Lost houses, surviving pictures

A recent visit to an acquaintance's gallery reminded me of how many houses have been lost over the centuries; not just great country houses and castles but many more humble dwellings.  What this means to the landscape is significant.  It changes the views over the horizon, from the car window, along the footpath and walking down any city or village street.

From an interior design perspective it changes the way we view and use rooms.  The current penchant for open plan living/dining is actually an ancient way of living - but not many ancient structures in England exist to illustrate this - or if they do they are draughty museum preserved rooms minus the mod cons we consider necessities for living well and comfortably today.  If they are not preserved in aspic then they have been repurposed as comfortable rooms, perhaps still large but without lofty ceiling heights. If they are ruins, our imagination cannot often grasp what once was there.

Here are just a few examples of lost houses we've seen and considered of late.

Halsnead Hall, built in 1684, was Sir John Soane's only Lancashire country house, altered by Richard Willis in 1789.  Although drawings survive at the Soane Museum, the house was demolished in 1932.   The painting is attributed to Charles Vincent Barber, a landscape painter from Birmingham who exhibited at The Royal Academy.  Halsnead Hall is at Miles Wynn Cato, picture dealer specialising in Welsh and British pictures.  The house here is undoubtedly grand with its classical portico, but in this picture related to the park surrounding it in a way that gives the painting a pleasing dreamlike quality, the trees and cattle naturalistically represented, reminiscent of Constable. 

View of Halsnead Hall, Lancashire.

A contemporary image depicts the romantic ruin of Clun Castle in South Shropshire.  Built by Robert de Say, this motte and bailey castle was an important stronghold along the Welsh Marches.  Later it was in the hands of the Fitzalan family and continued to be strategically important.  When the family abandoned it as a residence in favour of the more modern and comfortable Arundel, it was used as a hunting lodge before eventually falling into disrepair. What interests me is the powerful effect it has on the landscape and the village of Clun.  The castle commands attention still and in a way, diminishes what is around it, its original purpose still apparent.  This bold image, its outline crudely represented in linocut, backlit by a sulphurous light, captures the visual impact of the building's form.

A contemporary linocut and collage by artist Druscilla Cole

This picture of Horseheath Hall in Cambridgeshire, painted by John Inigo Richards, can be viewed at Daniel Hunt Gallery in London and is a slightly naive painting which appears to have grown around an architectural perspective of the house.  It gives the viewer the impression of being let in on a secret world of beauty and leisure.  The house was originally built in the 1660s by Sir Roger Pratt and had later additions (1720s) and interiors by William Kent, additions that contributed to the mounting debt of the incumbent.

The house was sadly pulled down in the 1770s. All that remains today are a few stately cedars to mark the spot as one wanders along the footpath to enjoy the prospect.  Even the once verdant parkland is covered over with field, its pleasure grounds disappeared beneath the plough and burrows of rabbits.   A pair of large iron gates from the estate were sold to Cambridge and now grace the rear entrance of Trinity College.

Hunting in the grounds of a Horseheath Hall

The farm house depicted below with a few of its barns was a family home.  When I commissioned this painting I gave the artist complete freedom to paint the story he envisioned.  He was armed only with the land survey together with aerial photographs of the house that had been lost to fire in the 1970s.  The composition diminishes the house, subjugating it to its land.  It was actually a very large building, a typical farm house of its time with wide sheltering porches and large, simple rooms.  The artist's view was that the house was submissive to the land, hostage to the vagaries of the weather, the fate of farming, and the eventual fire that would return the building to the earth.  He painted a tear in a window nodding to the loss to the family.  Ironically its demise came at a time of prosperity, its loss due to careless painters working on its exterior.  This house stood for only two hundred years, but the thousands of acres around it are still farmed.  The miles of whitewashed fences once painted annually are gone.  The enormous timber barns, all vanished.  The enormous elms that once lined the mile long drive a receding memory.

 Farm, painted by David Moore Smith

What these pictures share is an idealised vision of something, a moment in time captured for the viewer, a moment that has long passed. Either the owners fell into debt so the houses had to be sold, or they chose to move to a more hospitable or indeed fashionable environment. What will pictures like these of contemporary houses look like to us in the future? Will we long for the past when we view them? Will the hopes and aspirations of the owners shine through, or will the devastation that befell these examples be apparent?

Eliza Pinckney and the Indigo Trail

As Lieutenant Governor of Antigua, Colonel George Lucas must have had every intention of setting up one of his sons to run his three plantations in the American colonies. He could not have imagined that his sixteen year old daughter, educated in England with French, drawing and music, would ever need to draw upon botany, her best loved subject, to run the family’s plantations upon the death of his wife and his recall to Antigua during the War of Jenkins’ Ear.

"I beg here to acknowledge particularly my obligation to you (father) for the pains and money laid out in my education, which I esteem a more valuable fortune than any you could have given me, as I hope it will tend to make me happy thru my future life, and those in whom I am most nearly concerned" (Pinckney, xi)

Whatever her schooling prepared her for, it certainly would not have been the challenges of caring for a large slave population in a brutal climate, mortgaged plantations, crop failures, and hostilities abounding from all sides, all whilst endeavouring to maintain a genteel facade.

Despite her tender age and deep longing to return to English society, she plunged in to the life of a plantation owner, experimenting with many different crops including silk, figs, flax, and hemp.

This dress was woven out of silk from the Pinckney plantation and made for Eliza Pinckney in London
whilst the family were in residence there.

By 1738 she managed to grow a modestly successful crop of the notoriously difficult to cultivate indigo. Her hope was to circumvent the French, who heavily taxed the crop they grew in the West Indies, and to provide the English textile industry with this highly sought after deep blue purple dye.

Used since ancient times, indigo was introduced to England by a wealthy secular community for ink, paint, and cloth dyeing. It was a costly and superior alternative to European woad. Despite sabotage from her island competitors, Eliza proved so successful at developing this labour intensive crop that by the 1740s indigo accounted for over a third of the colony’s exports and was successfully cultivated on various plantations, with her help and support, throughout the South Carolina Sea Islands.

This late eighteenth century resist printed indigo American quilt was pictured in Florence Petit's book "America's Indigo Blues" and is now being sold for a substantial amount by an American dealer.  It is hard to imagine now but the making of this quilt may have taken as much as six months and used an amount of indigo more pricey than gold

Perhaps because of her independence she was at liberty to entertain Charles Pinckney as a suitor, and was married to the widower, who helped her maintain her interests in their plantations, numbering seven in total. They returned to England to Ripley in Surrey to live in 1753, planning to stay for at least the tenure of her two sons’ educations. Alas these plans were cut short as the war with France hastened her husband’s return to the Carolinas to protect their financial interests.

Upon their return he was immediately struck with fever and died, leaving Eliza largely friendless, her family far away in the Islands and her two sons in England, in debt with the plantations that had been run down in their absence, her hopes of returning to England dashed.

The spire of St. Philip's, Charleston, est. 1680 is one of the oldest surviving and continually in use Anglican churches in North America. Photo taken near Charles Pinckney's grave.

Although she maintained a lifelong correspondence with her English friends, modestly stating in many letters how her main entertainments were her books and a few neighbours, there was no turning back and she pressed forward, working tirelessly to promote her sons in the new colonial society and hold on to whatever property remained. Her sons eventually returned from England, her son Thomas eventually becoming the American Minister to Britain. Her powerful friends included George Washington, who would be her guest at Hampton Plantation in 1792 just before her death.

Hampton Plantation, 35 miles west of Charleston, SC where Eliza Pinckney spent her later years.
The Adams style portico was added in honour of George Washington's visit, hero of the revolutionary war that destroyed her crops and her livelihood.

Holiday Greetings

December is a month where normally sensible people begin to talk too fast, drive too fast and become unaccountably irritable at the slightest provocation.  As a child I adored the magic of Christmas.  I was an only child with adoring mother, aunts, and a grandmother who managed to effortlessly create incredible magic for the holidays, all month long.  She smiled and sang from the moment she rose in the morning until the moment she fell asleep with her spectacles on late at night from sheer contentment and exhaustion.

I wish I could say that my household is that serene and beautiful.  It is not.  But I do believe in the magic of the season and the opportunities it provides to draw people together.  After fifteen years of my husband grumbling I think he finally believes it too… Whatever you believe, the holiday season represents a time of going from the darkness back into the light, a time where things are magically transformed, a time of rebirth.

Our modest gift to all of you is to share some favourite images from our archives of this season of blessings, splendour, generosity of spirit and memories…  Thank you for supporting us in every way throughout 2013.  We wish all of our readers peace and joy through the holidays and beyond.

Some of our accessories on display at a recent fundraiser.
Who could resist a winter jasmine candle finished with our handmade
passementerie and fabrics or silk satin lined faux fur bags...

My good fortune at viewing this one off piece by Sophie & Georgie
Art Furniture at Serena Morton's new gallery in Notting Hill

A mammoth Chihuly at Halcyon London.  Must find it the perfect hall...

The back hall at Christmas

This Rock Crystal Ewer, circa 1000-1050, on display
at the V&A was carved out of a single piece of stone and
once covered with gold mounts and other precious things. I long for it...

What a whimsical way to transform screening and security in Mayfair

Yeoman proudly modelling our silk velvet
Boleyn in his summer grazing

The church of St Jason and St Sosipatros, a Byzantine survivor
just outside of Corfu town in Garitsa

The Nativity by Conrad von Soest (1403)

Fragments of frescos at the church of St Jason and St Sosipatros

Epitaphiou at St Jason and St Sosipatros

St Philip's church spire Charleston SC, USA, a crisp winter's day

Another fantastic miracle of construction!
My son Hugo's snowmen representing each member of the family!

Christmas tree awash with pink camellias.
Although they only lasted three days it was worth it.

Robert and Renée with Killian-Dawson's Silbury linen in the background.  

Client Contractor Relationships - creating a great rapport with your builder

One of the most painful sights in our business is watching a beautiful renovation or construction project degenerate into an acrimonious dispute between the client and their builder or contractor. Sadly, it happens all too often; as the interior designers we often find ourselves caught in the middle.

Whilst it's uncomfortable to be in this position, it does mean that we are often the one party who can see all sides of the picture. With this in mind, we thought we'd suggest some steps clients and builders can both take to minimise the chances of going down this road. After all, stress and anxiety aside, wouldn't you rather spend the last £10,000 in your budget on an exquisite sculpture, a pair of antique lamps or hand embroidered cushions than a series of last minute changes or even worse, increasingly acrimonious solicitors letters?

Restraint of pen and tongue could leave room in the purse for this
powerful sculpture in copper repoussé by Robert Kuo

We'll start by looking at things from the perspective of the contractor. According to Simon Lewis, Managing Director of building contractor RW Armstrong, "the primary reason that a relationship breaks down between a contractor and a client is a lack of meaningful communication".

Now is the time, before you've embarked upon the project and while everyone is still on friendly terms, to set out the ground rules, to ask the tough questions, to have the potentially difficult conversations. If you can set out both parties' expectations in writing and stick to them, so much the better.

By far the biggest bugbear of the contractors we've spoken to is a lackadaisical attitude amongst clients towards timing. In the words of Simon Lewis, "there is a lack of understanding of the importance of making firm decisions in good time. The contractor quite often needs information weeks, sometimes as much as six months, in advance of the materials ever being needed on site."

For example, you may think you don't need to settle on a precise stone, wood or carpet flooring until the three week lead time the supplier needs for delivery and installation, but the thickness of the material you choose will have a direct impact on the thickness of the concrete screed beneath, or possibly even the cabinetry.

Worse, by far, than the client who won't make timely decisions is the one who constantly changes their mind. Not only does it cause mayhem with the contractor and subcontractors, as well as unnecessary expense, it is deeply depressing for craftsmen who have to rip out work they have laboured over and start again. As for your chance of remaining on schedule, forget it.

Remember, it's not just you who is being affected by the resulting delays. Subcontractors and craftsmen have been scheduled in, and they may well have turned down other jobs only to find themselves kicking their heels as a result of the client's vacillation.  The client may then be surprised and hurt when they turn up on site and detect a slightly frosty atmosphere.

A clear vision, well planned and
provided for equals vibrant,
on-time on-budget results

On the subject of cost, there will almost certainly be a spread between the tenders clients receive from different contractors. Clients should resist the temptation to go for the cheapest or take the safe option and plunk for the one in the middle, and probe a little further. There are many variables that could explain the spread. A firm might have higher overheads, but this could include specialists with long experience who will predict problems and come up with solutions, and consequently the quality of the work will be higher, last longer and have a knock on effect on the morale on site. A firm may be more established, or have good relationships with planners and inspectors that will make the project progress through the various stages more smoothly.

When comparing quotes, some of the most important detective work for the client involves going over each line item in the Scope of Work document. Nowhere is the devil in the detail more than here. It's no good saying Builder X's quote is £50,000 less than Builder Y's and dismissing Y out of hand. Where has Builder X managed to shave that £50k? What corners has he cut to come in so low? Does the specification for bathroom tiles, for instance, or cornicing and cabinetry, seem suspiciously reasonable? If so, he may have found you a great bargain, but equally his expectations about the quality of the fit in your home may be significantly out of line with yours. Ask questions. Probe further before you make a decision, not after. Don't allow yourself to fall into the trap of hearing what you want to hear and tuning out the rest.

So often, clients have come to us excited about creating their dream bathroom, primed up to tour the marble yards, showing us pages ripped out of World of Interiors or a House & Garden feature on some new state of the art Swedish taps. Only when they tell us how much they or their builder have/has allowed for these items do we see their faces drop when we tell them this will extend to the type of sanitary ware more usually associated with the lavatories of a fast food restaurant. Or the taps are perfectly in budget until you allow for the ID (interior dimensions) difference in the fittings and the standard UK pipes.  As ever, it's about communicating your desires and expectations clearly and timely.

Meticulous planning results in a no compromise finish

Clients can all too easily get overwhelmed when a contractor starts throwing information at them and demanding decisions on all manner of items that according to one contractor, "they haven't even begun to think about". What kind of electric switches do you want?  What lighting for the bathroom? Will you be having a hand held shower, a rainforest head, or a spa shower? A good interior designer with their years of experience and vast resources will guide clients through the process.  Sadly it is often at this late stage we are approached by clients pulling their hair out. Really, we'd have preferred to have had the conversations six months earlier whilst the client was just beginning to choose their team and in that luscious creative cocoon phase where anything really is possible; but better late than not at all. Decisions made in a rush are generally ones the client will come to regret, where they are more likely to want to change their minds, and where ultimately they will go over budget.  Why not spend the money getting what one really desires in the first place instead of on variance orders?

Next time, we'll be looking at the relationship from the perspective of the client and asking what contractors and project managers can do to see a project from the client's perspective...



 

Interiors - to conserve or restore?

Continuing our topic of Conservation vs Restoration, there is a mind boggling amount of information and misinformation widely available online, through television series, magazines and educational facilities.  Where conservation is mostly about repair, maintaining and protecting what is already there, restoration is more about making what's old new again, and perhaps even stamping a fresh identity onto a building or a room.

Photo of Church Farm House, Hampshire, courtesy of Savills

What a conservationist might see when sweeping up the gravel drive of a 17th century farmhouse is evidence of brick repaired with cement, a damp course inserted and interfering with the house's breathability.  Or perhaps lead flashing sealed with mastic.  Or a perfect corner on an interior wall that is sure to be lined with a modern metal corner.  There is a damp patch repaired also with concrete near the front door in the entry hall that will need to be scooped out gently and refilled with lime plaster, acrylic paint peeling in the front hall near the skirting, a upvc window in the scullery that is affecting the breathability of the house... the list goes on.

What would a builder more attuned to clients who show him the latest issue of Architectural Digest see in the same building?  An opportunity to knock something down and start again perhaps?  Or to open up all the interior rooms, to treat the crumbling plaster with a dose of plaster board and a gypsum scrim coat to devise a more rational spot for a cloakroom?  To install warm double glazing at the back of the house where it may be allowed?  To chip off all the old lime plaster because a bit was crumbling and start again with gypsum, so much cheaper and easier with the new wiring going in...  and so it goes.

Every person who looks at a house will see it in a different way.  Most can no longer claim total ignorance of traditional building methods as television programmes feature everything from plasterers to medieval manor houses and thatchers, with everything in between and across all time lines.   I am the sort of person who becomes a quivering lovesick wreck when I see an abandoned building.  And when I move into a house I like to rough it and gradually repair, add, change, as seems necessary and appropriate.  I believe it takes time to get to know a house, its own quirks, wishes, desires, personality, just like a person.  Act too quickly and important messages may be lost or ignored.

Even with a comprehensive scheme for regenerating a listed or just ancient building and respecting the original fabric, many factors, such as budget, time, planning, covenanting, building regulations and conservation issues all come into play.

When, for example, we wished to turn a redundant building attached to our house into a library that was not listed but was in a conservation area, we painstakingly installed period appropriate hand blown leaded lights and wrought iron hardware made by the local blacksmith - we were praised by the conservation officer for respecting the nature of the main building but not slavishly copying what was already there.  However, we were then rebuked by the building regs officer who demanded double glazing and windows that opened to the front.  They would not be secure, but he said this was of no importance to my young family.  What was paramount was the consideration that a handicapped person may buy my home in future and need to get out these windows if there was a fire!

I may wish to repair each of the 49 sash windows in a Georgian old rectory, only to find that my plans clash with my green energy goals.  Do I put in secondary glazing and interlined curtains and hope for the best?  In many cases this is a perfect solution - but does it offend my aesthetic sense to have secondary glazing panels up in Autumn not coming off until Spring gently restores the temperature?

One architect we worked with in Charleston came up with an ingenious - although admittedly costly - solution for his own new house.  Secondary sash windows.  Difficult to clean but beautiful.  Sadly local planners no longer treat this as an acceptable solution, so it could not be done in a new building.

Architect Andrew Gould's House built in vernacular style  with double sash windows
(interior and colour consultation by Killian-Dawson)

...It is for all these buildings, therefore, of all times and styles, that we plead, and call upon those who have to deal with them, to put Protection in the place of Restoration, to stave off decay by daily care, to prop a perilous wall or mend a leaky roof by such means as are obviously meant for support or covering, and show no pretence of other art, and otherwise to resist all tampering with either the fabric or ornament of the building as it stands; if it has become inconvenient for its present use, to raise another building rather than alter or enlarge the old one; in fine to treat our ancient buildings as monuments of a bygone art, created by bygone manners, that modern art cannot meddle with without destroying... William Morris, part of the manifesto of the Society for the Protection of Ancient Buildings (SPAB)

When television programmes bombard us with exciting new kitchens and clean modern, dust free interiors produced as rabbits from the hats of restoration, the above can seem harsh, indeed impossible to achieve, not to mention limiting our creative capacities and some would say, a building's chance for survival.  After all, isn't a building a sort of organism that is an extension of each time it in, its use changing, its looks changing as each generation leaves it's mark?

I do not have the answers but I do believe it is vital to consider each thing we do to an old building very carefully before attacking it with sledgehammers and acid, and a large team of builders with power tools, serving up contemporary to suit our current view of what we see in magazines and shop windows, or even other friends' kitchens.  Fashion continually alters.  If I walk into an old rectory and find I have been duped and the interior is a modern spotlit, smooth walled chrome and stainless steel mass complete with smart systems, I must confess I feel shocked and sometimes a bit cheated.   The fantasy of living in an old building is not the same as the reality.  Sometimes the inhabitants would be better served to spread their wings and build something new.   Buildings once altered cannot be returned to their previous state, achieved only through time.  We must be careful not to destroy what we fall in love with.

The great debate: restoration vs conservation

As we've all revelled in the long overdue summer sunshine, we thought we'd turn our attention to a topic that's guaranteed to get people hot under the collar: the restoration versus conservation debate.

Anyone who turns their attention to an historic or period property will soon be confronted by this. It's a highly emotionally charged issue. How often, for instance, have you heard of someone who has lovingly invested millions bringing an old behemoth back to life, only to have a neighbour sneer at how they've wrecked it?  Or, admired the mirror sheen on a piece of lacquered furniture to be told "the patina's been destroyed.  They sanded and refinished it."

English japanned cabinet at Mount Stewart, County Down, photo John Hammond,
similiar to the cabinet described above that was recently conserved

Saving something that was on the verge of disintegration for future generations to enjoy, or vandalising an irreplaceable national treasure beyond redemption? Or as is often the case, just trying to make a not particularly valuable piece of furniture pretty and useful again.  Perhaps it would help if we look at what the different sides are trying to achieve.

I have a japanned cabinet on stand in mind as I write this. It is eighteenth century, quite rare and very beautiful from a slight distance. Upon closer inspection the surface is heavily flaking, including the over painted chinoiserie designs, there are several poorly repaired breaks, the plain finished back is warped and starting to draw apart, affecting the stability of the piece, and the top of the chest is also beginning to separate causing the piece to look slightly bowed from the top.  As if that weren't enough to worry about, several pieces of the unusual mother of pearl inlay have popped out due to expansion and contraction from the climate extremes the piece has been subjected to for the two hundred years of its life.

Do I conserve the piece, which means to stabilise and possibly clean whilst disturbing the existing finish and fabric as little as possible, using as many reversible materials as possible? Or do I restore it, which may involve the radical step of renewing the finish whilst probably retaining some of it at the back or underneath as a clue for future restorers, replace pieces at the back where necessary and replace bits of perished inlay, remove the top and try to level it through various methods, etc? What I will then have is a very beautiful object that will also be far more robust - but will its value be affected by it not being in original condition?

This Victorian armchair at centre of photo was in bits in the barn when the
owner purchased the plantation.  Restored and reupholstered it is fit for purpose as
a comfortable reading chair in the master bedroom.  c Killian-Dawson Ltd

This is a subjective debate as salerooms and buyers continually prove. It seems to me that provenance plays a central role in assessing the value of objects that at times seem very ordinary - such as nursery furnishings from the Chatsworth attic sale several years ago which commanded inflated prices compared to the market as a whole.  It also depends on the market; some markets prefer an object to look like new and that element may increase the sale value in a particular sector.  Every sale catalogue mentions "later repairs".

Whatever the point of view, it is still an essential discussion. Conservator William Marshall, for many years manager of the restoration workshop at Hyde Park Antiques commented, "in my view the object of restoration is to bring back the beauty and function lost to time and damage without changing the piece. To make it look as though it was only dusted for 200 years."  My personal opinion varies depending on the value of the item, the intended use and the owner/users point of view.  An organisation like The National Trust spends a substantial amount of its budget each year on conservation, which means mostly boring delicate cleaning, and controlling climate, uv light exposure and pests.

The fate of the cabinet on stand mentioned above is that a decision was taken to conserve rather than restore it.  This can be a more costly process and the final result may be disappointing aesthetically for anyone expecting the bling factor of a new or perfect eighteenth century example of japanned chest on stand.  We were thrilled to show the fading of colour and mottled finish, the raised areas and losses as it highlights this particular cabinet's journey through time to the present.  And the owners placed it in a dressing room where it would not be subject to heavy use or risk of excessive decay.

An original Queen Anne walnut secretary

The same piece, after restoration
by Guenther Wood Group

When these pieces were first made in England (a result of demand from the Orient outstripping supply), cabinetmakers John Stalker and George Parker published the "Treatise of Japanning and Varnishing" in1688.  It described in detail with drawings how to create this labour intensive and highly fashionable finish with different varnishes and gums.  It is even more laborious and expensive to stabilise an existing finish today - just doing the detective work of how exactly the finish was achieved can take many hours.  Is it worth it?  I believe the answer is yes, if you can afford it.  The honest patina acquired over several hundred years cannot be replicated and in most cases adds to the value of a carefully maintained piece of furniture.

However, if a piece of furniture has deteriorated to such a degree that it is no longer useful let alone beautiful then restoration is almost certainly the answer.

"Every antique, no matter how humble, has a very important story to tell about our cultural heritage."
Olaf Unsoeld, conservator

Next time we will examine the impact the restoration/conservation debate has had upon houses and the way we use them...

Return to the Gilded Age?

Last week saw us at Althorp for the occasion of their Literary Festival, now in its tenth year.  By festival standards it's an intimate and friendly gathering, which perhaps accounts for its ability to draw star names. We'd been invited there to meet Julian Fellowes, and enjoyed the special treat of hearing how he got his start in the movie business, about the twists and turns of Downton Abbey, and of meeting his stunning wife Emma.  After a lovely afternoon learning more about Althorp, meeting some of the staff, touring the grounds and grand reception rooms, we had a brief chat with Earl Spencer, who was appropriately self-deprecating about some of the recent repair and restoration achievements in the house and on the estate, the roof repair apparently made possible by his licensing agreement with furniture manufacturer Theodore Alexander.

l-r Robert and Renée Killian-Dawson, Emma Kitchener and Julian Fellowes
at the 10th Althorp Literary Festival

Replicas of key pieces in Althorp's furniture collection are reproduced for the wider market.  It is extraordinary to me how we have progressed culturally to such a greater dialogue in the world that secretaries and four poster beds, which in past centuries would have been enjoyed by no more than a few privileged guests and the staff curating them, can now be replicated and bought in places as far flung as San Francisco and Bangkok.  I was in Charleston when Earl Spencer was promoting these pieces five years ago and began to contemplate how anything goes culturally at this time in our history.

The entrance front of Althorp, transformed in the 1770s by celebrated architect Henry Holland.  The mathematical tiles or brick slips which clad the building, were chosen as a more cost effective alternative to white brick, hiding the original mellow Tudor brick beneath, showing that we are often slaves to fashion as they were used for the Prince Regent's residence in Brighton amongst many others.

Ideas, although they have always spread quickly in our quest for the new, now spread almost instantaneously through our hunger for the next thing.  When I asked Julian Fellowes what he longed to write next, I expected a charming but evasive answer.  Instead I was intrigued when he talked about his research into the Gilded Age and the ascendence of families like the Astors, Rockefellers and Vanderbilts over the old New York, America's upper class society, that keen social observers such as Edith Wharton examined so exhaustively. One wonders if he will be as sharp a critic and observer of them as he has been in his past novels about our own aristocracy, or whether he will create the television feel good factor that has so compelled us with Downton Abbey.

Reception in the Saloon at Althorp where the original stairs shown were once painted white
(the stair carpet is inverted, a device we occasionally employ to lend character). 

As a member of old New York society, Edith Wharton was in a unique position to be both critic of the nouveau families who commissioned more bling than Versailles in the court of Louis XV, a commentator on the times, and also a creator of her own home and gardens, The Mount, distinctively not gilded.  Based on seventeenth century English country houses such as Belton House in Lincolnshire, it was her personal design laboratory.

Grand Hall at The Breakers as it was rebuilt in the Italian Renaissance style in 1895 for Cornelius Vanderbilt epitomizes the Gilded Age's architectural exuberance, extravagance and liberality of design influence.  Descendants  of Cornelius Vanderbilt still occupy apartments on the third floor in Summer, as it is only leased by the Preservation Society of Newport County.

Wharton wrote over forty books, my personal favourite being The Age of Innocence, which was filmed in 1993 by Martin Scorcese starring Daniel Day-Lewis, Winona Ryder and Michelle Pfeiffer.  In the opening paragraph of the novel she describes "shabby old red and gold boxes in the old Academy vs the new Opera House", comparing the Patrician old families' preference for the old and worn to the bigger and better ethos of the new like social daggers warmly written.  She also wrote "The Decoration of Houses" with interior decorator Ogden Codman, which has become an American standard tome of design.

Pictured in The Library at The Breakers are Alice Gertrude and Gladys Vanderbilt.  The intimacy of the scene belies the grand scale of the room with its massive sixteenth century French chimney piece and even more massive scale.

So, will we move towards a new Gilded Age when the as yet unannounced work Julian Fellowes is in talks with NBC to create hits our screens?  Will Victorian bling, for so long unfashionable, return to enjoy a renaissance and a consequent spike in values? It is difficult to imagine in these tumultuous economic times and predominance of spare, clean decorative schemes.  I was reminded of the parallels though, when Julian Fellowes mentioned that during the Gilded Age, there were extraordinary social and economic changes taking place, many of them very difficult for entire swathes of society.  We tend to forget the painful things and hold on to what was bright and good and glamourous about any time.  Thus history repeats itself.