not entirely of the opinion that diamonds are a girl's best friend, they're still pretty high up on my Top 100 list.   Pre-babies I used to write about jewellery, which meant that I'd spend mornings at Moussaieff or De Beers or Boucheron or Bulgari, trying on the kind of earrings and necklaces that dreams are made of, or at Harry Winston in New York being shown bracelets from the vaults that were designed by Ambaji Venkatesh Shinde, one of the most talented jewellery designers in the world, and the first  to articulate stone settings in such a way that they really catch the light every time you move; the starting point of red carpet jewellery, and, though I'm not sure if The Killers know it, the beginnings of their line "took to the spotlight like a diamond ring" in Neon Tiger, which is a line I'm storing up for an as yet unwritten novel.

But while I've been busy procrastinating with regard to the novel writing, my friend Josie most certainly has not:  her first book, The Diamond Connection, is now available to buy on Amazon.


It tells the story of the most expensive diamond necklace in the world and its theft during a high-profile charity gala in London - whereupon Jemima Fox-Pearl, Head of PR at the fine jewellery house Vogel, racks up air miles between London, South Africa and New York in a bid to solve the crime while at the same time unravelling a century-old mystery concerning the Cullinan Diamond's fabled missing part, and accidentally falling in love.  

What's brilliant is that Josie really knows what she's writing about, for she spent much of her twenties as Head of PR at the fine jewellery house Graff . . .  and it's pacy and exciting and informative and she's already working on the next one thank goodness because I, for one, can't wait to read it.  I also really want to go to South Africa, but that's a whole other issue.

So to finish, here are some amazing diamonds, which might have provided inspiration for Ms. Goodbody:

The Imperial State Crown.  See that diamond there?  That's part of the Cullinan diamond.  Before it was split up, it was over 3,106 carats - so big, the manager of the diamond mine threw it away, not believing it could be an actual diamond.  

More of the Cullinan Diamond - the largest part in fact, at 530.20 carats, it's known as the Star of Africa, and is set into the Royal Sceptre.  This, and the crown above, can be seen if one visits the Crown Jewels.  (Oh, and if you want a super super amazingly special Crown Jewels experience, check out the Christie's Travel Jewels of London trip in June, which includes a private view of the Crown Jewels, and dinner in the White Tower.)  

The Orlov Diamond, which was 300 carats when found, and was apparently stolen in India in the 1700s by a French deserter from the eye of Vishnu's idol in the innermost sanctuary temple in Sriangam.  Eventually it ended up in Amsterdam where it was bought by Count Grirogi Orlov, who gave it to his former lover, Catherine the Great of Russia, who had it mounted in the Imperial Sceptre.  It's now in the Kremlin.

The Moussaieff Red Diamond, measuring 5.11 carats and the largest red diamond in the world, it's mentioned in the novel.  (Less is said about Madame Moussaieff herself, who is the only woman working at the top of the male-dominated field of fine jewellery, and who I have always found fascinating.)

You know what?  Forget what I said at the beginning.  Diamonds like these would be anybody's best friend.  But until you can afford one, a similar pleasure can be gleaned from The Diamond Connection.  Buy it, read it.

Monday, 9 March 2015

Decorating with Horses

From the age of say, eight, to the age of twelve, my approach to decorating was simple:  I blue-tacked posters ripped from Pony Magazine to every spare inch of my bedroom walls, hung all the rosettes won on Smokey/ Misty/ Rainbow along the picture rail, and ensured that the collection of Spode Noble Horse plates that my grandfather bought for me via an advertisement in the back of the Telegraph Magazine took pride of place over my bed.  Meanwhile my windowsill became a shrine to worn horse shoes, and my bookshelves were crammed with everything from The Manual of Horsemanship to the complete series of Ruby Ferguson's Jill's Ponies books.  (And yes, I wanted to be Jill.  Didn't we all?)

My mother wasn't overly keen, especially since, with me ensconced at boarding school (with ponies, naturally) my bedroom doubled as the spare bedroom.  In retrospect, I realise that she missed a trick.  Had I been introduced to the joys of this wallpaper:

Jour de Fete by Pierre Frey

I probably wouldn't have felt the need to cover it up with Next Milton/ Henderson Milton/ whoever (and did anybody else find it slightly inconvenient that John Whitaker kept changing his sponsor, and thus his horses' names?)  The thing is, home was a series of army quarters, so I imagine that the argument would have been that it wouldn't have been worth wallpapering a room that was only going to be mine for a couple of years, tops.  But surely there was another solution:  she could have bought me a Stubbs or two, no?

Whistlejacket by George Stubbs.  

Of course, the above painting hangs in the National Gallery, which should give you some indication of how much a work by Stubbs might cost.  But I really wasn't picky, as evidenced by my love of the Spode plates.  Here's a picture of one, just to give you an idea of how gloriously gopping they are:

Obviously I didn't have them on little stands.  I had them on the wall.  All eight of them.

Now, of course, we have Lumitrix, which I'd recommend to any mother looking to improve the look of her daughter's bedroom walls - or indeed any other room in the house - specifically, the work of Astrid Harrison:

Astrid Harrison, Circling at Dawn

Astrid Harrison, Camargue in the Mist

But back to my own deprived childhood, in which I had an actual pony but, crucially, no ponies gracing my curtains.  I genuinely don't understand how this happened - obviously I should have had a subscription to World of Interiors and House & Garden as well as Pony Magazine, and then I might have discovered these fabrics:

Haras by Pierre Frey

Lasso by Pierre Frey (I love this.  Esmeralda is so totally going to find it in her bedroom at the very first indication of her being as infatuated as I was . . . )

And They're Off!  by Ralph Lauren Home (which is an incredibly pretty toile and you don't even necessarily realise that it's about horses unless you really examine it up close.)

To conclude, one day I'll probably allow my horse obsession to once again take over, at least in some rooms.  My Pinterest has a dedicated 'Fantasy Stables' board, for when we move to the country and the second coming of Rainbow the Wonder Pony takes place  (I spend a lot of time on Morgan Equine looking at their coloured ponies . . . )  In the mean time, the Spode plates are in my kitchen cupboard, and it's suddenly occurred to me that I can use them for a series of themed parties, which Andrew thinks sound like hell.  

I, however, am very much looking forward to our Grand National lunch. 

Sunday, 1 March 2015

Visions of India

The television serial of The Jewel in the Crown was largely responsible for a significant proportion of my Gap year.  I was therefore on tenterhooks awaiting Indian Summers, which my Sunday evenings are now structured around.  Because, even though it's shot in Malaysia, it's still the closest I've got to India in about five years.

I have to go - I keep finding little visions - all of which I take as signs directing me to the Air India website, and my obsession with Good Earth is becoming almost overwhelming - I need these plates:

Indus Plates by Good Earth

Our bathroom needs these towels:

Ceylon Towels by Good Earth

And Sholto and Esmeralda need this tent:

The Caravan Galaxy Tent by Good Earth - how heavenly?  (Although Esmeralda says she'd like it to feature palm trees and spiders, rather than camels.)

Good Earth do actually ship worldwide, but I'm sure that it would be more cost effective for me to actually go there. . . .   So, as an interim, I re-read Rumer Godden's The Peacock Spring, which is beyond wonderful, and went to see Dara at the National Theatre, which is on until the 4th April and which tells the tale of two brothers, Aurangzeb and Dara, and their battle for succession in Mughal India.  The sets are exceptional - all the action takes place either in Agra Fort or the Red Fort in Delhi - as are the costumes, and the predominant theme of the play, which concerns religion and extremism, is both fascinating and relevant; one slightly wonders how it is that we are still having the same arguments 350 years later, but there we go.

Dara at the National Theatre

So while I'm preparing myself for a Good Earth binge, I'm considering the merits of wallpapering a room (or two) in something that will inspire feelings of being in the sub-continent.  Firstly, Jacqueline Seifert's Kerala collection of wallpaper, which I discovered at Craft back in January:

Rickshaw wallpaper by Jacqueline Seifert.   Just looking at it I can almost feel the vibrations (in a Keralan Beach Boys, kind of way.)

And here's another of Jacqueline Seifert's designs from the range, on a wall, suddenly, I'm thinking that my bathroom needs this.  And palm trees!  

But then, there's also Manuel Canovas and Pierre Frey to take into consideration:

Bengale by Manuel Canovas - I've been in love with this wallpaper for almost as long as I can remember

Jardin de Mysore by Pierre Frey (yes, basically I just love elephants.)

Maoris by Pierre Frey, which perhaps isn't so obviously of a particular country but which definitely makes me think of India.

Any decisions are going to take a while, not least because I'll have to convince my husband who thinks he doesn't like wallpaper.   In the mean time, The Second Best Exotic Marigold Hotel is now at the cinema.  A vision of India is better than no India at all.  




Tuesday, 13 January 2015

Out of Africa

So, I was drifting around the Home/ Craft/ whatever trade fair at Olympia on Sunday, feeling faintly uninspired by everything I was seeing when I, by chance - and I mean really by chance because I had been going to skip that corner - discovered a stand that suddenly made the whole forty minute bus ride worthwhile (I know.  It's not long.  And I was totally consumed by Frank Garder's biography Blood and Sand, so it was actually quite enjoyable.)  I discovered this:

Eva Soniake

And it might be because I had just been reading an account of travelling through Sudan, and it might also be because I'm just a tiny bit obsessed with Stella Jean -

Stella Jean Spring/ Summer 2015 - totally the look I'm aspiring to come the heatwave

- but either way I suddenly want to cover my entire house in Eva Sonaike's African-inspired prints.  Being me, my eye immediately focused on the straightforward textiles:

Esin Yellow from the Vintage Safari Collection

Esin Green from the Vintage Safari Collection

But these textiles can be turned into cushions (which for once I'm going to say no to as I am beyond over cushioned), pouffes (yes please!!)

Oh my goodness I want one so much.

And bags:

Which may be an easier (not to mention cheaper) way to integrate a bit of Africana to my look this summer.

Eva - who incidentally used to be a fashion journalist for In Style Germany (she is German) so totally got my Stella Jean reference - also does bespoke and makes rugs; you can colour match the colours to whatever it is you need them to match.  The fabrics are great upholstery fabrics as well as curtains/ blinds, and I'm suddenly wavering over my Colefax & Fowler choice for a particular chair (I haven't bought the fabric yet, so there's time.)  The Eva Sonaike mission is "Bringing colour to life" - and oh, I want it in mine. . . .


www.evasonaike.com

Sunday, 4 January 2015

All Tomorrow's Parties

We celebrated the New Year, as we nearly always do, with our friends Lara and Mark.  They give great New Year's Eve parties, one reason being that supper is guaranteed delicious.  Both of them can cook, and I mean really cook.  And every time I eat at their house it inspires me to do something about my own culinary ineptitude - for I know, at least for Mark, that his prowess in the kitchen is a learned art:  I remember a time when his dinner parties came from Rotisserie Jules.  I've got to up my game.  Which, as far as I'm concerned, means throwing more lunch and dinner parties - quite conveniently, actually, for as ever I've started the year with a long list of people I really want to see, soon.

Sadly I'm unlikely to become a world class chef - or even remotely proficient - by the end of January, despite my kitchen being stocked with tomes from everyone from Nigella to Ottolenghi.  Therefore it's essential that the table looks good.  For I'm totally convinced that a beautiful place setting can distract anyone from the fact that I'm serving fish pie followed by chocolate brownies, again.  And in this, I have to admit to gleaning most of my inspiration from Valentino:  At The Emperor's Table:




Did you ever, ever, see anything so heavenly as any of these?  The closest I've found to anyone else being to emulate the great Valentino is Nina Campbell, who entertains in serious style, and who, true to my heart, declared at a masterclass she hosted that one can simply never have enough china.  And I happen to know that she means it, and has a colossal cupboard dedicated to her collection.

I've always thought it a shame that the majority only have one or two sets of china - I do get the storage issue - but how heavenly to be able to use, say, Royal Copenhagen blue and white, or Fornasetti malachite, or something pretty and gilded by Limoges, totally on whim?  When I have an enormous house, I shall do just that.  Valentino acquires his priceless china via Christie's and Sotheby's, but I am sufficiently in touch with reality to realise that I probably won't - unless our lottery numbers come in - be able to build up my collection that way.  However, there are a few easier to acquire sets that I've got my eye on . . . :

Kit Kemp's Mythical Creatures for Wedgewood.  Even if the food weren't beyond delicious and the hotel full of my favourite textiles (Kit Kemp's Moondog for Chelsea Textiles, the most heavenly ikat lampshades etc., similar of which can be found at Susan Deliss) this china on it's own would be reason enough to lunch regularly at Ham Yard hotel.  Except that you can't really see just how marvellous it is in this image, so:

Here it is again.  Kit Kemp's Mythical Creatures for Wedgewood.

Oscar de la Renta's Botanical Garden Peony  . . .  This would totally be my go-to for a summer lunch in the garden.  Now these don't really go, but I have to include them anyway because they're also by Oscar de la Renta:

Oscar de la Renta Amber Tortoise Wine Glass.  There are water glasses too, and a decanter.  I have a weakness for leopard.  Nina Cambell has some amazing leopard print placemats, incidentally, which I seriously covert:

They're not available to buy, sadly.  But that amber glassware is, and amber glassware, especially at night, is exquisite.  If you look back at the first Valentino image, you can see it used there, too.

Ralph Lauren Home! Just in case you want leopard china.  It doesn't actually totally do it for me.  

Finally, a complete change - Limoges:  Bernardaut's Constance Rouge.  I love this. It would be so pretty, especially in the winter.

But, right now, I'm going to return to perusing cookery books.  Because however beautiful the plates are, I still need to produce something to go on them.


Valentino: At The Emperor's Table by Andre Leon Talley is published by Assouline and you can buy it here.
Kit Kemp's Mythical Creatures for Wedgewood can be bought here.
www.oscardelarenta.com
www.ninacampbell.com
www.ralphlaurenhome.com
www.bernardaut.fr




Wednesday, 31 December 2014

Living with Light

It is around this time every year (post-Christmas, still the school holidays) that I cast my eye around my lego-strewn and Peppa Pig-assaulted house, and despair.  I know that underneath it all there's a nice sofa and a lovely rug etc., but nonetheless I begin to wish that my natural decorating taste ran to something a little emptier, more considered, something resembling this:


Which is by Axel Vervoordt, the legendary Belgian art and antiques dealer and interior designer who has worked with, among unnamed others, Pierre Berge, Dries Van Noten, Calvin Klein and Kanye West (his Paris house.  I don't know who is responsible for the $20 million Calabas 'dream house' that he and Kim are rumoured to be about to move into, and am on tenterhooks waiting for AD to cover it.  They will, won't they, surely . . . .? )  Vervoordt has also just done the penthouse at the part-owned-by Robert de Niro Greenwich Hotel, New York, which I now want to decamp to on a permanent basis.

The Penthouse at the Greenwich Hotel, New York

The Penthouse at the Greenwich Hotel, New York

There's a book on my shelf by Vervoordt entitled Living With Light, from where I appropriated the title of this post, but even if there hadn't been it is one of the features of his work that makes it so exceptional.  His rooms, to me, speak of the golden age of Dutch painting - there's a Vermeer-ness to them, to the way that light that pours into them.  I'd like to say it's due to geography, but that doesn't explain the beauty of Vervoordt's projects in countries beyond northern Europe.

The Milkmaid, by Johannes Vermeer

So here are some more rooms by the great Axel Vervoordt, and sons, who both work for him in his atelier.  It really is gloriously renaissance-like, especially when one discovers that he also makes products for the home - his sofas and chairs are some of the most beautiful I've ever seen - and there's an actual art gallery too.  (Vervoordt bought his first Lucio Fontana in his twenties, and there's a passage on the artist in Living with Light, his slashed canvases "with a seemingly infinite space at the centre are like portals into the void.  Pregnant with possibility, the cuts are openings into new dimensions that absorb light and seek to explore the universe and it's infinite reach.")

Concetto Spaziale by Lucio Fontana





So this year - along with giving blood more regularly and being more patient with my children and eating less sugar and being a better wife -  and I'm going to attempt the art of more considered collecting.  How that's going to marry with the aforementioned lego and Peppa Pig I'm not entirely sure, but don't these images make it look worth it?

www.axel-vervoordt.com

Sunday, 5 October 2014

House & Garden: The Fifties House

"If the Sixties was the time Britain threw off the shackles of grim, post-war austerity then the Fifties was the decade we began picking the lock," writes Terence Conran in the foreword to the latest tome that makes use of Conde Nast's remarkable archives:  The Fifties House.  Identifying the decade as a turning point in the design world, his tells us how at the start of it "all you could buy in furniture was shiny reproduction Georgian pieces or huge cocktail cabinets that looked like glossy, veneered, bucolic charladies", and explains that the changes wrought were due to the influence of "a remarkable collection of architects and designers on the West Coast of the US, including George Nelson, Eero Saarinen, Alexander Girard, and particularly Charles and Ray Eames."

The changes were, naturally, documented by House & Garden Magazine - and here, in a book curated and written by Catriona Gray (House & Garden's Books Editor) they are presented in a manner that manages to be both enlightening and exciting - for anyone with an interest in the history of design, there's as much to learn as there is to admire.

The book is split into unequal thirds, the first being given over to the treatment of individual rooms, starting with the kitchen.  It was the Fifties that saw the widespread installation of the fitted kitchen (and the kitchen island), that introduced the concept of the kitchen as being a place to entertain guests as well as prepare food (which meant that people started caring what their appliances looked like) and "Because the homeowners were spending far more time in the kitchen than in previous generations, it made sense that, for the first time, this room became a hub for design trends."

Terence Conran's open-plan dining area and kitchen.  A Nigerian blanket is used as rug on the birch-plywood floor, the dining chairs are by Gio Ponti and the large spherical hanging lamp is by Noguchi.  The wall behind the white kitchen units is faced with ceramic tiles in House & Garden's 'Deep Night', from the magazine's colour range.  (This is actually from the middle third of the book, rather than the first third, but it is still a kitchen.)

Next up is the sitting room, which in the Fifties became "a multipurpose living space that was used to relax, entertain, play, eat and work."  We learn about the changes in heating (including an unsuccessful alternative to underfloor heating:  ceiling heating - "It was supposed to mimic the warming effects of sunlight, but in practice people's heads became overheated") and the introduction of the television changing the layout of the room.  Plus, fitted carpets became a popular choice, "often in an eye-catching pattern or bright colour", walls were painted or covered in patterned wallpaper (and feature walls were most definitely 'in'),  patterns often stemmed from science which Gray links to DNA being discovered in 1953, animal prints became widespread due to the French interior designer Madeleine Castaing . . . 

This exotic sitting room was designed by House & Garden photographer Anthony Denney, who was decoration editor of Vogue when this was shot in 1959.  White walls allow his collection of curiosities to be shown off to the full.  This sitting room is ahead of its time: as air travel became more popular in the Sixties, interiors increasingly displayed their owners' collections of curios from other cultures and exotic locations.

Further chapters are given over to the dining room, the bedsit & studio room (House & Garden actually ran a feature on interior design in university rooms - 'How to Read for an Honours Degree in Comfortable Self-Containment' - how amazing?!), the bedroom, and finally the bathroom, which is possibly my favourite chapter in this section.  "The days of the nondescript bathroom are over," wrote House & Garden in 1953, and my goodness they meant it.  There are several which I'd be quite thrilled to have in my house today.  Just look at this one:

While the dressing alcove is prettily pink, the bathroom itself takes classical Rome as its influence.  a mural on the wall makes the decorative reference crystal clear and is supplemented by the sunken, tiled bath, day bed and elegantly draped fabric - classical decadence reinterpreted for the United States of the 1950s.

It's perhaps not surprising that I find myself falling in love with these bathrooms for "In general, bathrooms haven't changed much since the Fifties.  Then, as now, the typical bathroom consisted of a matching three-piece suite of lavatory, basin and bath.  The difference is that there was far more deliberation about the design of these during the Fifties than there is today."  The other major change was that, with the bathroom moving inside the house, bathing had become an enjoyable experience and "Magazine articles suggested ways of injecting character into what was traditionally a cold and faceless room."  There are moments, it's true, when some of the bathrooms look a little dated - but they look rather comfortingly so, to me, reminding me of the bathrooms at my grandparents' houses:

A large floral-patterend wallpaper covers both walls and ceiling of this 1959 bathroom.  There is even a matching shower curtain.  A simple colour palette creates a smart effect, with matching blue storage containers, stool and table lamp, and wood painted in black gloss paint.  Opulence is created by the deep-pile white carpet.

The middle third of the book is simply entitled 'Houses' and contains several complete stories - among others the basement flat of designer Roger Nicholson and his wife Jane, the advertising artist Ashley Havinden's Queen Anne house in Hertfordshire which he filled with modern furniture, Le Corbusier's flat in Paris, the four-storey Cheyne Walk house belonging to the Fifties designers Robin and Lucienne Day, Hans and Florence Knoll's (of Knoll Associates) Paris apartment, photographs by Charles Eames of Alexander Girard's house at Santa Fe, and Terence and Shirley Conran's first home from which the first photograph in this post is taken.  (As an aside, their latest home is featured in the November issue of Living Etc.)  The book is an essential buy for this section alone, showing as it does the very best of the period, the houses and apartments of its most important and influential designers.  

Le Corbusier's studio on the eighth floor runs the whole width of the flat.  The exterior wall is made of glass, with an opaque panel in the centre to break up the light.  The painting is by Le Corbusier.

In the open-plan living area of this Paris apartment (belonging to Hans and Florence Knoll) much of the furniture is of a forward-looking, modern design.  The small armchair by the table was designed by Eero Saarinen.  Plants and flowers are used to soften the severely simple lines of the furniture.

The final third of the book is 'Decoration', and catalogues the new furniture (there's a delightful image of a Danish teak-veneered bookcase and desk from Heal's, accompanied by the words 'How useful for David to have a desk and me to have a storage cabinet and a bookcase and a bureau - and really outstanding, upstanding flower stand.  I do hope David won't mind.') patterns, colours and textiles.  There are patterns for Heal's and Liberty, wallpapers for Sanderson and Cole & Son, and of course House & Garden's range of colours, for, throughout the Fifties, the magazine created it's own paint which it updated annually and marketed through a number of stockists.  

Indeed, House & Garden was as much a style-setter as it was a chronicler of the age, for it was in large part due to the magazine that the trend for using brightly coloured paint on walls and furniture took off.  "As the Fifties drew to a close, the foundations had been laid for a new wave of brighter, modern interiors.  More was to come.  Roll on the Sixites."  

Roll on the next book, too; I'm longing for the next instalment. 


Fifties House by Catriona Gray is published by Conran Octopus, you can order a copy here.