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explore on Jan 7, 2009 #337
when i put down the tomatoes on the coffee table, doh came and sniffed it then went away. so i put a bit of breadcrumb under the tomatoes to get this shot, otherwise he wouldn't sit down that close.
i only rotated, cropped and adjusted the curves a little.
here we go :D
The angle of the sun this time of year creates such beautiful, soft light and wonderful shadows. It's one of the things I love about the colder months as the days get shorter...
Happy Monochrome Monday!
Glass-topped thick wicker patio coffee ( or el vino more usually :-) ) table getting a good baking.
Algarve.
Just a simple sitting room with a couple art pieces. I made the ‘coffee table’ using resin and a child’s teacup. The hanging art pieces are mini versions of photos I took in Venice. The mirrored table is hard to see, but I saw a table like this in Venice with boots on each leg……lots of $$$$$$. The glass pitchers remind of the Murano glass factories and the balloon dog is a memory of the Jeff Koons gallery in Venice.
This view gives a more 3-dimensional view of this magnificent coffee table. I don't know how much time the mother-of-pearl inlays took to make. Probably hundreds of hours. And probably made in the 1930's, 1940's or 1950's. It must be rare, as I haven't seen any others in this style on eBay.
Today the Hereios of the We're Here group are shooting Ruthless Copycats, because it's Ruth's birthday.
Where in Regensburg? Ok, this is really hard to solve. But if you know Regensburg very well, it should be possible.
Here is another picture of my Lily Pad Table. The ash tray is a recent find from a local antique store. It's from the 50's by California Originals Pottery
IMG_1898 2023 09 12 file
another oversized book viewed at Restoration Hardware Gallery - Town Center Plaza - Leawood, KS
A table, for displaying your treasures. New and exclusive original mesh available at Swank during the May round, then it will come home to the Eclectica Mainstore.
marketplace.secondlife.com/p/Eclectica-Recycled-Coffee-Ta...
DICTATORSHOP- Mode Livingroom
Includes sofa, chair, end table, coffee table, shelf and cubbies (not pictred)
Bloom!- Deco Candle Tray
Bloom!-Wine Bottle Candles
Bloom!- Wine Rack
PANIQ- Self Love Candle
The low Autumn sun streamed into my living room before work this morning. Like a cat, I felt drawn to the beautiful light...so what else to do but position the tripod and climb up on my coffee table?
#321 in Explore 6 December 2007
Seahells on a coffee table at an antique store.
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Leica Elmarit M 28mm f/2.8 ASPH + Fujifilm X-Pro2.
The Hotel Jacaranda is the picture of Southern repose. Built in the 1920s and listed on the National Historic Register, Avon Park’s “gracious lady” boasts high ceilings and quiet hallways. In years gone by, the Jacaranda played hostess to the likes of Babe Ruth and Clark Gable.
As a true example of living history, The Hotel Jacaranda is one of the oldest continuously operating hotels in Highlands County. When the Hotel Jacaranda opened in 1926, it took its name from a 150-year-old jacaranda tree that had been removed to make way for the hotel. Among its first guests were members of the St. Louis Cardinals, who came to Avon Park for spring training from 1927 to 1929. Photos of its famous guests, from Babe Ruth to Hollywood celebrities George Burns and Gracie Allen, adorn its hallways. During World War II, the grand hotel played a hand in the war effort by housing hundreds of servicemen who had come to the area to train as military pilotsIn 1988, the South Florida State College Foundation, Inc., purchased the Hotel Jacaranda with an eye toward preserving its historic character. As part of that ongoing effort, the
Foundation has undertaken a major restorative project that is returning a street-level business mall to its original design. Through a partnership with South Florida State College, culinary students perfect their talents by training in the Hotel Jacaranda’s modern kitchen.
Credit for the data above is given to the following website:
www.hcpao.org/Search/Parcel/28332201004800100A
www.visitflorida.com/en-us/cities/sebring/jacaranda-hotel...
© All Rights Reserved - you may not use this image in any form without my prior permission.
These are some Digital Marco pictures taken on the coffee table inside the family room in my house in Glen Carbon, Illinois. We got this chess set from Ensenada, Mexico, on July 12, 2007 on a family cruise. Ensenada is located 60 miles south of the US border on the Pacific coast.
A picturesque afternoon at Cafe du Monde. New Orleans, Louisiana, USA.
Una pintoresca tarde en el Café du Monde. Nuevo Orleans, Louisiana, EEUU.
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.
Tonight, Lettice has been entertaining her two Embassy Club coterie friends, newly married couple Dickie and Margot Channon, whom she recently redecorated a few rooms of their Regency country retreat in Cornwall, ‘Chi an Treth’. The dinner has come to a pleasurable conclusion and the trio have withdrawn to Lettice’s drawing room, adjunct to the dining room, to enjoy a digestif* and continue their gossip, before going out around ten o’clock to the Embassy Club in Bond Street for more drinks and dancing well into the wee small hours of the morning with their other friends.
“Dickie daring, why don’t you play barman, since you enjoy it so much.” suggests Margot as they sit down, Lettice and Margot in the two white, luxuriously padded tub armchairs and Dickie on the Hepplewhite desk hair placed between them.
“As you wish, my love!” Dickie says cheerily. “Gin and tonics all round?”
“Please!” enthuses Margot.
“Heavenly!” exclaims Lettice.
Whilst Dickie goes to the black japanned drinks cabinet in the adjoining dining room and fetches three highball glasses, the soda siphon and a bottle of Gordon’s gin**, Lettice presses the servant’s call bell next to the fireplace, eliciting a soft buzzing that can be heard from the kitchen through the green baize door leading to the service part of the flat.
“Right!” Dickie says, returning with his arms full. “Gin, tonic water, three glasses,” he remarks as he puts the items down one by one on the low black japanned coffee table between the tub chairs. “Now all we need is…”
“Yes Miss?” Edith, Lettice’s maid, asks as she appears with perfect timing by her mistress’ side, dressed in her black dress and fancy lace trimmed apron, collars and cap that she wears as her evening uniform.
“What do you need, Dickie?” Lettice asks, deferring to her friend with an elegant sweep of her hand.
“Ahh, some ice in a bucket, tongs, a lemon and a knife if you can manage it, Edith old girl.” Dickie replies with a bright smile.
“Yes sir,” Edith replies, smiling brightly as she bobs a curtsey.
Returning a few minutes later with the items on a silver tray, just as Edith bobs another curtsey to her mistress and her guests, Margot pipes up, “Oh Edith!”
“Yes Mrs. Channon?”
“I just wanted to let you know that Hilda is working out splendidly so far.” She smiles up at the maid, whose pretty face is framed by her lacy cap. “Thank you, Edith.”
“I’m pleased, Mrs. Channon. Will there be anything else?”
“No, thank you Edith.” Lettice replies with a smile and dismissing her maid with a gentle wave. “We won’t be here for too much longer. You can clean up the dining table after Mr. and Mrs. Channon and I have gone out to the club.”
“Yes Miss.”
The trio of friends sit in silence whilst they wait for Edith to retreat to the kitchen, Dickie quietly slicing the lemon with a small sharp silver handled knife.
“You do know that Edith probably already knows how her friend is faring, don’t you Margot darling?” Lettice says kindly.
“What?” Margot asks, here eyes widening like saucers. “How?”
Lettice laughs at her friend’s naivety. “You do give Hilda time off, don’t you?”
“Well of course I do, Lettice darling!” Margot defends herself, pressing her elegantly manicured hand to her chest where it presses against the gold flecked black bugle bead necklace she is wearing over her black evening dress. “I’m trying to be a model employer.”
“And what days did you give her off?”
“Well, she asked for Wednesdays, and Sundays free until four.”
Lettice smiles knowingly. “Just the same as Edith.”
When Margot’s look of confusion doesn’t lift, Dickie elucidates. “I think what Lettice is saying, my love, is that Hilda and Edith probably catch up on their days off, since the two have those in common.” He chuckles in an amused fashion as he pours gin over some ice in one of the highball glasses. “Really my love, you can be very naïve sometimes.”
“Do you think they talk about us?” Margot gasps.
“Margot darling, what servant doesn’t talk about their employer behind their back?” Dickie replies, depressing the release of the siphon, spraying carbolised tonic water into the glass. “That’s why it’s called servant’s gossip.”
“Well, I must be careful what I say around Hilda!” Margot replies, raising her hands to her flushed cheeks.
“I should think you would anyway.” her husband adds.
“I don’t think you have too much to worry about, Margot darling. If your Hilda is anything like Edith, the talk is more likely to be about the conditions she works in. I think Edith is more scanadalised by my life than genuinely interested in it. In fact, I think being the good chapel girl that she is, she is probably happier not to know what I get up to. Occasionally she might show an interest in one of my clients, like she did with Wanetta Ward the moving picture actress, but overall she’s just a shy young girl with her own life. She’s very discreet, and I’m sure your Hilda is too, Margot darling, so don’t worry too much.”
‘The joys of slum prudery***,” Dickie chuckles as he hands Lettice her digestif gin and tonic garnished by a slice of lemon. “You may not have to worry with Hilda, my love, but you’ll have to worry about the servants gossiping when you become the Marchioness of Taunton.” Dickie adds sagely, adding a good measure of gin to his wife’s glass as he prepares her drink. “My parents’ household staff thrive on any bit of gossip they can snaffle out. A single piece can keep them going for weeks. In fact I’m sure Mummy feeds them titbits of gossip just to keep them happily employed. My father might not be able to afford to pay them enormous wages, but Mummy makes up for it with morsels of gossip to amuse them all.”
“Well, thankfully I don’t have to worry about that yet,” Margot says. “I’m only just learning how to run a small household as it is. How on earth would I manage with a huge estate? I didn’t marry Dickie for his future title!”
“We know that. I’m sure you’ll be fine when the time comes, Margot darling.” Lettice soothes her friend assuringly, picking up the underlying sense of alarm in her voice. She takes a sip of her drink. “Bliss, Dickie!” she exclaims as the cool tartness of the gin and tonic reaches her tastebuds. “Thank you!”
“My pleasure, old girl!” Dickie replies as she goes about picking up ice cubes with the silver tongs and placing them in his and Margot’s highball glasses.
“Now, thinking of weddings, I must tell you about a most unusual occurrence, Margot darling.” Lettice continues, reaching down to the shelf beneath the surface of the table next to her on which she keeps the telephone. “I received this the other day in the post, and I wanted to talk to you about it.”
Lettice withdraws a postally franked envelope which she tosses onto the cover of her Vogue magazine sitting on the coffee table. Margot picks it up eagerly. She opens the already opened envelope and takes out an elegant card printed on thick paper featuring a champagne bottle buried amid a plethora of flowers on its front. Written in stylish lettering across the image in two banners are the words, wedding celebration.
“Oh, you received Priscilla’s wedding invitation!” Margot enthuses as she holds it in her lap. “I’m so pleased. Yes, we’re going too, if that was what you were going to ask.”
Dickie gives his wife a knowing look as he pours some gin into his highball glass, but says nothing.
“Well that wasn’t what I wanted to talk about as it happens.” Lettice replies. “I assumed that as we are all friends of Priscilla, that of course you would be attending her wedding to Georgie. No, it’s what’s inside that puzzled me.”
“Inside?” Margot queries, a cheeky smile curling up the corners of her mouth.
Dickie looks again at his wife as he adds a slug of extra gin to his own glass, but still says nothing.
“Yes!” Lettice says. “Take a look.”
Margot opens up the card and peruses it lightly before placing the card upright on the table between them, the cheeky smile broadening across her carefully painted lips, but says nothing.
Surprised, Lettice says, “The invitation is for me,” She pauses. “And a friend. Don’t you think that’s rather odd, even for Priscilla?” When Margot doesn’t reply, Lettice adds, “You don’t seem terribly surprised, Margot darling.”
Dickie squirts tonic into one glass. “Oh do stop being so coy, Margot. It doesn’t suit you tonight.” He sprays tonic irritably into the second glass. “Tell her!”
“Tell me what?” Lettice looks firstly at Dickie as he picks up a piece of lemon and places it on the lip of one of the highball glass, and then at Margot as she smiles back benignly at her.
“Me?” Margot asks, feigning innocence, raising her elegantly manicured hand to her throat where a blush starts to bloom.
“For pity’s sake, just own up and tell her!” Dickie hands her the prepared gin and tonic digestif.
“Well, I wish someone would tell me!” Lettice says a little irritated at being kept out of whatever the secret is.
When Margot says nothing, Dickie says as he picks up hie own glass. “It was Margot who arranged that.” He takes a sip of his drink, sighing with satisfaction.
“Margot?”
“Well, it was me who organised it,” Margot admits coyly.
“You did?” Lettice’s eyes widen in surprise.
“Yes. When Priscilla was chatting to me about wedding invitations,” Margot continues with a self conscious chuckle as she starts toying with her beads again. “I simply suggested that, well with you and Selwyn getting along so well together, that she might like to leave an opening for you to invite him if you wished.”
“Oh Margot!” Lettice exclaims aghast, blushing red as she does.
“I say!” Margot’s eyes grow wide as she glances first at her stunned, red faced friend and then her husband, who wears a knowing look. “Have I dropped the tiniest of social briquettes?”
“Well, it was a little,” Dickie pauses, trying to think of the correct word.
“What?”
“I did think it a little presumptuous, my love, when you told me.”
“Oh Lettice darling, I was only trying to help!” exclaims Margot, thrusting out her hands across the table to her friend, her face awash with anguish as she does. “Please don’t be cross with me! As I said, I just thought with you two getting along so well, you’d be sure to want to ask him. I haven’t done wrong, have I?”
Lettice doesn’t answer at first, taken aback by Dickie and Margot’s revelation. “Well, it was imprudent, Margot darling.” Lettice chastises her friend softly finally as she reaches out an takes Margot’s outstretched hands. “What if Selwyn and I had quarrelled? I would then have had to ask another gentleman of my acquaintance who isn’t invited to the wedding,” She pauses. “And as a jeune fille à marier****, that might have its own unwanted consequences.”
“I did try to warn you, my love,” Dickie says not unkindly to his wife. “But the deed was already done.”
“You haven’t quarrelled with him, have you?” Margot’s dark and frightened eyes scan Lettice’s face. “Selwyn that is.”
“No Margot darling.” Lettice assures her. “But what if I had?”
Lettice releases Margot’s hands as Dickie lifts up the highball glass of gin and tonic garnished with a lemon to his wife. She accepts it gratefully and takes more than a small and ladylike sip to calm her jangled nerves as she presses her hand to the cleft in her chest.
“Let this be a lesson to you about meddling in other people’s love lives, my darling.” Dickie says with a serious look to Margot. “I’m sure that poor Lettice and Spencely have more than enough meddling between Lady Sadie and Lady Zinnia.”
“Yes, Mamma tells me that marriages are made by mothers, not their children. There is plenty of meddling from Mater, Dickie darling, but I don’t actually think Lady Zinnia knows about Selwyn and I seeing one another socially.” Lettice says.
Dickie looks across at her doubtfully.
Settling back in her seat, cradling her digestif, Lettice continues, “Mind you, that will all be about to change.”
“How so, old girl?” Dickie queries as he sips his own gin and tonic.
“Because I did exactly what Margot hoped I would, and I invited Selwyn to Priscilla and Georgie’s wedding.”
Margot leans forward in her seat, her beads clattering together in in haste, her mouth hanging slightly open in sudden anticipation. “And did he say, yes?”
“Of course he did, Margot darling!” Lettice laughs lightly.
Margot quickly drops her highball glass onto the coffee table, narrowly missing sloshing some onto its black shiny surface. “Oh hoorah!” She claps her hands in delight, making the bangles on her arms jangle and beams at Lettice, who smiles back shyly, blushing a little as she does.
“If he’d said no, how else would Lady Zinnia know about he and I?” She doesn’t notice Dickie’s sage gaze towards her. “She’ll have to know after the wedding, as it will be in all the papers. Therefore, so will Selwyn and I.”
“That will be a social briquette to drop then.” remarks Dickie quietly.
“What do you mean, my love?” asks Margot.
“Because according to Mummy’s stories about Lady Zinnia, it is she who likes to make the society news, not read it.” He pauses for a moment before continuing, ‘And she likes to have her finger very firmly on all that happens in society’s upper echelons.” He cocks his eyebrow as he looks at Lettice. “She will be fit to be tied to find out through the tabloids that her son is seeing you and she didn’t even have the faintest whiff of it. Are you quite sure she doesn’t know about you and Spencely?”
“Oh quite, Dickie. We’ve not really seen anyone that we know when we have been out to luncheon, or dinner.”
“Or to that picnic in St. James’ Park.” Margot giggles girlishly.
“Or in St. James’s Park.”
“Oh pooh old Lady Zinnia and her grasp on gossip!” Margot says with a dismissive wave. “It’s Lettice and her happiness we care about.”
“I know,” mumbles Dickie half into his drink as he lifts it to his lips and swallows a bit of it, washing down any further thoughts about what Lady Zinnia’s reaction to finding out about Lettice and her son in such a public way might be.
*After dinner drinks are often referred to as digestifs. Digestif is actually the French word for “digestive,” meaning they are exactly what the name suggests: alcoholic beverages typically served after a meal to aid digestion.
**Gordon's London Dry Gin was developed by Alexander Gordon, a Londoner of Scots descent. He opened a distillery in the Southwark area in 1769, later moving in 1786 to Clerkenwell. The Special London Dry Gin he developed proved successful, and its recipe remains unchanged to this day. The top markets for Gordon's are (in descending order) the United Kingdom, the United States and Greece. Gordon's has been the United Kingdom’s number one gin since the late Nineteenth century. It is the world's best-selling London dry gin.
***After the excesses of the reign of William IV, Queen Victoria introduced a very middle-class morality with a focus on respectability to the British monarchy. As her people’s main influencer, the British became very prudish under her reign, and whilst affairs and the like were still not uncommon amongst the upper classes, the middle and lower classes became much more moralistic in the Nineteenth Century. In Queen Victoria’s slums, middle-class respectability and higher than average social morals were often seen as the only ways to escape a poor upbringing. Such attitudes were often called “slum prudery” by their upper-class social betters who had no need of such qualms because of their wealth and birthright allowing them access to society no matter what their behaviour.
****A jeune fille à marier was a marriageable young woman, the French term used in fashionable circles and the upper-classes of Edwardian society before the Second World War.
This upper-class Mayfair drawing room is different to what you may think, for it is made up entirely of 1:12 size dollhouse miniatures.
Fun things to look for in this tableaux include:
The bottle of Gordon’s Dry Gin, the syphon and the glasses are all 1:12 artisan miniatures. All are made of real glass, as is the green tinged glass comport on the coffee table in the foreground. The bottle of gin came from a specialist stockist in Sydney. The comport, the syphon and hors d‘oeuvres were all supplied by Beautifully Handmade Miniatures in Kettering. The porcelain ice bucket and tongs was made by M.W. Reutter Porzellanfabrik in Germany, who specialise in making high quality porcelain miniatures. The two empty highball glasses I have had since I was a teenager, when I acquired them from a specialist high street shop.
The postally franked envelope and the wedding invitation on the coffee table are 1:12 size miniatures made by the British miniature artisan Ken Blythe. Mostly known for his miniature books, of which I have quite a large representation in my collection, Ken also made other items including letters and envelopes. To create something so small with such intricate detail really is quite extraordinary and a sign of artistry. Ken Blythe’s work is highly sought after by miniaturists around the world today and command high prices at auction for such tiny pieces, particularly now that he is no longer alive. I was fortunate enough to acquire pieces from Ken Blythe prior to his death about four years ago, as well as through his estate via his daughter and son-in-law. His legacy will live on with me and in my photography which I hope will please his daughter.
The vase of yellow roses on the Art Deco occasional table and the vase of red roses on the right-hand side of the mantlepiece are beautifully made by hand by the Doll House Emporium.
The black Bakelite and silver telephone is a 1:12 miniature of a model introduced around 1919. It is two centimetres wide and two centimetres high. The receiver can be removed from the cradle, and the curling cord does stretch out.
Lettice’s drawing room is furnished with beautiful J.B.M. miniatures. The Art Deco tub chairs are of black japanned wood and have removable cushions, just like their life sized examples. To the left of the fireplace is a Hepplewhite drop-drawer bureau and chair of black japanned wood which has been hand painted with chinoiserie designs, even down the legs and inside the bureau. The Hepplewhite chair has a rattan seat, which has also been hand woven. To the right of the fireplace is a Chippendale cabinet which has also been decorated with chinoiserie designs. It also features very ornate metalwork hinges and locks.
On the top of the Hepplewhite bureau stand three real miniature photos in frames including an Edwardian silver frame, a Victorian brass frame and an Art Deco blue Bakelite and glass frame.
The fireplace is a 1:12 miniature resin Art Deco fireplace which is flanked by brass accessories including an ash brush with real bristles.
On the left hand side of the mantle is an Art Deco metal clock hand painted with wonderful detail by British miniature artisan Victoria Fasken.
In the middle of the mantle is a miniature artisan hand painted Art Deco statue on a “marble” plinth. Made by Warwick Miniatures in England, it is a 1:12 copy of the “Theban Dancer” sculpture created by Claire-Jeanne-Roberte Colinet in 1925.
The carpet beneath the furniture is a copy of a popular 1920s style Chinese silk rug, and the geometric Art Deco wallpaper is beautiful hand impressed paper given to me by a friend, which inspired the whole “Cavendish Mews – Lettice Chetwynd” series.
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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.
It is evening at Cavendish Mews, and like many other evenings, Lettice has had , her old childhood chum, Gerald, join her for a quiet dinner, just the two of them. Whilst Gerald is also a member of the aristocracy who has tried to gain some independence from his family by designing gowns from a shop in Grosvenor Street, his underlying reasons differ greatly from Lettice’s. Their families’ properties may neighbour one another, but whereas the Chetwynds have weathered the storms of war, tax increases and the necessity to modernise that the Twentieth Century has dealt them, the Brutons, Gerald’s parents, have not been so fortunate. Gerald has a paltry allowance from his father, which has only dwindled since the family has been beset by more financial difficulties in the last few years, so the success of his fledgling couture house is imperative for his survival. Luckily, as well as being handsome, Gerald is charming, and has therefore been invited by friends to enjoy their largess and he often dines out at the cost of others. Lettice may be Gerald’s best friend, and her dinner invitation is always welcome, however the evening offers more than just a free meal for Gerald. By bringing some of his sewing, he can use Lettice’s electricity rather than his own, dealing him a small saving, and both of them may enjoy one another’s company as part of the arrangement.
Lettice usually sits and works at her Hepplewhite desk next to the fire in her drawing room, whilst Gerald sews a piece of one of his latest creations for a customer in the comfort of one of Lettice’s arm chairs, but tonight Lettice is enjoying a night of freedom and is sitting in her Art Deco tub arm chair contentedly reading a copy of the Daily Mail and watching Gerald sitting across from her, embroidering the collar of what will soon be a new outfit for her. Whilst they chat and drink one of Lettice’s fine French champagne, they both enjoy the gift of a shiny new brass wireless, a gift from Selwyn Spencely, the future Duke of Mumford, whom Lettice has been seeing socially for a little over a year now.
“I must say,” Gerald remarks as he takes a sip of champagne and settles back with Lettice’s collar into her comfortable tub chair. “Spencely’s gift really does make what was already a wonderful evening even better.” He glances at the shining brass wireless. “It really is ripping getting to listen to music without even leaving the comfort of home.”
“Or the comfort of someone else’s home.” Lettice adds with a cheeky smile, taking a sip of champagne from her own tall glass flute.
“Indeed.” Gerald murmurs, glancing down at the fine pale orange stitches he is adding to a floral motif on the collar as his face flushes. Even though Lettice is aware of Gerald’s financial situation, and she is happy to let Gerald do some work at her flat to help him save money, it is still a point of embarrassment for Gerald and he tries not to let Lettice see him blush. “Mind you,” he adds. “You’ll do well out of this bargain, my darling.” He holds up the collar so Lettice can admire the large petals in pink and orange that radiate around the large Peter Pan collar*.
“Oh, it’s lovely, Gerald!” Lettice enthuses as she reaches across the coffee table and touches the looped embroidery around the edge of the collar, worked in a fine golden apricot. “Elizabeth is going to love it!”
“I hope you are the one who is going to love it, Lettice darling.” Gerald remarks, placing the collar back in his lap. “After all you will be the one wearing it, not Elizabeth.”
Lettice sighs. “I don’t think anyone will care about what I’m wearing to Elizabeth’s wedding**.”
“And so they shouldn’t.” Gerald retorts with a snort. Seeing the hurt in his best friend’s eyes at his statement, he quickly elaborates, “Well, not care so much as focus more on her rather than you. After all she is the bride, and a royal one at that. I know of no bride in all of Christendom who would want to be outshone by any of her wedding guests,” He nods in Lettice’s direction. “However lovely they may be.”
“Thank you, Gerald darling.” Lettice blows her friend a kiss and takes another sip from her tall champagne flute. “There won’t be much chance of that,” Lettice says resignedly, tossing the copy of the Daily Express from her lap irritably onto the black japanned tabletop of the coffee table between them. There on its cover, another romantic photographic portrait of Elizabeth Bowes-Lyon looking demure as she casts her gaze downwards, takes up more than a third of the tabloid’s cover. “Judging by every rag in the city. It’s ‘Elizabeth this’ and ‘Elizabeth that’.”
“I say! Are you just a teensy bit jealous of her, Lettuce Leaf?” Gerald asks teasingly using her abhorred childhood nickname.
“Don’t call me that Gerald!” Lettice warns her friend. “You know I don’t like it.”
“You didn’t mind it when we were four.”
“But I’m not four any more Gerald, and nor are you.” She gives him a doubtful look.
“You are, Lettuce Leaf! You’re jealous of Elizabeth because she has all the attention of the press in the society pages!”
“I wouldn’t say that I’m jealous, exactly, Gerald,” Lettice begins, but she retracts this statement as Gerald looks across at her doubtfully. “Well, maybe I am, just a little bit. I mean, I am very happy for her, and I’m delighted that the press love her and give her positively glowing publicity.” She pauses.
“But?” Gerald probes.
“But, it is getting a little bit tiresome, isn’t it? We’ve barely featured in the society pages since the wedding was announced.”
“We aren’t alone, Lettice darling,” Gerald commiserates. “Barely anyone has.”
“It’s like the whole country has gone Elizabeth mad!”
“I should get Hattie to invest in a wireless.” Gerald ruminates, changing the subject momentarily away from the marriage of Elizabeth Bowes Lyon to the Duke of York***. “If a few of us pooled some money: Hattie, Cyril, Charlie Boy, we might be able to afford one.”
“But what happens if one of Miss Milford’s lodgers decides to leave? What happens with the wireless then? You can’t cut it into sections. Would Cyril or Charles claim custody rights for a few weeks a year?”
The pair laugh at the idea.
“You know, you should come to Hattie’s tonight, Lettice darling.” Gerald says to Lettice as he now draws a pale pink thread through the collar on his lap. “It will be great fun, and far better than sitting here alone, even if you do have your wireless for company.”
“I’m not alone. I have Edith.” Lettice defends, referring to her maid.
“You know what I mean.” He gives her a withering look. “Don’t be tiresome, darling! Being a bottle party**** we’re guaranteed to have some interesting cocktails to drink. You’ve got plenty to choose from in your cocktail cabinet. I’ve got my new banjo***** in the Morris****** because one of Cyril’s orchestra friends who is coming tonight has promised to give me a few lessons on playing it. Come on! It will marvellous fun!”
“I haven’t exactly been invited, Gerald.” She gives him a doubtful look.
“Oh, Hattie won’t mind! The more the merrier, so long as you bring a bottle. In fact, that will make it even merrier, especially if it’s a bottle of gin.” He takes another sip of champagne and raises his flute in his half of a toast. “Being a bunch of theatricals, it might be, well, a bit…”
“Theatrical?”
“Theatrical, yes, but such marvellous fun! We’re quite a tight and fun group, you know,”
“I really don’t know, Gerald.”
Gerald sits up in his seat and puts the collar aside, laying it flat on the black japanned coffee table between them. “Why have you taken against Hattie so, Lettice?”
“I haven’t, Gerald!” she defends. “She’s making me a new hat!”
“Oh pooh to the hat she is making you! I’d say you have.” he counters as he looks at Lettice with a seriousness that he rarely does. “She told me when you visited her to commission her to make your hat for Elizabeth’s wedding, that you were a little bit pompous.”
“Did she?” Lettice’s eyes widen and her expertly plucked brows arch over them at the revelation. “Pompous? Me?”
“Yes, you.” he says pointedly as he picks up the collar again and draws the pink thread through with added concentration. “Certainly, from what she was telling me, and I hate to say this, but you did come across as pompous, darling.”
“That’s rich coming from the man who originally despised Mrs. Hatchett for her up-and-coming middle-class mediocrity.”
“Customers who are more exalted and refined than your second cousins?” Gerald paraphrases from the conversation between Lettice and Harriet as related to him by Harriet.
Lettice blushes.
“You may be friends with Elizabeth, darling, but even when she becomes the Duchess of York, you could hardly call her exalted.”
“She might be Queen one day, Gerald. After all, our King was Duke of York once.”
“But he was always first in line, and we all know that Bertie is not, and the Prince of Wales isn’t going anywhere. He enjoys the adulation of the people too much to not be King one day!”
“Yes, especially of other men’s wives.” Lettice acknowledges.
“And besides, Elizabeth has her own milliner. She’s hardly going to go to Hattie just because she makes you a fetching hat.” He looks reproachfully at Lettice. “Pulling the class card. Really darling! I would have expected better from you. What’s Hattie ever done to you?”
“Nothing.”
“Nothing, exactly! So ask again, why have you taken against her so?”
“She’s… she’s…” Lettice stammers as emotions she has kept controlled and to herself begin to build before finally bursting forth. “She’s just so, nice, so pretty, so sweet natured and good tempered.” She pauses. “It’s like she’s a saint! She calls you Gerry and… and she embraces you in such a familiar way when she sees you, and she invites you to bottle parties at her house!”
“Ahh,” Gerald sinks back in his seat. “Finally! The truth will out! You’re jealous of Hattie. You seem to think that she is usurping you in my affections. You think you’ll lose your best friend to her.”
Lettice doesn’t answer, but the guilty look she momentarily gives Gerald coyly before looking away in shame speaks loudly enough for her.
“I never took you for a silly, jealous type, Lettice darling, yet here you are, jealous of two women in one night.”
“I’m not,” Lettice replies guiltily. “Usually.”
“Well, you have nothing to fear from Hattie.” He looks at her earnestly. “It is true that I do love Hattie, and I enjoy her company immensely. She’s great fun and easy to get along with. However, she doesn’t have the shared experience of growing up together that you and I have, Lettice darling. She will never understand the little quirks and language that we share, and nor do I want her to. Hattie is just another friend: a very good friend I hope.” He reaches out his hand to Lettice’s as it dangles limply from her seat. “I can be myself with Hattie, just like I can with you, and you know how precious that is in this unforgiving world of ours,” He looks meaningfully at Lettice. “But you are my best friend, Lettice. You always will be.”
“Really?” Lettice asks meekly.
“Of course! Unless you keep on carrying on like some silly, jealous upper-class snob!”
Lettice feels suitably reprimanded as she sits uncomfortably in her own tub chair, emotionally exposed under the scruitinising gaze of her dearest friend.
“You were the levelling one of the two of us when you first introduced me to Mrs. Hatchett. You said to me that in spite of her upbringing and background, that she was a good and a worthy person and that I shouldn’t be such a snob.”
“I did.”
“Well, isn’t Hattie the same? Like Mrs. Hatchett, she is a bit gauche in that up-and-coming middle-class kind of way. Although to be fair to her, unlike Mrs. Hatchett, she hasn’t had that much of a life to know what is gauche and what is not. Her mother died many years ago, and from what I can gather, her father was a very strict, Victorian man, so Harriet was given little freedom to express her own ideas or experience the world. Now life is like a giant buffet for her, and she doesn’t know what to eat first, or know that she should eat her first course before her second, rather than the reverse way around. She could benefit from a few, more experienced pairs of hands guiding her.”
“Are you suggesting that Miss Milford and I should be friends, Gerald?”
“No,” Gerald admits. “I don’t think you are ever likely to be bosom friends*******, and I believe that you have intimated as much to her on a previous occasion.”
“Does she tell you everything, Gerald darling?” Lettice exclaims.
“Fairly much.” He smiles cheekily.
“I must remember whatever I say to her may not be sacrosanct.”
“Undoubtedly it won’t be, darling.” Gerald assures her without any remorse. “Anyway, even if you aren’t bosom friends, you might at least be a little kinder to Hattie, and certainly less of a prig. Even if you don’t do it for her, do it for me, because she is my friend and I care for her deeply, and you care for me deeply.”
“Well, I can hardly argue with that reasoning, can I?”
“You know, I’m surprised at your behaviour, Lettice.”
“Why? You get jealous too. Tell me that you weren’t even a little bit jealous of Arabella when she and Leslie announced their marriage?”
“Well of course I was jealous of her!” Gerald admits readily. “I have a horrible green monster that lies not too far beneath the surface of my shallow self, darling. I am jealous of Arabella because she snagged the Chetwynd with the looks whom I desired. I’m jealous of Roland, because as the eldest son, he seems to be completely beyond contempt for any of the scandals he creates, whereas Father punishes me for even the smallest misdemeanour. I’m jealous whenever I see another man look so much as sideways at Cyril across the crowded floor of a molly-house********. Hell, I’m even jealous of you sometimes, Lettice.”
“Of me?” Lettice gasps, raising a hand to her chest.
“Of course, of you, you silly thing.” Gerald replies, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world for Lettice to know.
“Why are you jealous of me? It surely can’t be because of my looks. You’re every bit as handsome as I am pretty. As a woman, I am bound by strictures imposed upon me by my family, my place in society and my very sex since birth about what I can or can’t do, where I go and with whom.”
“Look at our lives, darling!” Gerald exclaims in exasperation. “You have money in the bank, or indeed money to burn. I on the other hand rely on the largess of friends and live on a pittance, throwing every spare penny I can make back into my business. If your business were to falter, you’d be fine, perhaps suffering the gloating of the likes of Sadie who would goad you with ‘I told you sos’ and ‘I knew she couldn’t do it’, but you would survive. As for me, if my fashion house folds, I’m ruined. I have nothing whatever to fall back on, and I would have creditors going unpaid who would hunt me down, or hound me until I am dead. I could end up in debtors’ prison. And thinking of prison,” he goes on seriously. “Regardless of the societal restrictions you are faced with, at least you and Selwyn can be seen in public together as a couple. Cyril and I can’t. I’m not Ned Warren*********, so I have no fortune to keep the gossiping staff well below stairs.”
“Thinking of which, I had dinner with Selwyn a few weeks ago, and he asked me if you had a Gaiety Girl********** hidden away somewhere.”
“I hope you didn’t disabuse him of that idea.”
“I most certainly did!” Lettice defends. “I wasn’t going to lie to him.” It is only when the colour drains from Gerald’s face does she realise the mistake her words have led him to make and she quickly adds. “Oh, not about Cyril, darling! I didn’t tell him about Cyril! I’m not that brainless, even if I can be a snob.” She smiles as she sees the relief in his face. “No, he asked me why you hadn’t been to your club for a while, and thought it might be because you had a chorus girl to amuse you more so than he and the other club members might. I simply told him that you were engaged in business and that was what took up your time.”
“Well, that isn’t entirely untrue.”
“Listen Gerald,” Lettice says seriously, looking her friend directly in the eyes. “I’ll make a deal with you.”
“A deal?” Gerald’s eyebrows arch over his glittering eyes, a smirk causing the edges of his mouth to turn upwards at the end.
“I’m serious, Gerald.”
“Alight! Alright!” Gerald drops his needle and holds his hands up in defeat. “No frivolousness.”
“I will try and be nicer, and less jealous of Harriet. I’ll even try to help her.”
“Oh, thank you, Lettice darling.”
“But” Lettice wags her finger warningly at Gerald. “Only if you will promise me that you’ll be careful to be discreet with Cyril.”
“I’m always discreet, Lettice darling!” Gerald assures her.
“I know you are, Gerald darling,” Lettice replies. “But in my few brief meetings with him, it seems to me that Cyril sometimes is not, and I worry for both of you.”
Gerald observes the look of concern that clouds his best friend’s face.
“I promise I’ll be discreet enough for both of us.” He holds up his glass and Lettice and Gerald click champagne flutes in agreement to both the agreements they have made.
*A Peter Pan collar is a style of clothing collar, flat in design with rounded corners. It is named after the collar of Maude Adams's costume in her 1905 role as Peter Pan, although similar styles had been worn before this date. Peter Pan collars were particularly fashionable during the 1920s and 1930s.
**Elizabeth Bowes-Lyon, as she was known at the beginning of 1923 when this story is set, went on to become Queen of the United Kingdom and the Dominions from 1936 to 1952 as the wife of King George VI. Whilst still Duke of York, Prince Albert initially proposed to Elizabeth in 1921, but she turned him down, being "afraid never, never again to be free to think, speak and act as I feel I really ought to". He proposed again in 1922 after Elizabeth was part of his sister, Mary the Princess Royal’s, wedding party, but she refused him again. On Saturday, January 13th, 1923, Prince Albert went for a walk with Elizabeth at the Bowes-Lyon home at St Paul’s, Walden Bury and proposed for a third and final time. This time she said yes. The wedding took place on April 26, 1923 at Westminster Abbey.
***Prince Albert, Duke of York, known by the diminutive “Bertie” to the family and close friends, was the second son of George V. He was never expected to become King, but came to the throne after his elder brother David, the Prince of Wales, abdicated in 1936 so that he could marry the love of his life American divorcée, Wallis Simpson. Although not schooled in being a ruler, Bertie, who styled himself as George VI as a continuation of his father, became King of United Kingdom and the Dominions from 1936 to 1952, and saw Britain through some of its darkest days, becoming one of the most popular monarchs in British history.
****Bottle parties, a private party to which each guest brings their own liquor, came into vogue during the 1920s and 30s initially especially after prohibition in America and liquor licence restrictions in Britain.
*****Originating out of America during the 1920s the banjo quickly gained popularity in Britain too because it was reasonably cheap as an instrument, portable, easy to learn on and musical duelling matches were played like draughts or chess.
******Morris Motors Limited was a privately owned British motor vehicle manufacturing company established in 1919. With a reputation for producing high-quality cars and a policy of cutting prices, Morris's business continued to grow and increase its share of the British market. By 1926 its production represented forty-two per cent of British car manufacturing. Amongst their more popular range was the Morris Cowley which included a four-seat tourer which was first released in 1920.
*******The term bosom friend is recorded as far back as the late Sixteenth Century. In those days, the bosom referred to the chest as the seat of deep emotions, though now the word usually means a woman's “chest.” A bosom friend, then, is one you might share these deep feelings with or have deep feelings for.
********A molly-house was a term used in Eighteenth, Nineteenth and early Twentieth-century Britain for a meeting place for homosexual men. The meeting places were generally taverns, public houses, or coffeehouses known to be regular haunts of such men, or even private rooms. Molly-houses were places where men could either socialise or meet possible sexual partners. Although the gathering of homosexual men was not strictly illegal, the act of homosexual acts between men was, which made molly-houses dangerous for men should there be a police raid.
*********Edward Perry Warren, known as Ned Warren, was an American art collector and the author of works proposing an idealized view of homosexual relationships. He is now best known as the former owner of the Warren Cup in the British Museum.
**********Gaiety Girls were the chorus girls in Edwardian musical comedies, beginning in the 1890s at the Gaiety Theatre, London, in the shows produced by George Edwardes.
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 from my miniatures collection.
Fun things to look for in this tableau include:
Gerald’s magnificent sewing box with its mirrored lid, silver and russet brocade padding and russet trimming, and ball feet is a 1:12 artisan miniature. It’s interior is full of sewing paraphernalia. Made by an unknown artisan, it came from Kathleen Knight’s Dolls House Shop in the United Kingdom.
The embroidered collar for Lettice’s royal wedding outfit that Gerald has been working on is actually a piece of beautiful scalloped ribbon that was given to me at Christmas time by a very close friend of mine. The silver dressmaking scissors on top of it came from an online stockist of miniatures on E-Bay.
The newspaper sitting underneath the collar featuring an image of Elizabeth Bowes-Lyon, the future Queen Elizabeth and one day Queen Mother, is a copy of a real Daily Mail newspaper from 1923 and was produced to high standards in 1:12 by Little Things Dollhouse Miniatures in Lancashire.
The champagne flutes that are filled with glittering golden yellow champagne were made by Karen Ladybug Miniatures in the United Kingdom.
The brass wireless in the background, which is remarkably heavy for its size, comes from Melody Jane’s Doll House Supplies in the United Kingdom.
Lettice’s drawing room is furnished with beautiful J.B.M. miniatures. The Art Deco tub chairs are of black japanned wood and have removable cushions, just like their life sized examples. To the left of the fireplace is a Hepplewhite drop-drawer bureau and chair of black japanned wood which has been hand painted with chinoiserie designs, even down the legs and inside the bureau. The chair set has a rattan seat, which has also been hand woven. To the right of the fireplace is a Chippendale cabinet which has also been decorated with chinoiserie designs. It also features very ornate metalwork hinges and locks.
The fireplace is a 1:12 miniature resin Art Deco fireplace which is flanked by brass accessories including an ash brush with real bristles.
The carpet beneath the furniture is a copy of a popular 1920s style Chinese silk rug, and the geometric Art Deco wallpaper is beautiful hand impressed paper given to me by a friend, which inspired the whole “Cavendish Mews – Lettice Chetwynd” series.
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 Lettice is sitting in her drawing room reading a book over a cup of tea from her Royal Doulton tea set, when an urgent pressing of the electric doorbell to the flat interrupts her mid paragraph, just as Miss Diana Beauleigh in rescued by Jack Carstares, an English nobleman turned highwayman. She looks up perplexed. She has no clients with appointments today. The electric buzz of the doorbell rings through the flat again. Her face drains of all colour as she suddenly wonders whether she has forgotten she has a client or potential client visiting today. Ever since it was announced publicly that she was decorating Dickie and Margot’s Penzance property, interest in her design services have increased. She jumps up from the comfort of her tub chair where she has been curled up with her book and scurries over to her desk where she flips through her leather diary.
The bell buzzes urgently again.
“I’m coming, alright. I’m coming.” mutters Lettice’s maid, Edith, irritably as she makes her way through the service entrance from the flat’s kitchen to the front door. “Keep your hair on*.”
Disgruntled, Edith opens the door to Lettice’s old childhood chum and Wiltshire neighbour, Gerald Bruton. Gerald, also a member of the aristocracy who has tried to gain some independence from his penurious family by designing gowns from a shop in Grosvenor Street.
“Edith! Oh beautiful Edith! Isn’t it a glorious day?” Gerald chortles jovially as he bursts through Lettice’s front door beaming from ear to ear, clutching a beribboned box, a bunch of pink roses and a bottle of champagne. “Is Lettice home?”
“Mr. Bruton!” Edith gasps in shock as he wraps his already full arms around her shoulders and starts spinning her around the entrance hall of the flat. “Oh Mr. Bruton, do stop!”
“Gerald!” Lettice cries, appearing at the door that leads from the hallway into the drawing room. A bemused smile graces her lips as she watches the rather ungainly and awkward waltz between her best friend and her maid. “Unhand my maid this minute, you… you…” She can’t quite find the word she wants as she tries not to laugh and embarrass Edith, but finally settles on one which is most inept. “You brute.” Placing her arms akimbo as she leans against the doorframe she asks, “What on earth?”
“Oh darling Lettuce Leaf!” Gerald exclaims, dropping Edith, much to her relief, and waltzing up to his friend. “These are for you!” He thrusts the pink roses into her arms, followed by the beautifully gift wrapped box.
“Roses? Chocolates?” Lettice queries, looking down at the stylish blue tapestry covered box in her hands, too surprised by Gerald’s behaviour and expensive gifts to rebuke her friend for using her loathed childhood nickname.
“From Harrods my darling, just for you!” He spins back to the maid, who stiffens in fear of being swept up by him in a waltz again. “Oh Edith, bring a wine cooler!” He hoists the champagne bottle enthusiastically in the air. “We must have champagne!”
“Deutz and Geldermann?” Lettice questions again, noting the label on the bottle held aloft in her friend’s right hand. “Gerald you can’t afford that! What’s gotten into you?”
“Oh can’t I, darling? You just wait until you hear my news.”
Gerald goes to take a turn at spinning Lettice, but she shies away so that he can’t grasp her.
“Can you please put these in some water, Edith,” Lettice says to her startled maid in a very businesslike fashion as she hands the beautiful pink roses, obviously from Monsieur Blanchet’s Regent Street Flower Box, over to her. She turns back and smiles cheekily at Gerald. “Before Mr. Bruton crushes them in his reverie.”
“Yes Miss,” Edith replies sighing with relief at her mistress’ calm voice and reasonable request after Gerald’s unsettling behaviour, taking the flowers. “And the champagne, Miss?”
“Yes,” Lettice smirks. “Best take it off Mr. Bruton before he smashes it over his own head, or worse yet on my parquetry floor, for his own Quixote reason**.”
Gerald blushes red as he sheepishly hands the bottle of champagne to Edith, suddenly realising how erratic and peculiar his performance must appear to the two women before him.
“And bring a plate for the chocolates, Edith.” Lettice continues as she turns on her heel, clutching the beribboned box closely to her chest. “Now come along Gerald and tell me why you have chosen to interrupt me at a very exciting point in ‘The Black Moth.’***.”
Lettice and Gerald walk through the door into the drawing room where Lettice resumes her seat and Gerald sits in the tub chair opposite her.
“You gave me quite a start you know, Gerald.”
“Did I, darling?”
“I thought for a moment that I’d misjudged my days and that I had a client booked to visit.”
“You don’t do you?” Gerald raises his delicate hands with its long fingers to his mouth.
“Fortunately not.” Lettice sighs with widening eyes. “For if I had and you burst through the door waltzing and carrying on the way you did with poor Edith, they probably would have fled in a panic, thinking this a madhouse!”
“Oh don’t poor Edith me,” Gerald scoffs with a sweep of his hands. “Cinderella needs to be swept off to the ball by a handsome prince every now and then.”
“Well, kindly find another Cinderella and leave Edith alone. Poor little mouse didn’t know what you were about.” She looks over at her friend draped dramatically across her tub chair opposite her. “Not that I know what you’re about today.” She shakes her head and her eyes narrow. “Waltzing with my maid! Have you been drinking, Gerald?”
“Not yet,” He breathes excitedly with a wry smile as he swings his legs off the arm of the chair and swivels down, giving Lettice and intense stare. “But I’m hoping to with you. Once we finish my bottle of Deutz and Geldermann, I was hoping you might have a bottle or two of De Rochegré left over from the party that we could drink. I feel like getting rather tight****! Shall we?”
“Now there’s no call for that, darling,” Lettice counters cautiously. “Unless of course I know the reason for it.”
“Must I have a reason to get tight with my oldest and best friend in the whole wide world?”
“Now, now! Don’t play coy with me, darling. You’re obviously fit to bursting to tell me! What news do you have to share? What is all this about Gerald? Harrods chocolates! Deutz and Geldermann champagne! How can you suddenly afford these luxuries when just last week you were using my electricity to embroider the bodice of an evening frock for Mrs. Hatchett, rather than run up your own electricity bill?”
“Well, it is true that I’ve bankrupted myself and will need to come and eat my meals here for the next fortnight if I am to avoid starvation until I get my next pitifully inadequate monthly allowance. However, all that might be about to change, because of these!” Gerald withdraws three thick black card folios that have remained hidden beneath his left arm, handing them to Lettice with a flourish.
Lettice takes them and opens them on her lap. Inside each she finds a glossy black and white photograph from Margot and Dickie’s wedding, taken by Bassano Photographers*****. Two are studio portraits, one featuring Margot with her four country cousin bridesmaids and the other of her in profile, showing off her beautifully beaded lace bandeau****** and bridal veil. The last shows Dickie and Margot flanked by the Marquess and Marchioness of Taunton on the steps of St Marks, North Audley Street*******.
“Oh!” Lettice exclaims in delight. “Wedding photos! How did you get these so soon?” She runs her fine fingers along the edge of their gilt black card folios. “Oh,” she frowns. “Doesn’t the Marchioness look dour!”
“Oh pooh the Marchioness!” Gerald spits, flapping his hand at her image in black and white, dressed in her old-fashioned Edwardian picture hat and conservative dress, looking like a cross Queen Mary.
“I thought that was my line,” Lettice giggles, remembering saying it at the wedding breakfast the previous fortnight.
“What do you think of Margot?”
“Oh well, she looks positively radiant!” Lettice enthuses. “Just as a bride should look.”
Gerald frowns. “And gown in the photos?”
“Well you know I love Margot’s wedding gown, Gerald, darling.”
“Yes, but do you think it looks good in the photos?”
Lettice studies the photos at length, and it is only then that Gerald sees the mischievous smirk on her lips.
“Oh you!” he hisses at her, slapping her bare arm playfully as Lettice breaks into a peal of girlish laughter.
“It looks wonderful, Gerald.” Lettice assures him. “Even the bridesmaid’s dresses don’t look too frightful, not that you made them, but yes, Margot’s dress look divine, darling!”
Just as she speaks, Edith walks into the room with a silver tray, on which she carries the champagne in a wine cooler, two champagne flutes and a plate for the chocolates.
“Thank you, Edith.” Lettice acknowledges her maid as she places the items from the tray onto the black japanned table between them. “And the flowers?”
“Just coming, Miss.” Edith bobs a curtsey and retreats to the kitchen.
“So, are these the photos that are going to appear in Vogue then, Gerald?” Lettice asks her friend excitedly.
“And in the society pages of the papers too!” Gerald enthuses in return.
“Oh hoorah! I told you that this would be the making of you, Gerald darling!”
Gerald withdraws the champagne from the silver cooler and pops the cork before pouring sparkling golden liquid first into Lettice’s glass and then his own as Lettice busily starts unpacking a few of the chocolates onto the plate Edith provided, sneakily popping a hazelnut praline into her mouth before Gerald can slap her fingers away.
“Share, Lettuce Leaf!” Gerald scolds.
“I thought these were for me,” Lettice says with a mouth full of chocolate. “And don’t call me that Gerald, you know I don’t like it.”
“And I don’t like it when you don’t share!” Gerald snatches a strawberry cream and pops it quickly between his lips, smiling broadly at Lettice. “You’ve always been terribly spoilt, coming from the wealthiest family in the county and you never liked sharing your toys.”
“Rotter!” Lettice laughs. “I shared them with you.”
“Begrudgingly.”
“Well, yes.” She snatches up a Turkish delight daintily between her fingers before popping it in her mouth.
“Now who’s the rotter?” Gerald gasps dramatically in mock horror. “Gobbling up my favourite variety of chocolate.”
“Knowing Harrods, there will be another one in the box.” she replies with a self satisfied smile.
Gerald pounces upon the box and peels back the tissue paper, his eyes busily darting about the selection left inside before discovering a second Turkish delight which he quickly scoffs.
Edith returns with the roses neatly arranged in a glass vase and places it on the low table between the two smirking friends with mouths full.
“Oh Edith?” Lettice manages to say between chewing the rosewater sweet centre of the chocolate.
“Yes Miss?” Edith replies.
“Do we have any De Rochegré champagne left from Dickie and Margot’s party?”
“We have about three left, Miss.”
“Good!” Lettice replies. “Can you pull out two.” She looks over playfully at Gerald, squaring her shoulders. “Gerald and I are going to get rather tight!”
“Yes Miss.” Edith replies in bewilderment before bobbing a curtsey and departing again, retreating to the relative safety and normalcy of the kitchen.
Lettice picks up her champagne flute, and Gerald his.
“Well darling,” Lettice holds her glass aloft. “With photos like this showing off your work, here is to the imminent success of the House of Bruton!”
“I’ll drink to that!” Gerald sighs, clinking his glass with hers. “Cheers!”
*Meaning to keep calm and be patient, the earliest occurrence of the phrase “to keep your hair on” is recorded in The Entr’acte magazine in London in 1873, which mentioned that at the Winchester, a London music hall, an artist named Ted Callingham sang “Roving Joe” and “Keep Your Hair On”, two very laughable comic songs. A year later in 1874, it was being used commonly amongst the working classes. It is generally said that the phrase is based on the image of pulling one’s hair out in exasperation, anger or frustration, however some connect it to an earlier phrase from the Eighteenth Century “pulling off one’s wig” which refers to irascible and aged gentlemen, “when mad with passion,” have been known not only to curse and swear, but to tear their wigs from their heads, and to trample them under their feet, or to throw them into the fire.
**Quixote reason comes from Miguel de Cervantes novel of Don Quixote and means an impractical or idealistic reason for something.
***The Black Moth is a novel written by famous English novelist and short-story writer, Georgette Heyer. Her writing career began in 1921, when she turned a story for her younger brother into the novel The Black Moth. She wrote in both the regency romance and detective fiction genres, The Black Moth being the former, for which she is perhaps best known.
****To get tight is an old fashioned term used to describe getting drunk.
*****Bassano Ltd. Royal Photographers was created by photographer Alexander (Alessandro) Bassano in 1850. Originally located in Regent Street Piccadilly, by 1921 the studio had moved to Dover Street Mayfair. As the name suggests, Bassano was the choice for society photography portraits in London after Alexander photographed Queen Victoria and members of the Royal Family from the 1870s. The studio’s photograph of Lord Kitchener formed the basis for the Great War recruiting poster “Your Country Needs You!”
******A bandeau is a narrow band worn round the head to hold the hair in position which was at its height of popularity in the 1920s.
*******St. Mark’s Church Mayfair, is a Grade I listed building, in the heart of London's Mayfair district, on North Audley Street. St Mark's was built between 1825 and 1828 as a response to the shortage of churches in the area. The population in Mayfair had grown with the demand for town houses by the aristocracy and the wealthy, as they moved in from the country. The building was constructed in the Greek revival style to the designs of John Peter Gandy. In 1878 the architect Arthur Blomfield made significant changes to the church, adding a timber roof, and introducing Gothic style features. The thirty-four feet (ten metre) façade, together with the elegant porch, is known as one of the finest in London. Being in Mayfair, it was a popular place for the weddings of aristocratic families. It was deconsecrated in 1974, and today it is used as a mixed use venue.
This 1920s upper-class domestic scene is different to what you may think, for it is made up entirely of 1:12 size dollhouse miniatures.
Fun things to look for in this tableau include:
The three photos, which I have put into the black card folios of my own making, are all real wedding photos from the 1920s, produced to high standards in 1:12 size on photographic paper by Little Things Dollhouse Miniatures in Lancashire.
The two filled champagne flutes were made by Karen Ladybug Miniatures in the United Kingdom. The Deutz and Geldermann champagne bottle is also an artisan miniature and made of glass with a miniature copy of a real Deutz and Geldermann label and some real foil wrapped around its neck. It was also made by Little Things Dollhouse Miniatures in Lancashire. The silver wine cooler it stands in is made by Warwick Miniatures in Ireland, who are well known for the quality and detail applied to their pieces. The chocolates in the foreground have been made in England by hand from clay by former chef turned miniature artisan, Frances Knight. Her work is incredibly detailed and realistic, and she says that she draws her inspiration from her years as a chef and her imagination. Each chocolate is only one to one and half millimetres in diameter and around one millimetre in height! And yes, two of the chocolates are wrapped up in foil! The box of chocolates itself, which has chocolates affixed inside comes from Mary Jane’s Dollhouse Emporium in the United Kingdom. The pink roses were hand made by Beautifully Handmade Miniatures in Kettering.
Lettice’s drawing room is furnished with beautiful J.B.M. miniatures. The Art Deco tub chairs are of black japanned wood and have removable cushions, just like their life sized examples. To the left of the fireplace is a Hepplewhite drop-drawer bureau and chair of black japanned wood which has been hand painted with chinoiserie designs, even down the legs and inside the bureau. The chair set has a rattan seat, which has also been hand woven.
The fireplace is a 1:12 miniature resin Art Deco fireplace which is flanked by brass accessories including an ash brush with real bristles.
On the left hand side of the mantle is an Art Deco metal clock hand painted with wonderful detail by British miniature artisan Victoria Fasken.
In the middle of the mantle is a miniature artisan hand painted Art Deco statue on a “marble” plinth. Made by Warwick Miniatures in England, it is a 1:12 copy of the “Theban Dancer” sculpture created by Claire-Jeanne-Roberte Colinet in 1925.
The carpet beneath the furniture is a copy of a popular 1920s style Chinese silk rug, and the geometric Art Deco wallpaper is beautiful hand impressed paper given to me by a friend, which inspired the whole “Cavendish Mews – Lettice Chetwynd” series.