The Art of Gainage

Gainage.  No, it's not what happens to your body after, say, a holiday season spent eating fattening foods.  Rather, it's the term for the French style of upholstery in which fabric is applied to hard surfaces, such as moldings (see above) and furniture.  Although I've known about this type of intricate upholstery for years, I never knew what to call it. But thanks to the July-August issue of Veranda, I can now put a proper name to a technique that must take great skill, not to mention great patience.  According to Veranda, one of the leading firms that specializes in gainage is that of Charles Jouffre, a master upholsterer with workshops in Paris, Lyon, and New York.  One of Jouffre's notable clients is Chilean designer Juan Pablo Molyneux, whose work sometimes features gainage beds.  Can you imagine how luxurious it must be to sleep in a velvet-covered, four-poster bed?

I don't know if the late designer Alberto Pinto was a client of Charles Jouffre, but I do know that his green velvet-drenched dining room is a prime example of gainage.  Look closely at the photos below, and you'll see that his dining room's shell corner niche was completely covered in the same velvet that was applied to the walls.  And gainage beds can be found in a number of country houses in the U.K., including Dumfries House and Houghton Hall.  (I'm not sure if British craftsmen refer to this type of upholstery as gainage.  Perhaps they have an English term for it.)

Of course, not all gainage is as elaborate as fabric-wrapped state beds or corner niches.  Look at those David Hicks wall brackets, below, that were covered in the same claret-colored velvet that graced the room's walls.  Fabric-covered brackets are perhaps a more manageable way to indulge in the art of gainage.  (I know a clever New York designer who executed his own gainage brackets, which are most becoming.)  Or, you could simply hunt for an antique or vintage gainage table or cabinet.  The beauty of an old fabric-wrapped piece is that its fabric, likely velvet or silk, has patina, which only adds to the allure of gainage. 

Two different examples of gainage beds, which were designed by Juan Pablo Molyneux.

Two views of Alberto Pinto's dining room.  This has to be one of design history's most memorable dining rooms.

Both the walls and molding in this Georges Geffroy-decorated room were covered in green velvet.

Dumfries House's famous Chippendale bed, whose canopy cresting is covered entirely in blue damask. 

An early eighteenth-century tester bed in the Wentworth Bedroom of Milton, a country house in Cambridgeshire.  Recently restored, the bed is covered in a silk damask that is based on the bed's original fabric.

This William Kent-designed bed is located in the aptly-named Green Velvet Bedchamber at Houghton Hall.  The double-shell motif is a reference to Venus.

In this David Hicks-designed room, claret-colored velvet brackets match the room's walls.



Images #1 and #2 from Veranda, July-August issue; #7 from Town & Country, Harry Cory Wright photographer; #8 from The English Country House; #9 from English Country House Interiors; #10 from David Hicks Style and Design

Revisiting David Hicks Carpet

Around the time I started blogging, David Hicks's carpet designs were all the rage, just as they had been when first introduced decades ago.  Everywhere I looked, I saw hexagons, octagons, and the rest of Hicks's favored geometric shapes and patterns.  But because Mr. Hicks's designs were all anyone seemed to talk and blog about, I lost interest, choosing instead to focus on other topics that had not yet reached critical mass.

Almost ten years later, though, David Hicks carpet is back on my mind.  I was recently looking at photos of Hicks's later work, and I was reminded of the range of his carpet designs, many of which are no longer in production.  Take, for example, the carpet sample in the photo, seen above.  According to Suzanne Trocme's Influential Interiors, this Brussels weave carpet was produced by Avena carpets.  Like most of Hicks's floor-coverings, this carpet boasts a geometric pattern, but because it is small-scaled, it appears much less bold than some of his more famous designs .  The colorway is quite attractive, too.

Then take a look at the carpet in Hicks's Oxfordshire home, which can be seen in both the second and third photos, below.  This particular Hicks carpet possesses the verve for which the designer was so well-known, but its neutral tones help to tone down the swagger.  In fact, look how well the carpet works with those voluminous- and fetching- curtains. And speaking of fetching, what about that carpet in the blue bathroom, also seen below? Hicks originally created this carpet for the Prince of Wales, which explains the inclusion of the feather-motif within the overall octagonal pattern. If you look at the fifth photo, a scrapbook of David Hicks's carpet designs, you'll see a rendering of this Prince of Wales pattern, minus the feathers.

I've included a few additional photos that show other Hicksonian carpets and rugs, all of which I think are ripe for reissue.  To me, these examples have the flair and pizzazz that people still desire, but they're not quite as brazen as those designs that were all the rage almost a decade ago.

A Face from the Past: Billy McCarty

William "Billy" McCarty was once a bright young thing in the world of decorating.  Hailing from Miami, McCarty's career as a designer took off in Swinging Sixties' London, where, after briefly working for the great David Hicks, he opened his own design firm and landed such high-profile clients as the Marquess of Londonderry, Kenneth Tynan, and Vidal Sassoon Salons.  It was also in London where McCarty began affecting a British accent- at least, according to what I have read.

In 1971, McCarty raised his profile further- especially in America- thanks to both his first-prize win in the Burlington House Young Designer competition and his debut collection of fabrics and wallcoverings for Kirk-Brummel.  Titled "Noble Savage", the collection, which you can see above- that's McCarty standing among his designs- was a modern riff on American Indian motifs.  With names such as "Hopi", "Geronimo", "Shawnee", and "Seminole", the prints were McCarty's attempt to "give people another viewpoint into Indian designs.  I think one's eye has been dazzled by the super-plastic pop art thing, which is a definite chore to live with.  The idea here was a softer, more fluid look."  Looking at these designs forty-plus years after their debut, I'm not really sure that I would call these prints soft and fluid.  However, I suppose that if one compares them to the riotous patterns that were so popular in the late Sixties and early Seventies, one could say that McCarty's designs were not quite as harsh. 

Whether McCarty designed subsequent collections, I'm not sure.  But McCarty's design work was featured often in Architectural Digest during the Seventies and Eighties.  Take, for example, the London flat seen below.  Published in 1976, the home displayed a sophistication and a maturity that refrained from appearing too serious thanks to a profusion of patterned walls and ceilings.  But as he did with the rest of the décor, McCarty took a disciplined approach to pattern, choosing more or less one printed fabric per room.  The result is a home that is spirited, yet dignified, too.

As compelling as much of McCarty's work was, it was his personal life that also gained the designer attention.  As a young man in London, McCarty embarked on a relationship with the wealthy art collector, Douglas Cooper, who had previously been involved with Picasso biographer John Richardson.  Cooper eventually adopted McCarty as his son, a move meant to ensure that the designer would inherit Cooper's vast estate.  It also resulted in the designer changing his name to Billy McCarty-Cooper.  Sadly, around the time of Cooper's death in 1984, McCarty-Cooper learned that he had contracted AIDS, a disease to which the designer eventually succumbed in 1991.  Fortunately, his work lives on, at least in the pages of decades-old issues of Architectural Digest. 

*Click here to see a previous blog post that features McCarty's work during his David Hicks days.

McCarty/Kirk-Brummel photo and quotation from House Beautiful, June 1971; London flat photos from Architectural Digest, March/April 1976, Michael Nicholson photographer.

Have You Noticed?

Have you noticed that geraniums seem to bloom profusely inside many a charming English country house? They certainly did at Daylesford, the John Fowler-decorated house of Lord Rothermere, seen above.

And at Deene Park, Northamptonshire.

Nancy Lancaster had some scraggly ones at the Coach House.

More lush were those at Bentley in Sussex.

There were some tucked away near the bookshelves at Wellingham House.

Nicky Haslam has a basket full of them at his Hunting Lodge...

...while Lady Caroline Somerset chose a terracotta pot for her fiery crimson specimen.

David Hicks supercharged his Britwell House dining room with bold crimson walls and curtains and bright pink geraniums placed directly on the floor.

But what has to be one of the most charming displays of geraniums is seen in this bedroom, which was decorated by David Mlinaric.  The chintz? Colefax & Fowler's " Climbing Geranium", sadly discontinued.

Plum in Pink and Red

Unless you've been a recluse over the past week, you have likely seen photos of last week's Met Gala. I'm not going to get into too much detail about it except to say that my picks for the three best-dressed guests were Lauren Santo Domingo, Vanessa Traina, and Plum Sykes, all of whom work in the fashion world. Plum Sykes's decision to wear scarlet satin Manolo Blahniks with her pale pink column dress especially captured my attention because the color combination was a bit unexpected. And yet, it was really quite smashing, with Sykes's red shoes making her prim gown sing. It also reminded me of how much I love this color pairing. (I did not want to fool with obtaining permission from Getty Images to use their photo of Sykes, so you'll have to click here to see her stepping out to the Gala.)

Rarely do you see pink and red used together within the same room.  In fashion layouts, however, you do.  When standing alone, pink can appear slightly (or sometimes sticky) sweet.  But when dashes of red are thrown in for flavor, the effect can be sophisticated and effervescent.  Could this be why Babe Paley wore pink and red for her Round Hill, Jamaica portrait?

One interior designer who did mix the two colors together to great effect was David Hicks.  Hicks, however, took a brash approach to the pairing, using pinks that had vigor and swagger.  Cerises, scarlets, and magentas mingled to create rooms of bravado, fit for even the most manly of men.  If all of this sounds too swashbuckling, you could take your cue from Hicks (or even Mark Hampton, whose 1970s-era Manhattan apartment included a red and pink bedroom) but tone it down for more feminine sensibilities.  Paint a room's walls in lacquered aubergine and upholster its furnishings in pink silk and red damask.  I think that such a room would like really pretty...or, to use a phrase that gets on my nerves, such a room would look "very gala."

A 1962 Ormond Gigli photo of Halston back in his early days as a milliner.

Veruschka photographed in 1970 wearing a jeweled necklace and beaded red, pink, and white silk headdress.

A David Hicks-designed room in Yorkshire. The curtains are red tweed, while the chairs appear to be upholstered in red leather.  The table is covered in a fuschia silk cloth.

The Paris apartment of Rambert Rigaud. (Photo from Vogue, March 2013)

The Maharaja of Jaipur (photo by Constantin Joffe)

The dining room at Britwell Salome, decorated by David Hicks, was energized with cerise velvet-upholstered wingchairs and a red silk damask tablecloth.

The early Manhattan apartment of Mark and Duane Hampton. Their bedroom was decorated in shades of magenta and pink with some red thrown in for good measure.

Serge Obolensky photographed by Slim Aarons at the St. Regis Roof, New York. I can't really tell if the room was mostly pink or if there was some red somewhere (perhaps the ceiling?)


Photo of Paley and Obolensky from A Wonderful Time: An Intimate Portrait of the Good Life by Slim Aarons; Hicks and Hampton photos from David Hicks: Designer; Maharaja of Jaipur photo from The World in Vogue 1893-1963.

In Memoriam: Tom Parr

Last Friday, I learned that the great English decorator, Tom Parr, had died in late July. My friend Will Merrill emailed me a link to Parr's obituary in The Telegraph. (Click here if you would like to read it.) A short time later, Toby Worthington also emailed me a link to The Telegraph article. What strange timing that many of us learned of his death a week after the obituary was published and more than a month after his death.

Parr was, to borrow Toby Worthington's description, "one of the last of the gentleman decorators." (According to his obituary, Parr preferred the term "decorator" to "interior designer.") After making a splash on the design scene with an early partnership with David Hicks, Parr went on to become Chairman of the venerable British design firm Colefax and Fowler.

I have featured Parr's work in past blog posts, but I think we should revisit it. His work possessed such finesse. His attention to detail, whether it be in the elaborate edging of a curtain or a decorative finish on a chair, lent polish to his interiors. And what is even more refreshing is that his design schemes don't appear to have been crafted for the sole purpose of publication. Rather, he worked to give his clients comfortable and refined environments in which to live with ease.

It seems too that Parr could be quite witty. When discussing suitability in design, he once said "What is maddening is when people want something that cannot be done in a particular space. Some people buy a cottage in the country and want it to look like a Hollywood villa. And there's that awful idea of putting double basins in a very small bathroom. Why? What is the point, unless the people are going to have a race to see who can do their teeth first." Good point and one that I had never considered before.

Below is a brief survey of his some of his interiors. Unfortunately, my library seems to be lacking in books featuring Parr's work. Thanks to Mr. Worthington's impressive design library, we were able to flesh this post out with some memorable examples.







The images above, including the photo at top, show Parr's flat in Eaton Square. Note that striking carpet in photos #3 and #4; named "Rocksavage", it's a replica of the carpet at Cholmondeley Castle.




A more recent photo of Parr in the famous Yellow Room at Colefax and Fowler. It was Parr who, in the early 1960s, recommended that the firm purchase the lease to their showroom at 39 Brook Street in Mayfair. The showroom remains at that location today.




A drawing room in a Swiss villa that was decorated by Parr. Again, "Rocksavage" carpet was used. According to Mr. Worthington, the velvet was stamped in Parr's favorite "Sans Gene" pattern.




Parr also designed a converted vicarage home for the Earl and Countess of Wilton.






Designed by Parr in the late 1960s, the decor of the drawing room at Easton Grey (an 18th century house owned by Didi and Peter Saunders) still looks fresh today.




A drawing room in a stone manor house near Bath that was decorated by Parr.





In this bedroom at Chicheley Hall in Buckinghamshire, Parr created a lighter look by painting the room's original c. 1720 paneling in tones of blue. "Charlotte" chintz was used throughout the room.



The dining room in "The Cottage" at Badminton. Parr decorated it for the Somersets before David Somerset became Duke of Beaufort, at which time the family moved into the grander Badminton House. The Duke and Duchess of Beaufort were long-time clients of Parr.



A Parr decorated drawing room at Albany, London.



A more exotic Parr scheme in the Turkish Room at a Mayfair flat. The chairs were Colefax copies of an 18th c. century chair bought by Parr at Sotheby's 25 years earlier.


The first four photos of Parr's Eaton Square flat are from Living in Vogue by Judy Brittain and Patrick Kinmonth. Image #5 from a 1994 World of Interiors brochure published in conjunction with Colefax & Fowler; Jan Baldwin photographer. Images 6-12 from The House and Garden Book of Classic Rooms . Photos of the Chicheley Hall bedroom and the dining room at "The Cottage" at Badminton are from Colefax & Fowler: The Best in English Interior Decoration. Albany drawing room plus Parr quote from World of Interiors, September 1984, James Mortimer photographer. Last two photos of Turkish Room from World of Interiors, August 1987. I would like to thank Toby Worthington for providing me with most of these images.