I Didn’t do Wrong Did I?

Cavendish Mews is a smart set of flats in Mayfair where flapper and modern woman, the Honourable Lettice Chetwynd has set up home after coming of age and gaining her allowance. To supplement her already generous allowance, and to break away from dependence upon her family, Lettice has established herself as a society interior designer, so her flat is decorated with a mixture of elegant antique Georgian pieces and modern Art Deco furnishings, using it as a showroom for what she can offer to her well heeled clients.

 

Today however, we are not at Cavendish Mews. We are not even in London. Instead, we are north of the capital, in the quiet little Essex farming village of Belchamp St Paul*. Lettice met the world famous British concert pianist, Sylvia Fordyce at a private audience after a performance at the Royal Albert Hall**. Sylvia is the long-time friend of Lettice’s fiancée, Sir John Nettleford-Hughes and his widowed sister Clementine (known preferably now by the more cosmopolitan Clemance) Pontefract, the latter of whom Sylvia has known since they were both eighteen. Lettice, Sir John and Clemance were invited to join Sylvia in her dressing room after her Schumann and Brahms concert. After a brief chat with Sir John (whom she refers to as Nettie, using the nickname only his closest friends use) and Clemance, Sylvia had her personal secretary, Atlanta, show them out so that she could discuss “business” with Lettice. Anxious that like so many others, Sylvia would try to talk Lettice out of marrying Sir John, who is old enough to be her father and known for his dalliances with pretty chorus girls of Lettice’s age and younger, Lettice was surprised when Sylvia admitted that when she said that she wanted to discuss business, that was what she genuinely meant. Sylvia owns a small country property just outside of Belchamp St Paul on which she had a secluded little house she calls ‘The Nest’ built not so long ago: a house she had decorated by society interior designer Syrie Maugham***. However, unhappy with Mrs. Maugham’s passion for shades of white, Sylvia wanted Lettice to inject some colour into her drawing room by painting a feature wall for her. Thus, she invited Lettice to motor up to Essex with her for an overnight stay at the conclusion of her concert series at The Hall to see the room for herself, and perhaps get some ideas as to what and how she might paint it. Lettice agreed to Sylvia’s commission, and originally had the idea of painting flowers on the wall, reflecting the newly planted cottage garden outside the large drawing room windows of ‘The Nest’. However, after hearing the story of Sylvia’s life – a sad story throughout which, up until more recent years, she had felt like a bird trapped in a cage, Lettice has opted to paint the wall with stylised feathers, expressing the freedom to fly and soar that Sylvia’s later life has given her the ability to do.

 

Thrilled with her new feature wall, Sylvia is throwing an intimate weekend house party to which she has invited Lettice and Sir John, Lettice’s oldest childhood chum, Gerald Bruton, whom she met up in London by lucky happenstance when paying Lettice’s bill, Gerald’s young and fey homosexual partner, Cyril, who is an oboist, and a smattering of other musically inclined guests. Lastly, Sylvia has also invited the West End theatre actress Paul Young, the current paramour of Sir John. So, this evening we find ourselves in the drawing room of ‘The Nest’, which has been restored to rights with Sylvia’s elegant furnishings and collection of blue and white porcelain on display against the backdrop of Lettice’s hand painted feather covered feature wall. Designed in the prevailingly fashionable Arts and Crafts country style, the spacious room dominated by Sylvia’s walnut grand piano, is illuminated by the soft golden glow of lamps, and the guests stand around in small clutches.

 

The gentlemen present are smartly turned out in stiff black tie, or in the case of Gerald, the more modern, modish and daring tuxedo, a style influenced by the more relaxed American culture from across the Atlantic. The ladies on the other hand are in a range of beautifully coloured beaded evening dresses. Our hostess’s black dyed sharp bob sits neatly about her angular face. She wears no earrings or necklace, and her skin is caked with its customary thick layer of white makeup, her red painted lips the only colour afforded her face. Wearing her usual large aquamarine and diamond cluster ring on her left middle finger on her elegant pianist’s hands, tonight Sylvia has dressed unusually in something other than black or white and is wrapped in a column of sparkling, bead encrusted gold lamé. Sylvia’s sharp appearance is in total contrast to Lettice who stands at her side, arrayed in one of Gerald’s new creations for her: a gown of silverly powder blue tule that wafts around her like a cloud when she moves, accessorised with a beaded belt and pearls cascading down her front. Her blonde hair is Marcelled**** into soft waves around her lightly painted face.

 

The guests applaud as Cyril finishes playing a piece of music he knows by heart on his oboe as a party piece.

 

“Oh Gerald, darling!” Sylvia purrs. “Your Cyril is an accomplished oboist, as well as a charming character. I can see how easily he must have charmed his way into your heart.”

 

“If music be the fruit of love,” Gerald replies wistfully, looking dew eyed at his lover as he basks in the adulation of the other guests at Sylvia’s intimate gathering. “Play on.”

 

“Shakespeare!” Sylvia exclaims. “A classical education then, Gerald darling.”

 

“Thanks to Lettice’s father, Miss Fordyce.” Gerald nods and smiles gratefully towards Lettice, who stands opposite him at Sylvia’s left.

 

“Oh, Sylvia, please, Gerald darling!” Sylvia insists. She smiles before drawing deeply on her Craven “A”***** through her amber and gold holder, making the butt glow and the paper crackle. “We’re all friends here.” She blows out a plume of silvery grey smoke elegantly.

 

“Sylvia.” Gerald confirms.

 

“So how is our lovely Lettice’s father connected to your classical education, then?” Sylvia goes on, glancing between her two companions.

 

“Well, Gerald and I are the same age, Sylvia, and being neighbours to the Brutons, Gerald spent a lot of time at Glynes with me, just the same as the children of the Tyrwhitt family on the estate neighbouring ours on the other side. It was like we were all extensions of one another’s families, really: always in and out of one another’s houses and gardens.”

 

‘And my father,” Gerald continues with a slight air of bitterness. “Well, he was only ever really interested in lavishing money on my older brother, Roland, as his heir, but Viscount Wrexham saw something in me that he felt was worth nurturing from an academic perspective.”

 

“As he did in me, Sylvia.” Lettice adds. “My father believes in a good education for women as well as men, to equip them for a life beyond the drawing room, the likes of which my mother would happily have me bound to: embroidery and idly chit-chat about county affairs.”

 

“A very forward thinking man.” Sylvia muses with a curt nod. “I approve wholeheartedly.”

 

“So, because Gerald and I are the same age, my father asked Gerald’s father if he would mind if Gerald were to join me in the Glynes schoolroom for classes.”

 

“And since my father had no desire to spend money on my education, and Viscount Wexham was paying for the tutelage, he agreed.” Gerald concludes.

 

“Well, jolly good show, Viscount Wrexham!” Sylvia says, exhaling another cloud of roiling smoke after drawing on her cigarette and giving Gerald’s left forearm a gentle squeeze of comfort with her right hand. “He did well, seeing you as a prodigy, Gerald darling. And now, here you are, an up-and-coming couturier with a beautiful and talented lover.” She nods at Cyril across the room.

 

Gerald blushes red with a mixture of embarrassment at Sylvia’s compliment, and her acknowledgement of his lover. “I say,” he says. “It really is most kind of you to have Cyril and I here, together, for the weekend, Miss Fordi… err… Sylvia.”

 

“Oh, it’s my pleasure, Gerald darling.” Sylvia assures him. “Besides, this weekend treat doesn’t come for free.” Her dark eyes widen and sparkle in the light cast by the lamps around the room. “I’m not that altruistic. I will hold you to your promise of a pair of beach pyjamas******. I want nothing more than to scandalise and shock people when I sit on the beach at Blackpool, or parade down the pier!”

 

“Oh Sylvia!” Lettice laughs.

 

“What?” Sylvia asks, feigning innocence.

 

“You are incorrigible!”

 

“It will help keep my name in the papers, and people coming to my concerts. Heaven save me from the boredom of middle-aged mediocrity.”

 

“I promise I will make them for you, Mi… Sylvia.” Gerald replies. “In Nile green******* satin with black piping. It’s the least I can do for you being so… ahem!” He clears his throat awkwardly. “Understanding of Cyril’s and my...”

 

“Arrangement?” Sylvia prompts.

 

“Ahem!” Gerald clears his throat again. “Err… yes.”

 

Sylvia smiles sadly. “I know we don’t know each other well yet, my dear Gerald, but I do hope we will. Please take it on good authority from me, that I have known many inverts******** in my life.” She draws on her cigarette thoughtfully. “The moment you walked into Lettice’s drawing room the day she and I were settling my account for this wonderful feature wall,” She turns and glances at Lettice who blushes at Sylvia’s compliment directed towards her, then turns her attention back to Gerald. “I knew who you were from the articles I have perused about your rising star in the fashion magazines I read. Now, please pardon me for being so direct, but I knew what you were the moment you moved towards us and opened your pretty mouth, and those things are not to be found on the glossy pages of magazines, you’ll be pleased to know.”

 

“Oh dear!” Gerald gasps. “Is it really that… am I…” He stammers. “Is it really that obvious? I do try and keep my… my true self… well concealed.”

 

“Not at all, Gerald darling!” Sylvia reassures him. Cyril on the other hand,” She raises her expertly plucked and shaped eyebrows into two deep arches. “Well, he’s easily pinned, being more fey and obvious than you, my dear. However, there is no need for any awkwardness or embarrassment here, Gerald darling.” Sylvia squeezes his arm comfortingly again. “I just told you that I’ve known men like you for many years. When you are exposed to such acquaintances and friendships, it give one a sixth sense, as it were. And,” She drags the last of her cigarette before stumping the but out in the ashtray of the chrome smoker’s stand in front of her, blowing out more acrid smoke as she does. “As I said, we are all friends here. Your secret is perfectly safe with me,” She pauses for a heartbeat. “As is, Nettie’s.”

 

Sylvia nods across at Sir John who stands, talking with Cyril animatedly about music, along with striking Hungarian violinist sisters, Jelly d'Aranyi********* and Adila Fachiri**********. The young West End actress, Paula Young hangs on Sir John’s arm. Cyril glances up too and catches Gerald’s eye, indicating with a gentle narrowing of his own bright blue eyes that he wants his lover to join him.

 

“I think I had better go and rescue Cyril from such musically elite company before it goes to his head,” Gerald says, making his excuses. “Or he shall be insufferable for weeks to come.”

 

As Gerald joins the small clutch, slipping in beside Cyril and lovingly wrapping his arms around his lover’s waist and resting his head comfortably on his shoulder, Lettice remarks with a deep sigh, “How content he looks.”

 

“Does Gerald not often look content, Lettice darling?” Sylvia asks as she fishes in her packet for another cigarette before screwing it into her holder.

 

“Gerald is my oldest and best chum, Sylvia darling.” Lettice takes a sip of her Parisian*********** cocktail from the wide lip of her Marie Antoinette glass************. “I’ve known him all my life, and I can confirm with my hand firmly placed over my heart that I have seen him more unhappy than happy over those years. It was only after he met Cyril, that he finally seems content in life.”

 

“Well,” Sylvia lights her cigarette with her silver table lighter, exhaling another billow of acrid smoke. “We all deserve some happiness in life, don’t we?”

 

“It seems to me, Sylvia, that after what you disclosed to me about your life, you haven’t exactly been blessed with a great deal of happiness romantically.” Lettice opines. “And pardon me for saying this, but there seems to be a noticeable absence from this evening’s little soirée of a certain gentleman from Chippenham*************.”

 

“Gentleman! Ha!” Sylvia snorts derisively, sending smoke plumes from both her nostrils like an angry bull. “My little soirée tonight, is no place for the Lieutenant-Colonel to be attending, Lettice darling!”

 

“Well, why not, Sylvia darling?”

 

The older woman chuckles bitterly. “For someone with a wise and shrewd head for business, you can be so naïve sometimes, Lettice darling.” She shakes her head.

 

Lettice blushes at Sylvia’s rebuke but remains silently sipping her drink.

 

“I told you the first time I brought you to ‘The Nest’, the Lieutenant-Colonel is married, a brute and a boor: which is why I’m attracted to him.” She takes up her own cocktail glass and drains in in three large gulps, arching her neck upwards and screwing her eyes up as she does. Placing the empty vessel back on the surface of the black japanned coffee table she goes on. “And those are the exact same reasons why he shouldn’t be here. Our distinguished and enlightened company,” she wafts her hand around the room at her guests happily chattering away. “Would only take offence after he managed to insult every single one of them with his thoughtless remarks, assuming they had not already fled to the sanctity of their rooms, crying off about a feigned headache, in an effort to escape the boredom of his dull small talk. No, he and Mrs. Lieutenant-Colonel will be cosily tucked up together in their own Chippenham drawing room tonight, completely and utterly bored and disaffected in one another’s company, whilst I enjoy the pleasures of the scintillating company I have gathered here tonight, yourself included Lettice my darling, to christen and celebrate your feature wall – which is how it should be.”

 

“I’m so pleased you like the feature wall, Sylvia darling.” Lettice enthuses, steering the conversation away from awkward and dangerous ground to something safer. “As I said to you at Cavendish Mews, I really wasn’t sure about it, but now, with all the furnishings restored in here, I can see my vision was right.”

 

“Of course it was, Lettice darling!” Sylvia replies through gritted teeth as she holds her cigarette holder in her mouth whilst she fixes herself another cocktail. “I needed someone with vision, and someone for whom white was not the only colour she was happy to use.”

 

Sylvia busies herself, bending over the coffee table, making a boulevardier************** for herself, combining bourbon, bitter Campari and red vermouth over ice. Standing back up again with a groan from having stretched her back awkwardly, she goes on, “Anyway, stop being naughty, Lettice darling, trying to change the subject. We were talking about relationships and contentedness.”

 

“Well yes,” Lettice says with an awkward intake of breath. “As I was saying, Gerald seems very content with Cyril.”

 

However, not to be dissuaded, Sylvia cuts Lettice off. “And you, Lettice darling?”

 

“Me?”

 

“You! Are you content?” Sylvia asks as she looks meaningfully over at Sir John with Paula Young still hanging off his arm as he chuckles at something witty that Jelly d'Aranyi has just said.

 

Lettice follows Sylvia’s gaze.

 

Paula looks beautiful with her dark hair bobbed and slicked down fashionably in an Eaton crop***************, her pale, almost flawless skin, highlighted by her dark, kohl**************** lined eyes and a streak of bright red gloss across her lips. She clings to Sir John in an almost predatory fashion as she occasionally glances up at her hostess flanked by Lettice, her gaze growing hostile as Lettice catches her eye.

 

“Oh that?” Lettice remarks with a half-hearted a laissez-faire attitude. “Oh, I knew about her even before I agreed to marry John.” She sighs heavily. “Of course, Mater and Pater don’t know. John’s very discreet.”

 

“Are you sure of that, Lettice darling?” Sylvia eyes her companion over the top of her glass. “You did tell me that neither of your parents seem overly enthused about your engagement to our Nettie.”

 

“Oh yes!” Lettice assures Sylvia, shaking her head as if trying to rid herself of an irritating insect buzzing around her. “I’m sure they don’t. They’d never allow me to marry a man whom they knew was a philanderer.”

 

“Well, a gentle word of warning, Lettice darling. Nettie is his own worst enemy when it comes to women. He may be discreet, but he’s not as discreet as he should be sometimes, especially when the infatuation is new, and goodness knows, Paula’s not at the best of times.” Sylvia cautions. “So just make sure they don’t find out, lest your engagement all comes to naught.”

 

“Well,” Lettice says, taking another sip of her Parisian. “John tells me he’s tiring of Paula anyway as she is getting too clingy and demanding for his liking.” It is her turn to snort derisively. “Just look at how she tightens her grip on him, every time she and I catch one another’s eyes.” She sighs, betraying her true concerns about Paula to her hostess. “I’m hardly a threat to her.”

 

Sylvia considers her younger companion thoughtfully for a moment, taking the measure of her not so steely gaze as she looks across Sylvia’s drawing room to the clutch of guests standing in a circle. “You do know that there will be others after she’s gone, don’t you Lettice?”

 

“Of course I know, Sylvia. John was very disclosing when he proposed to me. He made things perfectly clear. I know the lay of the land. It’s why I agreed to her coming to your little weekend soirée.”

 

“So he did ask you, then?”

 

“Oh yes, he did.” Lettice replies rather flatly.

 

“That’s good,” Sylvia lets out a pent-up sigh of relief. “Because when Nettie asked me if he could invite her here for the weekend since Clemance cried off with a bad head cold, I said that if he was being truly honest with you, he had to ask your permission first. I have no issue with bed hopping, as you know, Lettice darling, but not at the expense of, the happiness of, or the comfort of any of my guests.”

 

“You are the consummate hostess, Sylvia darling.” Lettice responds as she sips her drink again. “You think of everything.”

 

“I didn’t do wrong by agreeing to Paula coming, did I Lettice darling?” Sylvia asks cautiously, concern think in her voice. “I mean, I do want us to be friends, especially if you are going to marry Nettie. You are still going to become Lady Nettleford-Hughes, aren’t you?”

 

“Yes, of course I am Sylvia.” Lettice turns and reaches out a hand to her hostess, smiling reassuringly as she does. When Sylvia takes it in her own thin and elegant white hand, Lettice goes on. “And we are friends already, no matter what I may or may not have decided. You said yourself, more than once, that we have certain things in common, and I’m inclined to agree with you. Anyway, going back to John and his request, could I have refused him any more than you could? John has told me outright that he despises jealousy, and if I really am going to make this marriage to him work, I have to be accepting of Paula and whomever follows in her footsteps, and most importantly, I cannot be a jealous wife.”

 

“Can you be content with that, Lettice darling?” Sylvia asks carefully.

 

Lettice is about to answer her when Adila Fachiri suddenly breaks from the circle of chatting guests and scurries up to her hostess, her dark eyes illuminated with excitement. “Sylvia! Sylvia darling!” she says in her heavily smoky and dark Hungarian accented voice. “You simply must come. Come with me now!” She reaches out her hands and takes Sylvia’s glass and lit cigarette from her, discarding them on the table.

 

“Adila, what on earth?” Sylvia asks in surprise.

 

“Our clever little oboist has had the most wonderful idea! You, he, Jelly and I are going to perform a quartet for our less musically gifted guests!” Adila laughs gaily. “Please excuse us, Miss Chetwynd. Come, Sylvia! Come along!”

 

And without further ado, Adila drags Sylvia away from Lettice’s side.

 

Lettice watches as Sylvia is cajoled, without too much difficulty, to her place at the grand piano whilst Jelly fetches hers and Adila’s violins. Sir John turns around and catches Lettice’s eye, waving at her with his right hand in which he holds his own half-drunk cocktail, gesticulating for her to join he and Paula. She releases her own pent-up sigh as she wonders how her marriage is going to be. Sylvia’s unanswered question dances through her head as she watches Paula’s arm wind around Sir John’s waist rather like a serpent. Can Lettice really be content with this marriage to Sir John? He has been very disclosing and open with her about his philandering. He hasn’t promised her love, but has offered her security and the ability to have more independence than most married women of her class. There are pros and cons to the bargain she has made. However, the question Lettice is asking herself more and more is, do the pros outweigh the cons?

 

“Shall I be tempted by the Devil thus?” she quietly asks herself, quoting Shakespeare’s Richard III.

 

*Belchamp St Paul is a village and civil parish in the Braintree district of Essex, England. The village is five miles west of Sudbury, Suffolk, and 23 miles northeast of the county town, Chelmsford.

 

**The Royal Albert Hall is a concert hall on the northern edge of South Kensington in London, built in the style of an ancient amphitheatre. Since the hall's opening by Queen Victoria in 1871, the world's leading artists from many performance genres have appeared on its stage. It is the venue for the BBC Proms concerts, which have been held there every summer since 1941.

 

***Syrie Maugham was a leading British interior decorator of the 1920s and 1930s and best known for popularizing rooms decorated entirely in shades of white. She was the wife of English playwright and novelist William Somerset Maugham.

 

****Marcelling is a hair styling technique in which hot curling tongs are used to induce a curl into the hair. Its appearance was similar to that of a finger wave but it is created using a different method. Marcelled hair was a popular style for women's hair in the 1920s, often in conjunction with a bob cut. For those women who had longer hair, it was common to tie the hair at the nape of the neck and pin it above the ear with a stylish hair pin or flower.

 

*****Craven A (stylized as Craven "A") is a British brand of cigarettes, currently manufactured by British American Tobacco. Originally founded and produced by the Carreras Tobacco Company in 1921 until merging with Rothmans International in 1972, who then produced the brand until Rothmans was acquired by British American Tobacco in 1999. The cigarette brand is named after the third Earl of Craven, after the "Craven Mixture", a tobacco blend formulated for the 3rd Earl in the 1860s by tobacconist Don José Joaquin Carreras.

 

******Beach Pyjamas, made of silk, linen, or cotton, often in bright, cubist-inspired prints, were the height of summer and resort fashion in the 1920s and 1930s. They were worn from the afternoon to the evening as a fashionable summer style. They generally consisted of wide-legged trousers and a jacket of matching fabric.

 

*******Nile green is defined as a “pale bluish-green colour” and was very popular in the 1920s, fashionably named so for the Tut-Mania that took the world by storm after Howard Carter discovered Tutankhamun’s tomb in 1922.

 

********Sexual inversion is a theory of homosexuality popular primarily in the late Nineteenth and early Twentieth Century. Sexual inversion was believed to be an inborn reversal of gender traits: male inverts were, to a greater or lesser degree, inclined to traditionally female pursuits and dress and vice versa.

 

*********Jelly d'Aranyi, fully Jelly Aranyi de Hunyadvár was a Hungarian violinist who made her home in London. She was born in Budapest, the great-niece of Joseph Joachim and sister of the violinist Adila Fachiri, with whom she often played duets. She was an excellent interpreter of Classical, Romantic and modern music. After d'Aranyi had, at his request, played "gypsy" violin music to him one evening, Maurice Ravel dedicated his popular violin-and-piano composition Tzigane to her. Again at his request, she gave the first British performance of the Sonata for Violin and Cello in 1922. Ralph Vaughan Williams dedicated his Concerto Accademico to her. Gustav Holst's Double Concerto for Two Violins was written for Jelly and Adila.

 

**********Adila Fachiri. Adila Fachiri was a Hungarian violinist who had an international career but made her home in England. She was the sister of the violinist Jelly d'Arányi, with whom she often played duets. She first went to England in 1909, and in 1915, she married Alexander Fachiri, an English barrister living in London. By 1924, she had played in public in Hungary, Austria, Germany, Italy, France and the Netherlands, as well as appearing regularly at London concerts. One of her preferred accompanists was the pianist Julie Lasdun, mother of architect Denys Lasdun.

 

***********The Parisian cocktail dates from the 1920s and consists of one third French Vermouth, one third Crème de Cassis and one third gin, shaken well and strained into wide cocktail glass. It falls into a category of drinks that often feature French ingredients or have Parisian connections. Several notable cocktails have gained recognition for their ties to Paris or French culture.

 

************A "Marie Antoinette glass" typically refers to a champagne coupe, a shallow, bowl-shaped glass with a short stem. While the shape has been linked to Marie Antoinette's breast in popular culture, historical records debunk this claim. The coupe was popular during Marie Antoinette's reign due to the sweeter champagne produced at the time, and its shape was also favoured for its ability to dip cakes in the beverage.

 

*************Chippenham is a market town in north-west Wiltshire, England. It lies thirteen miles north-east of Bath, eighty-six miles west of London and is near the Cotswolds Area of Outstanding Natural Beauty.

 

**************The boulevardier cocktail is an alcoholic drink composed of whiskey, sweet vermouth, and Campari. It originated as an obscure cocktail in 1920s Paris, and was largely forgotten for eighty years, before being rediscovered in the late 2000s as part of the craft cocktail movement, rapidly rising in popularity in the 2010s as a variant of the negroni, and becoming an IBA official cocktail in 2020.

 

***************The Eton crop is a very short, slicked-down hairstyle for women, often seen as a masculine-leaning style. It was popularized in the 1920s and 30s and was worn by figures like Josephine Baker. The Eton crop emphasizes the shape of the head and focuses attention on the face.

 

***************Kohl is a cosmetic product, specifically an eyeliner, traditionally made from crushed stibnite (antimony sulfide). Modern formulations often include galena (lead sulfide) or other pigments like charcoal. Kohl is known for its ability to darken the edges of the eyelids, creating a striking, eye-enhancing effect. Kohl has a long history, with ancient Egyptians using it to define their eyes and protect them from the sun and dust, however there was a resurgence in its use in the 1920s and 1930s. In the 1920s, kohl eyeliner was a popular makeup trend, particularly among women embracing the "flapper" aesthetic. It was used to create a dramatic, "smoky eye" look by smudging it onto the lash line and even the inner and outer corners of the eyes. This contrasted with the more demure, natural looks favoured in the pre-war era.

 

This 1920s upper-class drawing room is different to what you may think at first glance, for it is made up entirely of 1:12 size dollhouse miniatures, including pieces from my teenage years.

 

Fun things to look for in this tableau include:

 

The wonderful hand painted wall behind the fireplace is the work of artis Emma Jennings www.emmajennings.com.au/artgallery who is inspired by the natural surrounds of her home in the Dandenong Ranges to the East of Melbourne. The panel is a limited edition print of her work, and was given to me, with Emma’s permission, to use as a wallpaper in one of my miniature tableaus.

 

Sylvia’s roomy Art Deco cream satin armchairs are made by Jai Yi Miniatures who specialise in high end miniature furniture. The black japanned coffee table and round occasional table with their gilded patterns are vintage pieces I acquired from Kathleen Knight’s Doll’s House Shop in the United Kingdom.

 

The chrome Art Deco smoker’s stand is a Shackman miniature from the 1970s and is quite rare. I bought it from a dealer in America via E-Bay.

 

The three toned marble fireplace is genuinely made from marble and is remarkably heavy for its size. It, the two brass fire dogs and filagree fireplace fender come from Kathleen Knight’s Doll’s House Shop, as do the two blue and white vases and the two blue and white gilt ginger jars on the mantle. Also on the mantle stands a little green and gold Art Deco clock, which is a 1:12 artisan miniature made by Hall’s Miniature Clocks, supplied through Doreen Jeffries Small Wonders Miniatures in England.

 

The two large blue and white urns flanking the fireplace are Eighteenth Century Chinese jars that I bought as part of a large job lot of small oriental pieces of porcelain, pottery and glass from an auction house many years ago.

 

The bottle of Gordon’s Dry Gin, the bottles of Cinzano, Campari and Martini are also 1:12 artisan miniatures, made of real glass, and came from a specialist stockist in Sydney. The soda syphon and gilt ice bucket with silver tongs sticking out of it were made by M.W. Reutter Porzellanfabrik in Germany, who specialise in making high quality porcelain miniatures. The packet of Craven “A” cigarettes and the Swan Vestas matchbox beneath it were made by Little Things Dollhouse Miniatures in Lancashire, with extreme attention paid to the packaging. The wine glasses and water carafe I have had since I was a teenager. I bought them from a high street stockist that specialised in dolls’ houses and doll house miniatures. Each glass is hand blown using real glass. The cigarette lighter is made of sterling silver and was made by the Little Green Workshop in England who specialise in high end, high quality miniatures. The Swan Vesta’s matches sitting in the holder on the smoker’s stand also come from Little Things Dollhouse Miniatures.

 

The painting above the mantlepiece is a 1:12 artisan piece made by Amber’s Miniatures in the United States.

 

The blue and white carpet interwoven with gold I acquired through an online stockist of 1;12 miniatures on E-Bay.

Done