Art deco – Page 2 – Poshbird with Passion

Raising an Eyebrow

A wooden front door is a thing of beauty. Take care of it

‘Are you going to do it red again? Red is the most common colour of front door, you know’

‘I’m not telling you. You’ll see soon enough’

‘I bet it’s going to be one of those bluey-greens. Or orange. Is that orange?’

My neighbour interrogated me. Over the course of the week I had sanded down the paintwork of the front door and we had added a rain deflector to the bottom of the front door. Understandably, it was looking a lot worse than before I started

Various paint testers with their numbers scribbled alongside had remained for over a year because I just couldn’t decide. Eventually I found inspiration from a house we pass on the way home from work each day. It was quite a departure for me

That Sunday was hot. Really hot. By nine that morning the door was off and placed on the workbench in the garage for priming. I hadn’t accounted for the cotton candy seed which was floating thickly in the air that day, so Baz had to close the garage door on me while I worked, to try and keep it from sticking to the paint. This created almost perfect paint oven conditions, but made me feel hot and claustrophobic. Nonetheless, I soon achieved the zen-like state that can only be reached when you like your choice of finish – in this case, Mylands ‘Bond Street’ in a dead flat finish. It looks restrained, contemporary and very posh

1930s houses with original features are sadly in decline, with people taking practical decisions which involve PVCU doors and windows. Never one to follow the herd, when C was small I bought an ‘eyebrow’ door for the house. It was too big and the orientation was wrong for the house, so Baz thought I’d really screwed up, but a carpenter trimmed and hung it for me. Unfortunately the wood was not in great condition, so I filled and sanded as best I could in situ and painted it (badly) in bright red

I didn’t care what Baz thought. It made me smile

So, a decade or so later it deserved a re-visit. Front doors have to withstand constant to-ing and fro-ing, and are the first line of defence against the extremes of weather. This door has spent the best part of a century in service, and it still does so with style and substance. It has earned all its imperfections and it carries them well

I am no expert, but the matt finish has helped to disguise some of its dings and imperfections and it makes the fielding look crisp, way better than the red gloss before

And my neighbour’s verdict?

‘The undercoat looks very nice. What colour is it going to be?’

Relight My (Gas) Fire

Upcycling and alternative energy sources

Attractive pieces often get scrapped because they are no longer useful or relevant, so I wanted to re-purpose an old gas heater by turning it into a light. That was the plan – to be sensible and to dip my toes – but then I couldn’t choose between two of them, both very different, each with its own merits. So I bought both!

This one is SO unusual and such a beautiful shape. I could see its potential and fell in loveI think it’s made of aluminium. It was in three robust basic pieces (three very heavy pieces) when I got it, plus it had some perished gas-fitting gubbings that I removed easily (WD40 again!). It was absolutely filthy and took more effort to clean than I had expected, but even so it has a good patina and I’m glad it’s not too shiny I bought a small nickel bulb fitting and some nuts and bolts to put the bits together firmly, and a neighbour kindly drilled the base for me as the existing feed hole was too small (I didn’t have anything that could get through metal that solid). My main frustrations were (a) finding nice 3-core flex, which I eventually got on line and had to wait a couple of days for, and (b) getting the flex through the cord grip. There was some quiet swearing at that stage

It took time to wire the fitting and plug, because I am out of practice. It was a very hot evening and I’m blind to close work without my glasses but they slipped off my nose when I looked down, so when I do the next one I’ll be sensible and work at the table with a magnifying lamp – much easier

I’ve not seen another heater (or light!) like this. I like the fact that it’s so industrial-looking and yet so decorative and sculptural. The ‘stamen’ at the front hides the bulb completely from all angles and the light reflects back from the ‘petals’ of the back-plate. I think it looks lovely, quite sexy actually

We should all re-imagine something every now and again. Have you anything you might re-purpose?

West Bay Weekend

Is that OUR van?

Having parked the van way too easily the night before (The Thrill of the Chaise / Pugs and Pink Jugs ), we were stopped in our tracks as we reached the car park

All down the back and sides of the van was a stream of seagull ploppings. In less than twelve hours it had been completely ‘pebble-dashed‘ and the two gulls on top looked pretty bloody smug. Baz suggested that perhaps the Bridport and West Bay Tourist Board could use this photo?

At Bridport market I found lovely brass tiebacks on a stall where the lady remembers us even though it’s sometimes months between visits. Her price was so good I took the lot, and she shoved them into a carrier bag, telling us she only brought them with her as an afterthought that morning and that she’s still hoping to find suitable glass shades for my weird chandelier

We wandered around the junk shops of St Michaels without buying anything, then took a friend’s tip for lunch at the recently-opened Dorshi – absolutely delicious

After a coffee at the flat and armed with ice creams, we struck out in our walking boots in search of bluebells at Eype Down. My sprained ankle made me very slow, but I needed to see how it coped on uneven ground. Not very well, as it turned out. Unfortunately we were a couple of weeks early for the best of the bluebells

Chesil Beach was lit up by the sun and Portland stretched across the horizon

There were lambs – it is April, after all. They are such dear little things. There were ones and twos, blonds and brunettes

And even a little redhead

Back at West Bay we went out on the harbour and watched the late afternoon sun hitting East Cliff, along to Freshwater and Burton Bradstock

After missing out on beer the night before we had a proper night out with friends watching the Skimmity Hitchers at the Ropemakers (And yes, the beer tasted WONDERFUL)

Job done

The Thrill of the Chaise / Pugs and Pink Jugs

One of those evenings when you just want to get to the pub

We borrowed the company van for the weekend and headed off for West Bay. The weekend stretched ahead, promising two nights of proper pubs and some live music. We could just taste that first beer

We needed to make a detour off the M3 to pick up a chaise I had bought on Ebay. The seller seemed fairly abrupt in her messages, so I kept her updated on our progress, arriving at the agreed time of 7.30pm, despite the satnav spluttering and flatlining when we needed it most

We parked up and could see a lot of junk/stock piled in a conservatory. Baz stayed at the gate and I rang the doorbell several times to no avail. I tried repeatedly to telephone the lady, but it just rang and went to voicemail, over and over. I sent emails. I knocked awkwardly a few times on the door but I really didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t go peering in the windows but we had come all this way and…

Judging from what I had seen, she was obviously a hard-nosed dealer

Or…

…Or a delightfully eccentric elderly lady who had fallen asleep and who eventually came to the door flanked by two pugs, one of whom had apparently woken her up

She told me the chaise was in the garage, but after looking around extensively she concluded that she could not find the garage key. A mere mortal such as myself might have been embarrassed and apologised. But not Lady with Pugs

‘Never mind. My partner will be back from Keep Fit class soon. One of us is very fit and the other is fat’ she announced. She was not very fit. ‘You’ll have to come in and wait. I’ll make you a coffee’

Baz and I exchanged exasperated glances as we stepped through the door behind her. ‘Are you a dealer?’ I asked LwP, taking stock of the lime-green painted dresser in the kitchen, crammed with a jumble of mainly green jugs and vases, and pointing out to Baz a cute pink art deco jug on the top shelf

We followed LwP to the kitchen, where she set about making me a coffee. ‘Oh yes, I was a trader for years, but at my age it’s getting difficult because I have brittle bones. The class finishes at 8 o’clock, so she should be back by ten past’

I saw Baz slump at the prospect of spending over half an hour in an elderly stranger’s house. We were totally trapped

By the time my coffee was ready, the three of us sat at a small kitchen table and a little black pug was asleep on my right boot, snoring loudly. The larger pug was happily licking the knee of Baz’s jeans. It felt quite homely and I made an effort to keep chatting to pass the time. She asked what sort of things I like and I told her of my lifelong obsession with art deco and my love of art nouveau. I was sitting next to an impressive metal art nouveau jug, just plonked on the kitchen surface and barely visible, competing as it was with random other stuff

LwP said she had given up collecting art deco in favour of her passion for the work of Edinburgh-born artist Russell Flint She struggles with mobility after a huge operation on her foot and she spoke of how she’d like to sell up and move back to Spain. To be honest the time passed very quickly, it was easy to make conversation and soon the front door opened. A petite spandex-clad and slightly younger lady stepped in, carrying a yoga mat

‘This lady is here to pick up the sofa and I can’t find my garage key’ said LwP

‘Oh, have you lost your keys again?’ (Fitty in Spandex)

‘The one thing does not equate to the other’ maintained LwP

As the lady in lycra was infinitely more mobile and had a key, she suggested we follow her to the garage. I thanked LwP for the coffee and as we were leaving, she asked me what I had seen on the dresser. I told her it was the little pink jug and she told me to take it, but of course I refused

‘I do a boot sale on a Wednesday morning and that was going with me this week. I’ll get nothing for it. I want you to take it’

I thanked her, embarrassed, and asked Baz to reach up for the jug. As he did, LwP said, ‘Just check there’s no money in it’. Baz dutifully shook it and it rattled. At first I wondered if it might be her keys (it was one of those evenings), but there was a load of change inside it and he tipped it out for her. She shook our hands warmly at the door and I meant it when I said it had been a pleasure to meet her

The nippy little lady in lycra made light work of moving things in the garage and she helped us load the chaise into the van, easily hopping up inside to make sure it was securely loaded, and we said goodbye

I spent the rest of the ride clutching my precious vase, delighted with this little gift. It was getting quite dark and Baz wanted the journey to end. We were an hour behind schedule, hungry and thirsty

So, did we make it to the pub?

We did not. We parked up opposite the flat and threw together some pasta, washing it down with red wine. We sat in front of the telly, dissecting the evening’s entertaining events and the little jug sat in its new home

Porridgey Looks and Paint Removal

What would Goldilocks say?

Of course, we all know how difficult it is to remove Weetabix once it has been left in the bottom of a breakfast bowl

Last night, while researching paint removal on a cornice ( I have used the Peel Away system on fireplaces and beams, but it is messy and horribly expensive) I found a mention on a website of using porridge. Admittedly I was sceptical, expecting to discover that it was an April Fools joke. But no, apparently humble porridge really is perfectly designed for removing water-based paints from intricate plasterwork (I just knew we weren’t supposed to be eating it!)

I homed in on one blogger’s post and she was kind enough to get in touch and give me the benefit of her personal experience (thank you), including the results. I was impressed

https://witchhouseourhouse.wordpress.com/2014/01/02/porridge-corner-and-other-stories/comment-page-1/#comment-96

Back when we were kids (late 60s/ early 70s) porridge was a staple on cold mornings. I hated it and used to smother it in top of the milk, golden (demarara) and dark brown (muscovado) sugars to make it edible, pretending that the crunchy golden sugar which went on first was gold and had to be completely buried in brown sugar – soil – before eating. Now, of course, I feel completely vindicated because I realise that we should have been spreading it on the plasterwork like normal people

Porridge gave rise to a much-used expression in our house. I can’t quite describe it but even now, I can tell my older brother that someone gave me a ‘porridgey look’ and he will give me a knowing smile 🙂

I now look forward to rustling up a trial bowl of this and slapping it onto the wall. I will of course wash all utensils immediately after use

What would Goldilocks say?

Things Removal Men Say

Do they have to share opinions?

The two guys delivering my much-fêted pillow also brought some other bits I’ve been hoarding in the UK. They did a good job overall, though at least one of my Fragile – this way up boxes, containing an irreplaceable wall light, arrived the wrong way up. I pointed this out to them as they unloaded the vehicle and was greeted by blank expressions. After 20 years working in relocation I see that removals men still have no sense of orientation. Hopefully my packing stood up to this abuse

They made the normal compulsory comments about the size of the house, the state of the house, are we going to turn it into gites, etc, and had a bit of a dig about ‘the French’ while they were at it. They were just trying to make polite if opinionated conversation

Among the goodies was one of a pair of leather club chairs that we can’t fit in our living room at home. I had them place it in the empty salon, where I have now successfully tested it. It rocks

Then it happened…

‘Now this’, said one of the blokes, himself a Brit living in France, ‘is a man’s room. That armchair there and a big TV on that wall, that’s all you need’ He kindly expressed through mime the approximate size of his enormous imaginary TV and indicated the wall where I should put it, between the elegant, if very shabby, French doors

I really don’t think so

The Savoy Still Sparkles

Baz picked up a ‘Groupon’ for Kaspars Grill at the Savoy. Even more than the food, I was aching to visit such an art deco icon. We tubed it to Green Park and took a walk first, past the Ritz and down through St James (we’re such tourists!)

My ‘Rivoli Bar’ shot

We passed Rowleys with its sumptuous tiling. Then we stopped for a pint at the Admiralty on Trafalgar Square to start the evening

We’re told this is the only right hand drive road in the UK

The Savoy is of course a landmark. Inside it is a grand space, but the intimate seating areas and changes of floor level and finish, make it feel cosy as you pass through. It was tempting to sit and try every grouping, every corner

Over a glass of champagne, we ordered scallops, ceviche, chargrilled halibut and a cod loin served with poached egg, followed by heavenly desserts. Despite the voucher it really wasn’t a cheap night out!

Perhaps what really grabbed me was the use of glass. There were mirrors, glass sculptures and lighting everywhere. It was glamorous and opulent, as it should be

Our cameras sat upon our table, and a waiter was surprised to see that I have a Canon while Baz has a Nikon. Oddly enough, it was Baz who always had Canons until he bought this camera., whereas I bought my first Nikon at 18 years old and remained loyal until I tried a Canon at a photographic event in Yellowstone Park and found it very user-friendly. They are both entry-level cameras and our first digital SLRs . The results we get are often very different, mainly because of our approaches. The top photos illustrate this quite well

We wandered past the stately Simpsons as we left, and felt the fairly hostile night-time atmosphere of the Strand as we headed to Charing Cross for the journey home

Baz snapped a deli on the Strand. The staff were still at work and the interior looked cosy and inviting. Both of us felt this was our favourite shot of the night

I borrowed this atmospheric deli shot from Baz

The armchair lottery

This week I bought two 1930s club chairs on ebay. We picked them up locally from an upholsterer who had them as a project but is moving house so just wanted them gone quickly. I was traumatised when he told me he had thrown the matching 3-seater sofa into a skip lorry. He was a lovely guy and I felt bad that I only paid 99p. On another day even in this (disgusting) state they could have made him £100.00. But it wasn’t another day, it was a Wednesday. They were only ever going to appeal to an optimist or a masochist (I am not a masochist). They appear to have been re-covered by a professional in the late 60s, but I think it has been done out of necessity rather than love. The current fabric is pink, semi-shiny and hideous, and I recognised it instantly from furniture in my relatives’ houses when I was a child. Surely no-one would have just ‘had to have’ that fabric?!

The springs look fine to me – but what do I know? I have started removing all the tacks and staples during my lunchtime so that I can try to template the fabric and chuck out the horsehair. Ambitious, I know, but I have bought some leather and I hope to be able to completely re-stuff and replace everything, using just the wooden frames and the existing springs. The bottom line is that they cost me 99p for the 2, so I am allowed to make errors as I learn. And as Baz said, if we find a quid down the back of one of them, we’ll be in profit!

Womance and the love of Audrey

Friendships are formed in the most unexpected ways, and I suppose that is part of the beauty of them.
On the plane on the way down to view the house I chatted with the English couple sitting next to me. I will refer to them as G & T – it seems fitting, who then helped me find the connecting bus service to Quillan. This has been a very happy coincidence because as it turns out G is a fellow passionate admirer and saver of all things old, beautiful and undervalued. According to Baz she and I have been enjoying a wo-mance ever since, with frequent supportive texts, email exchanges about various gorgeous things, and then a chat on the phone when G negotiated with (possible!) Russian mafia in order to pick up a mirror I bought on ebay for £10.00. Some of the coincidences have been spooky and we even had to check we were not bidding on the same ebay items. How insane is that?!
So G has been ‘virtually’ with me every step of the way. From the initial viewing through the frustrations with the estate agent and notaire, to finally getting the final completion date, she has been an essential part of the process, keeping me sane via text and helping me understand the system. Now, to top it all, G & T are going to pick up our keys from the estate agent, collect us at Carcassonne and take us to the house when we arrive. This means I will get a chance to show them around (I know they are desperate to see this monument to my insanity), and that Baz and I will have some good old-fashioned moral support when we open the door. Honestly, it has made this whole ‘adventure’ feel way more manageable, and I am dying to buy them dinner to say thanks.

One of the hardest things about being away from home is leaving the chickens. They are very well cared for in our absence by our lovely neighbour Sue, who keeps them fed and puts them to bed. It’s especially hard to leave Audrey (above) who has never been well and has had more meds in her 2 and a half years than most chickens ever have to endure. We all have so much love and respect for her as she has repeatedly defied her odds, coming back from the absolute brink. She is such a fighter, brave and resilient. Luckily, Baz will usually be at home to care for them while I am overseeing work in France.
Now, if the estate agent will only tell us how much to pay and to which account in time for completion on Thursday, we’ll be fine….

Lost and found

It was the late 70s. I must have been thirteen or fourteen years old and I often spent more time at my friend Adrian’s house in Bounds Green than I did at my own. I was in awe of his film star-esque mum Eleanor (part-time opera singer, part-time antiques dealer) and his sister Therri (probably still the person I would have most liked to have looked like). The house was a dog-smelling chaotic mix of antiques and dust. The colours throughout were dark and brooding, with intense colour in unexpected places. There was nothing contrived about the house, it just oozed casual style and screamed ‘home’ to me like nothing else. Eleanor was my self-appointed mentor. She was slovenly, selfish and demanding, and I learned all I could from her! There was a skip outside one weekend and I saw a small wooden Burmese dragon lamp hanging over the side. It was perhaps 2 ft tall, and would have matched the enormous standard lamp version in her living room. I could see it was damaged, but I asked if I could take it. Of course, she said yes. Her husband John was clearing out some of her old stock which she had no room to store in either the shop in Islington or in the house. I grabbed the light and scoured around. The other thing that caught my eye was the most gorgeous embroidered picture I had ever seen. It was all the colours of thread sewn onto a beautiful green background backed by simple cardboard. Someone had obviously spent their own personal hours meticulously creating this and yet it had ended up in a skip?

My gut feeling then was – and it still is – that it was sewn in the 1930s. I hung it in every bedsit and flat I lived in and then when I bought my first home at 21 years old I splashed out and had it framed. The framer in Porlock in Somerset was intrigued, and he suggested that it was older than I thought, but I doubt I will ever know. It remains in the same frame and has pride of place in our living room. I look at it every day and would never part with it.

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