The Old-Fashioned Powder Room

One of the many things I love about 1930s-era issues of House & Garden and House Beautiful is the attention given to rooms that once epitomized sophisticated living. Take, for example, the powder room.  The powder room of yesteryear was a slightly different affair from today's powder room, which is basically a small guest bathroom with a sink and toilet.  But back in the 1930s, the term "powder room" referred to a small dressing room that allowed ladies to powder their noses and touch-up their lipstick in privacy.  Frequently outfitted with little more than a dressing table and chair, the thirties powder room rarely functioned as a lavatory.  That role was left to the guest bathroom, which was typically, though not always, located adjacent to the powder room.  (Take a look at the photos below, and you'll see that none of the powder rooms had sinks nor toilets.)  However, space obviously dictated both the arrangement and the location of a powder room, because I have seen examples of old powder rooms with sinks as well as powder rooms- sans sink and toilet- situated far apart from a bathroom.  Suffice to say, not all powder rooms were alike. 

Just as they do today, decorators of the thirties-era understood that small spaces beg for outsized decorating.  Look at the photos below, and you'll see that feminine touches abounded. (These spaces were, after all, dedicated to women and their personal grooming.)  Swags, of both the wallpaper and fabric varieties, seemed practically a requirement for powder rooms, as did mirror, which was used on both walls and glamorously-appointed dressing tables.  Pairs of small dressing-table lamps were ubiquitous in powder rooms, while perfume bottles, powder boxes, and brush sets ensured that ladies were equipped to refresh themselves.

I suspect that the Second World War rendered the old-fashioned powder room somewhat obsolete, because by the 1940s, magazines, having moved on to more practical domestic issues, devoted little if any space to the powder room.  In fact, I wonder if the war and its subsequent housing and domestic-staff shortages meant that the powder room became a luxury that few houses could accommodate.  Perhaps it was the post-war era that saw the powder room joining space and function with the guest bathroom, becoming the powder room that we know today.  I'm not sure, and I need to investigate further.  But what I do know is that the old-fashioned powder room, like those other lost-to-history rooms such as the cocktail room and the telephone room, harks back to a time when function and style often went hand-in-hand.  After all, if one must powder one's nose or talk on the telephone, why not do so in style?       

        

This powder room appeared in House Beautiful's "Bride's House" show house in 1934.  The room's wallpaper had a pink background with pink and blue ribbons printed on it.  The chiffon draperies surrounding the mirror were blue, in keeping with the pink and blue color scheme.  According to the magazine, the white fur rug provided "a final bit of feminine fluff."

A mid-1930s powder room, which was decorated by Mimi Durant.  The wallpaper was red and white, while the material covering the dressing table was black cellophane.  How fabulous was that?

This powder room, which dates to the mid-1930s, was located in a house in Morristown, New Jersey.  Decorated by Margery Sill Wickware, the room had beige wallpaper with a coral, green, and cream swag drapery border.  The dressing table had a green taffeta skirt, while a henna-colored carpet covered the floor.

A Thedlow-decorated ladies powder room from 1935.  The color scheme was gray, royal blue, and white.  Crystal accessories, including the pair of lamps, the oval mirror, the ceiling fixture, and even the curtain tiebacks, added a note a glamour and femininity to the space.

Two of design history's most memorable- and sublime- powder rooms were those at the homes of the Kersey Coates Reeds and the James D. Zellerbachs. Both powder rooms were decorated by Frances Elkins.

This ladies' lounge, decorated by Miles Redd and located at a Houston house, is a more recent example of a powder room, though one designed on a much larger scale. (Architectural Digest, Thomas Loof photographer.)

Mad About Maugham

I just finished reading Syrie Maugham, Pauline Metcalf's new book on one of the twentieth century's most innovative designers. It was high time that Syrie got a book of her own. Actually, Richard Fisher wrote a book on Syrie back in the late 1970s, but that one is both hard to find and quite expensive. I had to resort to photocopying the Fisher book at my neighborhood library. At least I own Metcalf's book.

Like so many of the Acanthus Press books that I've read, Syrie Maugham is very much a catalogue raisonne of the decorator's work through the decades. There were some Maugham rooms that I was familiar with, but many were new to me too. Of course, Maugham's famous Kings Road all-white drawing room is featured in the book (it's on the cover, too); after all, this was the room that got Maugham noticed by the press and the public on both sides of the Atlantic. But what many people don't realize is that Maugham also used color- vivid color- in much of her work, and this is a point that Metcalf drives home with such examples as the living room of Ina and William Wallace and even Maugham's later residence at Chesham Place. In addition to color, other Maugham hallmarks include tufted upholstery (Syrie never overlooked comfort), sleigh beds, mirrored screens, fringe, and fabulous window pelmets, all of which are seen throughout the book.

Another interesting point made by Metcalf is that at times, Maugham's work "overlapped" with that of Elsie de Wolfe, Frances Elkins (someone with whom Maugham occasionally collaborated), and even Dorothy Draper. Look at photos of all four designers' work and you'll see the influence that each one had on the other.

I know that there are those of us who are fascinated by the history of design and those who are only interested in photographs of gorgeous rooms. No matter which camp you're in, I think this book will be well received by both. After reading it, you'll realize that Syrie Maugham was not just a one trick pony. Although she'll be best remembered for that white room and pickled furniture, she did so much more than that. Thanks to Metcalf for showing us that.



The famous all-white party room at Maugham's Kings Road home c. 1932. Once this look ran its course, Maugham was smart enough to go in a different direction and decorate her home in a whole new way:



Vogue Regency in the Entrance Hall at Chesham Place, Maugham's address from 1937 to 1939. If I didn't know better, I might think that this space was decorated by Dorothy Draper.



Rose wallpaper struck a colorful note in the entrance hall at yet another Maugham home, this one at 24 Park Lane.



And one more example of rich color, this time in the living room of William Wallace and his wife, actress Ina Claire. This space dates to the early 1940s.



I find this Maugham decorated drawing room so charming, and I just had to include it because this home belonged to Lady Rose Leveson-Gower and her husband; she was the older sister to the late Queen Mum.



The Manhattan apartment of Grace and Harry Payne Bingham. If only I had traditional windows in my apartment, I would copy that pelmet in a heartbeat.


(All images courtesy of Syrie Maugham by Pauline C. Metcalf, Acanthus Press publishers.)

Mad for Marion

Thanks to the non-drowsy decongestant I've been taking all weekend, I've been a little too revved-up to sleep. A little annoying, but on the bright side, I've redecorated my apartment...at least, in my mind. I've decided that I need a small rug in my dressing room. I already have a nice wool, Wilton weave carpet in there right now (I'm a big fan of wall-to-wall carpet in bedrooms, closets, and dressing areas), but I think a throw rug would add some zip to the space. After all, a minimalist wardrobe, though chic on the body, is too subtle to do much in the way of decoration.

So what would be perfect in my dressing area is a Marion Dorn rug. I mean, if you're going to daydream, you might as well shoot for the stars. It would certainly be in keeping with the loose 1930s look that I'm going for. And if they were good enough for Syrie Maugham and Frances Elkins- both fans of Dorn's work- they are more than good enough for me.

(Speaking of Maugham, don't forget that Pauline Metcalfe's much anticipated book, Syrie Maugham, is being released in a few weeks. Look for a review here soon.)



This Dorn rug, c. 1930, was sold at Christie's for around $4300. The pale tones would be perfect for my room's color scheme of pinks, grays, and creams. The zig-zag design is reminiscent of the Dorn rug in Mrs. Celia Tobin Clark's bedroom (c. 1929-31; seen at the top of this post), a room decorated by Syrie Maugham.



Frances Elkins chose this beige and off-white Dorn rug for the bedroom of Ruth Winslow. The rug was a nice modern counterpoint to the traditional French floral chintz.




How chic was the Lounge at Claridge's Hotel, c. 1930? Decorated by Oswald Milne, the space was a combination of Art Deco and Modernist decor. The black and cream geometric patterned rug was, yes, by Dorn.



Another stylish room decorated by Maugham, this time the London drawing room of Mr. Robin Wilson. I wonder if that was a Dorn designed rug?



This Dorn work is/was available at a rug dealer in Paris.



Not quite the right colors for my dressing area, but this Dorn rug- auctioned off by Sotheby's- is certainly enchanting.

(Clark image from David Adler, Architect: The Elements of Style, Martha Thorne editor; Elkins image from Frances Elkins: Interior Design by Stephen Salny. Claridge's photo from Martin Battersby's The Decorative Thirties; Wilson drawing room photo from The Great Lady Decorators: The Women Who Defined Interior Design, 1870-1955 by Adam Lewis.)

Avedon, Stars, and Style

I think that I'm predisposed towards interiors, fashion, food, celebrities, and the cognoscenti of yesteryear. Perhaps it's genetics, or maybe I was born in the wrong era. I don't know, but it really does seem that style- an individual sense of style, that is- was more prevalent "back then". Seeing an actress today, for example, schlepping her Starbucks cup while wearing Uggs just kind of ruins it for me. You know what I mean?

A book that seems to drive this point home is one that a photographer friend gave me recently- Performance: Richard Avedon, a compilation of his photos of performers. Noel Coward is in it as well as Diana Vreeland (if blog posts are any indication, we still revere this woman today.) Hepburn (both of them), Porter, Nureyev, and Capote also make appearances.

So, without further ado, here are a few images that caught my eye. And as I couldn't resist adding a design twist to this post, I'm also including a few images of their respective homes- just to help prove my point that these luminaries did have quite a sense of style.

Was there anyone with as much flair as Cole Porter?


Well, yes, but it wasn't a "who" but rather a "what": his Billy Baldwin designed apartment in Waldorf Towers.

If there was anyone who could give Porter a run for his money in terms of wit and a way with words, it was Noel Coward.


One might have expected his London home (shown here in 1937) to be frothy, but instead it's a bit rustic around the edges.

We all remember Edward G. Robinson as the cinema's ultimate mobster.


But did you know that he also had a renowned collection of Impressionist paintings, shown off to great effect in his Beverly Hills home? His home, by the way, was the handiwork of Samuel Marx and Frances Elkins. I bet that Little Caesar would never had had such elegant digs.

Rex Harrison. Leave it to "Sexy Rexy"...


...to have such a sexy dining room courtesy of Keith Irvine.

They say that Marlene Dietrich was the ultimate hausfrau. You certainly would not have known that by looking at this photograph.



You wouldn't have known it by her palatial Beverly Hills home, either.


(All portraits from Performance: Richard Avedon. Porter home photo from Billy Baldwin Decorates; Coward home photo from a 1937 issue of Arts & Decoration. Robinson home from UltraModern: Samuel Marx Architect, Designer, Art Collector; Harrison dining room shot from Keith Irvine: A Life in Decoration. Dietrich photo from House Beautiful, 9/2001.)

No Regifting Necessary

I have a birthday coming up this week. Now, I'm not announcing this because I'm seeking well wishes from you. Actually, I don't like to make a big deal of it. (I swear.) It just seemed like an appropriate segue to a post about gifts.

Have you read the 1985 book Only the Best: A Celebration of Gift Giving in America by Stuart E. Jacobson? It's a charming book which recounts gift giving amongst the rich and famous. Oh sure, there are anecdotes about gifts of largesse that will make your head spin (a Newport estate, anyone?) But, it's not really about that. It's more a celebration of the thought and meaning that has gone into some truly special gifts. Take, for example, the trash can below filled with daisies:

When Steve McQueen first fell for Ali MacGraw, he sent her daisies which she promptly threw into the trash can. Undeterred, McQueen sent her a very large bunch of daisies nestled in a galvanized trash can. It must have worked because after that, they both sent daisies in trash cans to one another until they ultimately married.

Marietta Tree gave her husband, Ronald Tree, renderings of items near and dear to his heart. This one, given in 1948, features his reading glasses and pipe, photos of their homes in Barbados as well as Ditchley (their English country house), and favorite magazines.

What has to be one of the most romantic gifts featured in the book. Mary Lee Fairbanks presented her husband, Douglas Fairbanks Jr., with a Cartier designed gold envelope that had all of his addresses engraved on it (Fairbanks had lived in quite a few homes) as well as the return address of Mary Lee. Inside the envelope was Mary's engraved message to her husband: "But at last I reached you, My Love."




Vincente Minnelli must have made his daughter Liza very happy with a gift of famous MGM costumes in a size fit for a child. This sure beats the prairie skirt that I used to play dress up in! If only I had had a feathered headdress...




I'm sure this vignette in the home of Tony Duquette looks familiar to you, but did you know that the dolphins flanking the sofa were given to the Duquettes by Frances Elkins? They once belonged to Misia Sert.




Leave it to Fleur Cowles to give Jerome Zipkin such a chic gift. While attending a luncheon at Zipkin's home, Cowles had admired his collection of Meissen leopards. She asked to borrow one, which was later returned with a thank you note. A few months later, Cowles sent Zipkin the small painting seen above which featured one of Zipkin's leopards. This leopard, though, held one of Cowles' signature roses in its mouth.

(All images from Only the Best: A Celebration of Gift Giving in America by Stuart E. Jacobson; Jesse Gerstein photographer.)