foldingscreen photos on Flickr

This pair of six panel screens painted in vivid colors on the brilliant gold-leaf background,is among the largest and most spectacular works by the artist Sakai Hōitsu anywhere,including Japan.Presenting a budding willow and cherry tree in full bloom and a pair of maple trees at the peak of their crimson glory,the screens are distinctive for their array of related springtime and autumnal plants and flowers,all with poetic significance in haiki of the period (seventeen syllable seasonal verse) of the period.While paintings by Hōitsu in the hanging scroll format abound,only a half dozen or so pairs of his screens in the six panel format are known to survive,and these in particular stand out for their originality of composition,strong visual impact,and projection of lyrical elegance-the MET

A painting on folding screen. by Sakae Baba

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A picture painted in Japanese style.

Garlic by Mimsy Portmanteau

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Looking close...on Friday: Holding

AFTERs by Nata Luna Sans

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the map is from a pad of scrapbook paper and deliberately south-up. the cats are from all over, mostly vintage.

The First Sign of the New Age by raaen99

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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.

With a loud buzz, the electric doorbell announces the unexpected arrival of someone at the front door. Putting down the piece of table silver she is polishing, Edith, Lettice’s maid, goes to answer the front door, all the while wondering who is calling. Lettice usually advises Edith of any clients, existing or potential, who may be visiting, particularly because Edith needs to make sure that there are cakes and biscuits in the pantry to offer to them. Walking across the thick Chinese silk rug in the flat’s hallway, she can hear her mistress speaking animatedly on the telephone to a representative of Jeffrey and Company* from whom she is ordering papers for the dining room of her friend Minnie Palmerston. Lettice agreed to redecorate it before Christmas after Minnie asked her to, and work is now underway.

Edith opens the door to the dashing figure of Selwyn Spencely, the only son of the Duke of Walmsford, whom Lettice has been stepping out with, when their busy social diaries allow, since meeting him at her parent’s Hunt Ball last year. In his hands he holds a thick bunch of roses, a usual accessory every time he crosses the Cavendish Mews threshold.

“Good day, Edith. Is Miss Chetwynd home?”

“Mr. Spencely!” she gasps in surprise. “This is an unexpected pleasure. Yes, do come in.” She closes the front door and shuts out the cold January in the process. “It’s freezing out there. She’s just speaking with someone on the telephone in the drawing room, Sir, but I’ll announce you’re here.”

Shrugging out of his thick and expertly cut navy blue barathea coat, damp around the shoulders and down the back due the downpour outside, he lets it fall into Edith’s waiting arms. “Oh, don’t bother, Edith. I know my way. But if you could put these in some water for Miss Chetwynd.” He hands her the deep red roses which release a sweet fragrance as he does.

“Of course, Sir.” Edith replies, dropping a curtsey to her mistress’ guest.

As she turns to go, Selwyn calls after her, “Oh Edith! There will be a man with a large package knocking at the servants’ entrance shortly. When he does, just show him into the drawing room, will you?”

“Well yes, Sir.” Edith answers, her brow furrowing slightly. “But I…”

“It’s a surprise for Miss Chetwynd,” Selwyn interrupts her, giving her a winning smile and ending the conversation.

“Now just to confirm, it is the red dioxide metallic you are ordering, not the gold. Is that right?” Lettice asks in clearly enunciated tones down the telephone receiver as she sits at her Hepplewhite desk. “I don’t want the gold. It is rather expensive paper, and I’d hate for you to make a costly error.” She listens to the representative of Jeffrey and Company at the other end as he assures her that he has the correct details for her order. “Very well. And you’ll let me know when it arrives?” She listens again. “Very good. Good afternoon then.”

Lettice hangs up the receiver of the telephone with a half frustrated and half relieved sigh. In response the telephone utters a muffled ting of its bell as she hangs up. She begins scribbling notes in her black leather notebook with her silver fountain pen and with a rasp of nib against paper, she crosses off several things from her list for Minnie Palmerston’s dining room redecoration.

“I do like to see my favourite society interior designer, hard at work.” Selwyn pronounces, announcing his presence.

“Selwyn!” Lettice spins around in her chair, her eyes wide with shock as she sees him comfortably settled in one of her round white upholstered ebonised wood tub chairs. “What on earth are you doing here?” She self consciously pats the side of her elegantly marcelled** blonde hair and brushes her manicured fingers across the Peter Pan collar*** of her navy blue frock. “I wasn’t expecting you. What a delightful surprise!”

“Yes, your charming little maid was saying just the same thing not a moment ago when she answered the door to me.” Selwyn says, rising to his feet as Lettice rises to hers. “I just happened to be in the neighbourhood, and I thought I’d pop in, just on the off chance that you were here, to see how you are, my Angel. After all, I haven’t seen you since before Christmas.” He smiles warmly at his sweetheart who blushes prettily under his observant eye. “So I wanted to wish you all the very best for the season.”

“Oh yes!” Lettice breathes. “Happy 1923, Selwyn darling!” She stands up. “Are you stopping for long?”

“For a little while, my Angel.” he replies with an amused smile.

“Shall I ring for tea then?”

“Tea would be capital, my Angel. Thank you.”

Lettice depresses the servant’s call bell by the fireplace which she can hear echoing distantly in the kitchen. Edith appears moments later carrying a bulbous white vase containing the red roses Selwyn brough for Lettice as a gift.

“Oh Selwyn!” Lettice gasps. “Are these from you?” When he nods in acknowledgement, she adds. “They’re gorgeous!”

“Where would you like them, Miss?” she asks.

“Oh, on the telephone table, I think, Edith.” Lettice pronounces, as she picks up the telephone from her desk and walks it across the room, dragging the flex behind her, back to where it belongs.

“Very good, Miss.” Edith busily removes the vase of slightly withered yellow lilies and roses that were sitting on the table and replaces them with the roses. Picking up the other vase from where she placed it in the polished parquet floor she remarks, “There’s plenty of life left in these. I’ll pick through them and rearrange them in a smaller vase for you.”

“Oh no, you keep them, Edith. It will help brighten the kitchen up.” Lettice replies.

“That’s very kind of you, Miss. Thank you.”

“Oh, and could you please bring us some tea.”

“Yes Miss,” Edith answers with a bob curtsey. “Oh, and Mr. Spencely, that gentleman you mentioned is here. He’s in the kitchen at present. Shall I send him through?”

“Man? What man?” Lettice asks, glancing first at Edith and then at Selwyn.

“Yes, if you would, Edith. Thank you.”

“What man, Selwyn?” Lettice repeats to her beau as Edith retreats through the dining room and disappears through the green baize door into the service part of the flat.

Selwyn’s smile grows broader. “All will be revealed shortly, my Angel.” he assures her calmly.

The door Edith walked through opens and a workman carrying a large cardboard box steps across its threshold. Dressed in a flat cap damp from the rain outside and taupe coloured apron over a thick dark woollen jumper and black trousers, his face is florid with exertion as he breathes heavily and walks slowly.

“Ahh, put it down over here,” Selwyn commands as the deliveryman nears them, pointing with an indicating finger to the floor next to the table where Edith put the roses.

“You might ‘ave warned me I was goin’ ta have ta climb four flights of stairs with this, Guv!” the man huffs as he lowers the box onto the floor. He groans as he returns to an upright position and removes his cap. Withdrawing a grubby white kerchief from his pocket he wipes his brow before returning his cap to his head. He dabs his face with his kerchief as he inhales and exhales with laboured, rasping breaths.

“Good heavens!” Lettice gasps. “What on earth is in that box that’s so heavy?”

“Oh it’s not that ‘eavy, Mum,” the deliveryman pants. “If youse only takin’ it from room ta room.” He wipes the back of his neck with his kerchief. “Only if youse ‘oistin’ it up four flights of stairs!”

Selwyn ignores the deliveryman’s protestations as his focuses his attentions solely on Lettice. “I promised you when I had to withdraw from accompanying you to Priscilla’s wedding, that I was going to make it up to you, and this,” He taps the top of the box. “Is it!”

“What on earth is it?” Lettice asks with excitement and intrigue.

The red faced workman opens the box lid and delves into its interior. Newspaper scrunches noisily as he withdraws a shining lump of burnished brass with three fine finials which he places with a heavy laboured huff onto the telephone console.

“It’s a wireless, my Angel!” Selwyn says with a sweeping gesture towards the apparatus gleaming under the light of the chandelier overhead. “Merry Christmas, happy New Year,” He pauses. “And I’m sorry, all in one!”

“A wireless!” Lettice gasps. “Oh Selwyn, darling!” She jumps up from her seat next to the wireless and runs around the black japanned coffee table, throwing her arms around his neck. She looks over at the gleaming piece of new machinery with three knobs on the front below an ornamental piece of fretwork protecting some mesh fabric behind it. “How generous! I love it, darling!” She breaks away from Selwyn, her face suddenly clouding. “Oh, don’t you need a licence to have a radio?”

“The gent’s already paid fur it, Mum.” the workman says, reaching into the front pocket of his apron and withdrawing a slightly crumpled envelope. “Ten shillin’s, paid for through the General Post Office****.” He hands her the envelope.

“Ten shillings!” Lettice looks at Selwyn aghast. “On top of the apparatus itself. It must have cost a fortune!”

“Oh, it does, Mum!” the workman begins before being silenced by a sweeping gesture and a steely look from Selwyn. “Sorry, Guv.” He falls silent.

Turning back to Lettice, Selwyn continues, “It’s worth it to provide some pleasure to you, my Angel.”

“Oh Selwyn darling! You are a brick!” Lettice exhales in delight as she feels his hands pull her closer to him and kisses the top of her head tenderly. “But how does it operate?”

“Our good man here can tell you that better than I can, my darling.” Selwyn replies.

“Oh its really quite easy, Mum.” the workman assures Lettice. “It runs on a battery, oh, but just be careful! It’s an acid battery,” He points to his apron where his knees are. “So just watch yerself when youse moves it. Better youse ‘n yer maid move it togevva, side by side like, than youse on yer own, Mum.” He adds. “Turn it on ‘n off wiv this knob.” He points to the button on the left-hand side. “Turn the volume up or down wiv this knob.” He turns the button left and right. “And use the middle one to tune the wireless in.”

“Tune it in?” Lettice asks.

“Yes, Mum. ‘Ere I’ll show yer.” He leans down and turns the left knob to the right and it releases a satisfyingly crisp click. “We’ll just wait for the valves to warm up.” Slowly a quiet crackle begins behind the mesh. “This ‘ere’s the speaker, Mum.” He points to the fretwork covered mesh at the top of the wireless. “Sound‘ll come outta ‘ere.” he continues, feeling the need to clarify.

Just as Edith walks into the drawing room with a silver tray laden with tea things, the wireless releases a strangulated roar, making a juddering cacophony of discordant racket.

“Good heavens what’s that awful noise?” the young maid gasps, her eyes wide in horror as she allows the tray to clatter roughly onto the surface of the coffee table.

“It’s just the wireless warming up, Edith.” Selwyn assures her in a calm voice. “Do stay and watch this marvel of the modern age.”

“Marvel of the modern age!” Edith scoffs. “That infernal contraption is more than enough,” She glares at the shiny silver and black Bakelite***** telephone. “Without us having more gadgets around here.”

“Oh, don’t be such a stick-in-the-mud, Edith.” Lettice chides her maid mildly over the sound of the wireless static.

“This, my dear Edith,” Selwyn pronounces with a satisfied sigh. “Is the sign of the new age! Soon everyone will have one of these.”

“Heaven help us all then!” Edith rolls her eyes.

“And like I says, yer tune it wiv this knob, Mum.”

The workman starts to slowly turn the knob to the right, and as he does, the static sounds change, growing momentarily louder and then softer, and then slowly the discordant cacophony of harsh sounds starts to dissipate as music begins to be heard in its place. Very quickly the static is gone and the strains of violins and piano stream through the wireless speaker as ‘Londonderry Air’****** plays.

“Well, I never!” gasps Edith. “Its like having your own private band to play for you in that little box!”

“That it is, Miss.” agrees the workman.

“Oh, it’s wonderful, Selwyn darling!” Lettice exclaims, throwing her arms around his neck before kissing him with delight on the cheek.

And just for a little while, Lettice, Selwyn, Edith and the workman all stand and look at the shiny new wireless, enjoying the beautiful music drifting from its speaker.

The introduction of a radio, or a wireless as it was then known as, is the first real change we have seen to Lettice’s drawing room since we first met her two years ago, and in many ways it represents the spirit of change that the 1920s have become synonymous with. The British Broadcasting Company, as the BBC was originally called, was formed on the 18th of October 1922 by a group of leading wireless manufacturers including Marconi. Daily broadcasting by the BBC began in Marconi's London studio, 2LO, in the Strand, on November the 14th, 1922. John Reith, a thirty-three-year-old Scottish engineer, was appointed General Manager of the BBC at the end of 1922. Following the closure of numerous amateur stations, the BBC started its first daily radio service in London – 2LO. After much argument, news was supplied by an agency, and music drama and “talks” filled the airwaves for only a few hours a day. It wasn't long before radio could be heard across the nation, especially when radio stations were set up outside of London, like on the 6th of March when the BBC first broadcast from Glasgow via station 5SC.

*Jeffrey and Company was an English producer of fine wallpapers that operated between 1836 and the mid 1930s. Based at 64 Essex Road in London, the firm worked with a variety of designers who were active in the aesthetic and arts and crafts movements, such as E.W. Godwin, William Morris, and Walter Crane. Jeffrey and Company’s success is often credited to Metford Warner, who became the company’s chief proprietor in 1871. Under his direction the firm became one of the most lucrative and influential wallpaper manufacturers in Europe. The company clarified that wallpaper should not be reserved for use solely in mansions, but should be available for rooms in the homes of the emerging upper-middle class.

**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. One famous wearer was American entertainer, Josephine Baker.

***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.

****With the advent of radio, as of the 18th of January, 1923, the Postmaster General granted the BBC a licence to broadcast. A licence fee of ten shillings was charged per wireless set sold, purchased through the General Post Office. Amateur wireless enthusiasts avoided paying the licence by making their own receivers and listeners bought rival unlicensed sets.

*****Bakelite, was the first plastic made from synthetic components. Patented on December 7, 1909, the creation of a synthetic plastic was revolutionary for its electrical nonconductivity and heat-resistant properties in electrical insulators, radio and telephone casings and such diverse products as kitchenware, jewellery, pipe stems, children's toys, and firearms. A plethora of items were manufactured using Bakelite in the 1920s and 1930s.

******The "Londonderry Air" is an Irish air that originated in County Londonderry. It is popular among the North American Irish diaspora and is well known throughout the world. The tune is played as the victory sporting anthem of Northern Ireland at the Commonwealth Games. The song "Danny Boy" uses the tune, with a set of lyrics written in the early Twentieth Century.

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 items from my own childhood.

Fun things to look for in this tableau include:

Central to our story, the brass wireless, which is remarkably heavy for its size, comes from Melody Jane’s Doll House Supplies in the United Kingdom.

Lettice’s tea set is a beautiful artisan set featuring a rather avant-garde Art Deco Royal Doulton design from the Edwardian era. The green tinted glass comport on the coffee table , spun from real glass, is also from Beautifully Handmade Miniatures in Kettering.

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 chord does stretch out.

In front of the telephone sits a paperback novel from the late 1920s created by miniature British artisan, Ken Blythe. Most of the books I own that he has made may be opened to reveal authentic printed interiors. In some cases, you can even read the words, depending upon the size of the print! I have quite a large representation of Ken Blythe’s work in my collection, but so little of his real artistry is seen because the books that he specialised in making are usually closed, sitting on shelves or closed on desks and table surfaces. What might amaze you even more is that all Ken Blythe’s opening books are authentically replicated 1:12 scale miniatures of real volumes. To create something so authentic to the original in such detail and so clearly, really does make these books miniature artisan pieces. 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 red roses on the Art Deco occasional table is beautifully made by hand by the Doll House Emporium.

Lettice’s drawing room is furnished with beautiful J.B.M. miniatures. The black japanned wooden chair is a Chippendale design and has been upholstered with modern and stylish Art Deco fabric. The mirror backed back japanned china cabinet is Chippendale too. On its glass shelves sit pieces of miniature Limoges porcelain including jugs, teacups and saucers, many of which I have had since I was a child.

To the left of the Chippendale chair stands a blanc de chine Chinese porcelain vase, and next to it, a Chinese screen. The Chinese folding screen I bought at an antiques and junk market when I was about ten. I was with my grandparents and a friend of the family and their three children, who were around my age. They all bought toys to bring home and play with, and I bought a Chinese folding screen to add to my miniatures collection in my curio cabinet at home! It shows you what a unique child I was.

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.

That Infernal Contraption! by raaen99

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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.

Whilst her mistress is enjoying a weekend in Worcestershire, Edith, Lettice’s maid is using her time to give the flat a thorough dusting and airing. As she dusts the dining room, a noise she detests bursts into her quiet, methodical cleaning.

BBBBRRRINGGG!

The telephone in the drawing room starts ringing.

Edith looks through the double doors into the adjoining drawing room. “That infernal contraption!” she mutters to herself.

BBBBRRRINGGG!

She walks in and up to the black japanned occasional table upon which the silver and Bakelite telephone continues to trill loudly.

BBBBRRRINGGG!

“I should pull your chord out next time I’m Hoovering. Let’s hear you ring then!”

BBBBRRRINGGG!

Edith hates answering the telephone. It’s one of the few jobs in her position as Lettice’s maid that she wishes she didn’t have to do. Whenever she has to answer it, which is quite often considering how frequently her mistress is out and about, there is usually some uppity caller at the other end of the phone, whose toffee-nosed accent only seems to sharpen when they realise they are speaking to ‘the hired help’ as they abruptly demand Lettice’s whereabouts.

BBBBRRRINGGG!

“Come on now Edith!” she tells herself, smoothing her suddenly clammy hands down the apron covering her print morning dress. “It’s only a machine, and the person at the other end can’t hurt you, even if they are angry that you aren’t her.”

“Mayfair 432, the Honourable Miss Lettice Chetwynd’s residence.” she answers with a slight quiver to her voice. Her whole body clenches and she closes her eyes as she waits for the barrage of anger from some duchess or other titled lady, affronted at having to address the maid. A distant female voice speaks down the line. “Oh Mrs. Hatchett, how do you do. Yes, this is Edith, Miss Chetwynd’s maid.” Her anxiety lessens slightly, for even though Mrs. Hatchett is somewhat overbearing, she is a banker’s wife and therefore not born with a pedigree that finds talking to the staff offensive. She listens. “No. No, I’m afraid that Miss Chetwynd isn’t in residence Mrs. Hatchett.” She listens to the disappointed response. “She’s down at Wickhamford Manor in the Vale of Evesham.” She listens again. “It’s Worcestershire Mrs. Hatchett, so I’m afraid it would be a bit difficult for me to fetch her.” More bemoaning comes down the telephone from Sussex. “Monday. She’s there until Monday, Mrs. Hatchett. I’m expecting her home late Monday evening.” The distress down the phone is palpable. “I can take a message for you, if you like Mrs. Hatchett.”

After receiving an affirmative reply, she deposits the receiver next to the telephone with a trembling hand. It sounds as if Mrs. Hatchett’s arm might fall off in Lettice’s absence from all the moaning she is making. Yet Edith has had enough practice with her mistress’ clients by now to know that it will be some silly inconsequential matter about her interior design plans that she will want addressed. Edith brushes her clammy palms down her apron a second time and then picks up the pencil atop of the pad of paper that Lettice left for her to jot any messages on.

Picking up the receiver she says, “I’m ready for your message now Mrs. Hatchett. Please go ahead.”

She writes a message based on Mrs. Hatchett’s distressed response.

“Now, if you’ll just let me read that back to you Mrs. Hatchett. You’ve changed your mind about the Regency stripe for the soft furnishing covers, and you want chintz.” A further burbling comes down the phone. “You want blue chintz to match the walls.” She listens to Mrs. Hatchett’s confirmation. “Yes. Yes I’ll give her that message the very moment she comes through the door Monday evening, Mrs. Hatchett. Very good. Good day Mrs. Hatchett.”

Edith hangs up the receiver and sighs with relief. “Damn infernal contraption!” she says as she glares at the telephone shining brightly in the afternoon sun.

She re-reads her pencilled message and frowns. “Miss Lettice won’t like that. She hates chintz. Oh well!” She shrugs. “That’s her problem to solve.”

Edith returns to the dining room and takes up where she left off, hoping that the telephone won’t ring again until Tuesday at least, when Lettice will be back in residence.

The theme for “Looking Close… on Friday” this week is “telephone”.

I hope that this telephone, which kept people connected in the 1920s and keeps them equally connected today is suitable for the theme. This upper-class domestic scene is different to what you may think, for it is made up entirely of 1:12 size dollhouse miniatures including items from my own childhood. The telephone you see before you is only two centimetres wide and two centimetres high.

Fun things to look for in this tableaux include:

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 chord does stretch out.

The vase of orange roses on the Art Deco occasional table is beautifully made by hand by the Doll House Emporium.

The pencil on the pad in front of the telephone is a 1:12 miniature as well, and is only one millimetre wide and two centimetres long.

Lettice’s drawing room is furnished with beautiful J.B.M. miniatures. The black japanned wooden chair is a Chippendale design and has been upholstered with modern and stylish Art Deco fabric. The mirror backed back japanned china cabinet is Chippendale too. On its glass shelves sit pieces of miniature Limoges porcelain including jugs, teacups and saucers.

To the left of the Chippendale chair stands a blanc de chine Chinese porcelain vase, and next to it, a Chinese screen. The Chinese folding screen I bought at an antiques and junk market when I was about ten. I was with my grandparents and a friend of the family and their three children, who were around my age. They all bought toys to bring home and play with, and I bought a Chinese folding screen to add to my miniatures collection in my curio cabinet at home! It shows you what a unique child I was.

The green tinged Art Deco glass bowl on the table in the foreground is a hand made miniature from Beautifully Made Miniatures in England.

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.

Miss Wanetta Ward Comes for Tea by raaen99

46 172

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 entertaining a potential new client, Miss Wanetta Ward, an American actress come to London, in her Mayfair drawing room. Lettice’s maid, Edith, is starstruck. She coyly glances at her mistress’ guest as she sets out tea and her home made Victoria sponge on the black japanned coffee table between the two comfortable tub chairs the ladies are ensconced in. Miss Ward is tall and statuesque, with striking green eyes and auburn hair fashionably cut and styled in a bob. Dressed in an orchid silk chiffon gown, her lisle clad thighs are clearly visible. Toying with a long string of pearls between her painted fingernails, she is the embodiment of the ‘new woman’: fearless, nonchalant and bold.

“Thank you Edith,” Lettice says with a bemused smile, her long and elegant fingers partially hiding it. “That will be all.”

“Oh,” Edith replies, obviously crestfallen. “Yes Miss.”

Edith retreats, somewhat begrudgingly back through the adjoining dining room and though the green baize door, back into the service area of Lettice’s flat.

“I am sorry, Miss Ward,” Lettice apologises to her guest, draped languidly across the chair opposite her. “I’m afraid my maid might be a little in awe of you.”

“Oh please don’t apologise, darling!” the American replies, her joyous laughter bursting forth. “I’m used to it. Poor little thing. Does she like the flicks*?”

Lettice ponders the answer to her guest’s question for a moment as she pours tea into her cup. “I don’t rightly know, Miss Ward. I don’t know what my maid does on her days off.”

“Well, I must ask her on the way out.” The American replies, adding a generous slosh of milk and two teaspoons of sugar to her tea.

“I do wish you’d let Edith take your hat and cane, Miss Ward.” Lettice adds, picking up her own cup.

“Nonsense, darling! Can’t be without my good luck charm!” She lovingly pats the pink silk flower covered hat sitting on the chinoiserie stool next to her chair, and Lettice cannot help but notice how perfectly her guest’s nail varnish matches her hat and dress.

“Your good luck charm?” Lettice muses. “What on earth do you mean?”

“No doubt you’ll think me odd, most people do when I tell them,” She twists her pearls self consciously around her fingers. “But every time I wear this hat, I always have good luck.”

“I must ask your permission to borrow it then Miss Ward,” Lettice moves her hand to unsuccessfully conceal her amusement. “The next time I go to the Ascot races.”

“See!” the American replies, sinking back in her seat feeling vindicated. “I told you that you’d think me odd!”

“Not at all, Miss Ward.” Lettice soothes her guest. “When you are the daughter of an old and venerable British family like I am, a certain element of hereditary oddity is de rigueur.”

“De rigueur?”

“A must, Miss Ward.”

“Oh, then I shan’t feel so conscious of flaunting my superstition around London.”

“Especially when it is such a pretty accessory too, Miss Ward.”

“Why thank you darling.” She flaps her long and elegant hand, batting away Lettice’s compliment. “You are just the sweetest.”

“Now, I believe you’ve come about redecorating your flat in Pimlico, Miss Ward?”

“That’s right!” She claps her hands in unabashed glee. “Well, it isn’t quite mine yet. I take possession next Thursday. Oh!” She continues, throwing up her right hand dramatically, her wrist coming to rest upon her forehead. “The place looks like a mausoleum at present! All this heavy clutter: thick velvet curtains, occasional tables covered in knick-knacks, stuffed birds beneath glass. You know what I’m talking about, don’t you my dear?” She reaches down and picks up her plate of sponge and takes a slightly larger than polite slice from it with her fork. “I just had to come and see you!”

Lettice smiles with pleasure, taking a sip of tea from her cup before placing it on the telephone table at her left. “So, I’m the first interior designer that you’ve visited here in London, Miss Ward?”

“Well, not exactly. No,” The American sits back in her seat blushing. “I did go and see Syrie Maugham**.”

“Oh.” Lettice frowns, unable to hide her disappointment.

“Oh, but I didn’t like what she suggested, darling!” Miss Ward replies quickly, assuring her host, fearful of having made a social gaffe and jeopardising her chance of having Lettice agree to decorate her flat. “All those ghastly shades of white…” The American suddenly stops mid-sentence, noticing for the first time that Lettice’s walls are papered in white and that she is sitting on a white upholstered chair. “Anyway,” She clears her throat awkwardly and looks sheepishly at Lettice. “I don’t think she approved of me.”

“Whyever not, Miss Ward?” Lettice asks with a tinge of pleasure in her question, feeling suddenly a little less crushed.

“I don’t think she approves actresses, period. She talked about forgoing worldly pleasures and went on about white representing purity.” Miss Ward shivers at the recollection. “Besides,” she continues. “I did hear that you did some redecorating for the Duchess of Whitby.”

“Your contacts are correct,” Lettice replies. Suspecting Miss Ward to be something of a gossip she then continues, brandishing the knowledge Lord de Virre gave her just an hour before, “What they don’t know, and this is strictly between us, you understand Miss Ward,”

“Oh! My lips are sealed, darling.” The American puts her finger to her lips conspiratorially as she leans forward, her excitement at the thought of a secret shared palpable.

“Well, I shall also soon be decorating the principal rooms of the home belonging to the eldest son of the Marquis of Taunton.”

“Really?” Miss Ward enthuses overdramatically. “The Marquis of Taunton! Fancy that!”

Lettice smiles as she picks up her plate and eats a small, ladylike portion of Victoria sponge, satisfied in the knowledge that Miss Ward has no idea who she is talking about, but being a parvenu, will quickly spread the news to those who do.

“Your sources of information are well informed about me, Miss Ward, and yet, I know nothing of you. Please do tell me a little bit about yourself and why it is that you wish for me to be your interior designer.”

“Well, that’s really why I wanted to see you, even before I saw that pious Syrie Maugham. You’re young, and bold, like me!” She looks up and off into the distance, waving her hand dramatically. “A trailblazer! I also heard that you favour oriental elements in your interior designs. I’ve just spent the last six months in the International Settlement in Shanghai you see, and I just love all those oriental designs.”

“Shanghai?”

“Yes. My brother has a club there: the Diamond Lotus Club, and I’ve been headlining there. Shanghai is so much more exciting than dull old Chicago!” she enthuses. “The clothes cost less to have made,” She grasps the hem of her skirt and squeezes the chiffon. “And the far east is so exotic and colourful.”

“Then forgive me for asking, but if you love it so much, why have you come to London?”

“Well, I loved singing in the club, but I really have my heart set on being an actress.” She takes another large mouthful of cake.

“Well, the West End is full of theatres, Miss Ward.”

“Oh, not a stage actress darling!” Miss Ward dabs at the corners of her mouth for crumbs with her beautifully painted fingers. “No, a film actress. I have a screen test at Islington Studios*** on Monday.” She tilts her head and lowers her kohl framed lids in a slightly coquettish way as though already auditioning.

“Well, you certainly have a great presence, Miss Ward.” Lettice says diplomatically. “I’m sure you’ll do splendidly.”

“Thank you, darling. I can’t disagree with you. My mother always told me that everyone knew when I entered the room, even when I was a little girl in ringlets.”

“Yes, I’d believe that.” Lettice smiles.

“And what better place for a successful film actress to entertain, than in a beautiful orientally inspired drawing room decorated by you, darling! I want bold and colourful wallpapers and carpets, oriental vases, Chinese screens.” She looks hopefully at Lettice. “So, will you take me on?”

“Take you on, Miss Ward?”

“Yes, take me on, as a client?” Her face falls suddenly, her fork of cake midway between the plate and her mouth. “Oh, please don’t tell me that you don’t approve of actresses either!”

“Oh, I’m not Syrie Maugham, Miss Ward.” Lettice replies, smiling cheekily. “And besides, it will irritate my Mamma no end if I have a film actress as a client.”

“You mean,” she gasps, clasping her hands. “You’ll agree to decorate my new flat?”

“Well, I’ll still need to visit you new home, and we’ll need to discuss matters further.” Lettice elaborates. “However, in principle, yes.”

“Oh darling! I could positively kiss you!” She drops her plate with a loud clatter on the coffee table surface and leaps up from her seat.

“That really won’t be necessary, Miss Ward.” Lettice assures her, raising her hands gently in defence in the face of the American’s statuesque form across the crowded table. “Just make sure that you settle my accounts promptly.”

“American railroad dollars good enough for you?”

“Only if they can be converted into British currency.” Lettice beams. “And, when you are a famous actress, I expect you to tell everyone who designed your interiors.”

“Oh! I’ll tell all my friends to come and see you, you darling girl! You’ll have to beat them away from the door with a hickory stick.”

“Indeed, Miss Ward.” Lettice takes another sip from her teacup.

“See!” Miss Ward replies, taking her seat again and patting the top of her pink hat. “I told you this was my lucky charm! I wore a blue beret to see Syrie Maugham.”

“Then today must be both our lucky days, Miss Ward.”

“Oh no! Enough of this ‘Miss Ward’ business. If you are to design somewhere as intimate as my boudoir, you must call me, Wanetta.”

*”Flicks” is an old fashioned term for a cinema film, named so for the whirring sound of the old projectors and flickering picture cast upon the silver screen.

**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.

***Islington Studios, often known as Gainsborough Studios, were a British film studio located on the south bank of the Regent's Canal, in Poole Street, Hoxton in Shoreditch, London which began operation in 1919. By 1920 they had a two stage studio. It is here that Alfred Hitchcock made his entrée into films.

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 including items from my own childhood.

Fun things to look for in this tableaux include:

Lettice’s tea set sitting on the coffee table is a beautiful artisan set featuring a rather avant-garde Art Deco Royal Doulton design from the Edwardian era. The Victoria sponge (named after Queen Victoria) is made by Polly’s Pantry Miniatures in America. The green tinged bowl behind the tea set is made of glass and has been made by hand by Beautifully Handmade Miniatures in Kettering.

Wanetta’s lucky pink hat covered in silk flowers, which you can see poking out from behind the armchair on the right is made by Miss Amelia’s Miniatures in the Canary Islands. It is an artisan miniature made just like a real hat, right down to a tag in the inside of the crown to show where the back of the hat is! 1:12 size miniature hats made to such exacting standards of quality and realism are often far more expensive than real hats are. When you think that it would sit comfortably on the tip of your index finger, yet it could cost in excess of $150.00 or £100.00, it is an extravagance. American artists seem to have the monopoly on this skill and some of the hats that I have seen or acquired over the years are remarkable. Miss Amelia is an exception to the rule coming from Spain, but like her American counterparts, her millinery creations are superb. Like a real fashion house, all her hats have names. This pink raw silk flower covered hat is called “Lilith”. Wanetta’s walking stick, made of ebonized wood with a real metal knob was made by the Little Green Workshop in England.

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 chord does stretch out. The vase of yellow tiger lilies and daisies on the Art Deco occasional table is beautifully made by hand by the Doll House Emporium. The vase of roses and lilies in the tall white vase on the table to the right of the photo was also made by hand, by Falcon Miniatures who are renowned for their realistic 1:12 size miniatures.

Lettice’s drawing room is furnished with beautiful J.B.M. miniatures. The black japanned wooden chair is a Chippendale design and has been upholstered with modern and stylish Art Deco fabric. The mirror backed back japanned china cabinet is Chippendale too. On its glass shelves sit pieces of miniature Limoges porcelain including jugs, teacups and saucers, many of which I have had since I was a child.

To the left of the Chippendale chair stands a blanc de chine Chinese porcelain vase, and next to it, a Chinese screen. The Chinese folding screen I bought at an antiques and junk market when I was about ten. I was with my grandparents and a friend of the family and their three children, who were around my age. They all bought toys to bring home and play with, and I bought a Chinese folding screen to add to my miniatures collection in my curio cabinet at home! It shows you what a unique child I was.

The painting in the gilt frame is made by Amber’s Miniatures in America. The carpet beneath the furniture is a copy of a popular 1920s style Chinese silk rug. 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.

The Unwanted Cloisonné Egg by raaen99

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Wickham Place is the London home of Lord and Lady Southgate, their children and staff. Located in fashionable Belgravia it is a fine Georgian terrace house.

When Lady Southgate’s seafaring brother Hector brought her a gift of a green cloisonné egg from his latest trip to China, he thought he was bringing her something she would love. Unfortunately, her taste is not quite what Hector supposed. As soon as Hector left London and set sail on his next voyage, she had Withers the butler banish it to the small Green Drawing Room at the back of the house overlooking the garden. “The Georgian wallpaper in there is green anyway, so it is much more suited to sit on the mantle in there.”

The Green Drawing Room on the first floor of Wickham Place with views over the garden, is much smaller than Lady Southgate’s preferred space, the Salon. Despite its size and outlook, the Green Drawing Room is very elegant, for it retains much of its Eighteenth Century décor in spite of the passing years and fashions in interior design. The Green Drawing Room is so named for its hand printed Georgian wallpaper featuring branches, flowers and exotic monkeys. It still retains its white marble Georgian fireplace as well. The instigator of the original décor, Georgiana Lambert - a Georgian relative of Lord Southgate - hangs in a portrait on the wall to the left of the fireplace. It, and her two favourite Meissen figurines of the Lady with the Canary and the Gentleman with the Butterfly have since been moved from their original home in the Green Drawing Room as seen here into the more modish Salon by the current Lady Southgate. Lady Southgate may be fickle about her tastes, but she was correct when she said that the green cloisonné egg would be better suited in the Green Drawing Room. It’s mauve and yellow flowers with russet leaves also suit the décor much better.

The theme for the 4th of April “Smile on Saturday” is “Egg-Cellent”, and this green cloisonné egg seemed the perfect choice for the theme. It is actually only 2 ½ centimetres in height when standing in its porcelain stand and is part of my 1:12 size dollhouse miniatures collection. Some pieces come from my own childhood including the little green cloisonné egg, which I bought at a flea market when I was around seven.

The mantle mirror is actually a small pink plastic framed looking glass. The handle broke off long ago, and I painted in black and gilded it to give it a Regency look. The two Meissen figurines: the Lady with the Canary and the Gentleman with the Butterfly, are diecast figures that have been hand painted and gilded by me. The white cloisonné vase is also a miniature which I bought in an auction some years ago. You may just notice two small wine glasses on a silver salver on the sideboard at the bottom left-hand corner of the photograph. These are artisan pieces made of real blown glass and sterling silver.

Misgivings by raaen99

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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.

Returned from her Friday to Monday down at Dickie and Margot’s Cornwall country house, ‘Chi an Treth’, and all the excitement that ensued there, Lettice has settled back into her usual London routine of shopping, receiving and visiting friends and seeing potential clients. It’s a Wednesday, and an unusually quiet one, so Lettice is taking advantage of the gap between engagements and has just sat down in her comfortable white upholstered tub chair to continue reading her latest Georgette Heyer* romance novel when the doorbell to the flat rings noisily, shattering the relative quiet of the flat’s interior.

“I’m not expecting any clients,” she muses as she listens as Edith, her maid, walks across the entrance hall to answer the door. “I wonder who it can be.”

A few moments later the mystery is revealed when Edith walks in proudly announcing, “Miss Bowes-Lyon**, Miss.”

“Elizabeth, darling!” Lettice gasps in delight, casting her book aside. Standing up she embraces her friend who is dressed in a romantic pale pink chiffon moiré dress with a fashionable drop waist and draped in a thick fox fur stole. Elizabeth’s light scent of lily of the valley envelops her. “I didn’t know you were up at Bruton Street***. Please.” She indicates to the tub chair opposite her, which Elizabeth sinks into with a sigh as she places aside her matching pink parasol, and allows the fox fur to slink from her shoulders, snaking across the back of the chair.

“I’m up from Scotland just for a few days to have a fitting for Her Royal Highness’**** wedding and run a few errands before going back.”

“Oh of course!” Lettice gasps. “The wedding! I’d forgotten you were a bridesmaid.”

“Has Gerald finished your outfit for the ceremony yet?” Elizabeth asks as she withdraws a hatpin from her straw cloche decorated with silk roses and feathers and deposits the hat on the stool beside her.

“I do wish you’d let Edith take those, Elizabeth darling.” Lettice indicates to the parasol and hat.

“Oh I can’t stay for too long.” Eliabeth assures her hostess. “The fitting awaits.” She smiles sweetly, giving a brief view of her slightly crooked teeth.

“Well I hope you can stay long enough for a cup of tea,” replies Lettice. “And a biscuit or two. Yes, Gerald’s almost finished my gown. It’s oyster coloured satin, and very plain, with a drop waist and pearl buttons down the back. In fact, the only real decoration it will have will be the lace collar.”

“Sounds wonderful.” acknowledges Elizabeth. “When I get married, I only want a simple wedding dress. I saw the photos of Margot’s wedding dress in Vogue. Gerald must have clients pounding at his door now.”

“Yes,” Lettice remarks. “I said it would be the making of him, and so far, I’ve been proven correct. I’m so happy for him. Goodness knows he could do with some luck after all the hard work he has put in to setting up his business. Now, thinking of frock fittings and weddings, how does Her Royal Highness’ gown look.”

Elizabeth taps her nose in a knowing way, replying, “I’m sorry darling, but I’m not allowed to say.” She smiles apologetically.

“Oh! Of course! How foolish of me! I was forgetting that it’s a secret. Yours too, I should imagine?” Elizabeth nods discreetly. “Never mind. I’ll be happy enough to be surprised on the big day.”

“Have you settled on a hat yet?”

“Ahh, now there I really am in a quandary.” Lettice remarks.

Edith appears and walks across the threshold of the drawing room from the flat’s dining room carrying Lettice’s silvery tray from Asprey’s****** on which sits her Art Deco tea service with cups for two and a small plate of rather delicious looking biscuits. She carefully places the items on the black japanned coffee table between the two friends before dropping a bob curtsey and retreating through the green baize door on the far side of the dining room.

“Quandary?” Elizabeth asks. “I thought you were getting Madame Gwendolyn to make you a hat.”

“Yes. I mean, I know Madame Gwendolyn has made me some wonderful hats in the past.” She pauses.

“I sense a but,”

“But I wasn’t happy with what she made me for Royal Ascot*******. I think it looked dowdy and old fashioned.”

“Oh, I thought it looked lovely.”

“Thank you, Elizabeth darling, bless you.” She reaches out a hand and squeezes Elizabeth’s elegant, yet rather cold hand. “But ‘The Times’ agrees with me in their critique of the fashions last year, and it wasn’t exactly the roaring success I’d hoped for, or paid for, for that matter.” Lettice takes up the pot and pours hot tea into Elizabeth’s cup, passing it to her friend, before filling her own. “So, I’m going to see Gwendolyn next week, but I must confess I’ve seen hats I’d prefer to wear in Selfridges’ windows along the way.”

“Selfridges? You can’t be serious Lettice!” Elizabeth puts a hand to her throat and clasps the collar length string of pearls she wears. “Wear a shop girl’s hat to a royal wedding?”

“Well why not? No-one would know, except perhaps you and I. Besides, not all of Mr. Selfridges hats are shop girl material. He has some beautiful models, directly from Paris, and exclusive to his store. They are a fraction of the price, and are every bit as fashionable and well made as anything Madame Gwendolyn can produce.”

“It sounds to me like you’ve already made up your mind, Lettice.” Elizabeth picks up a pink macaron off the plate and pops it delicately into her little round mouth, her eyes closing with delight as it starts melting on her tongue.

“Divine aren’t they?” Lettice asks. “My last client, Miss Ward put me onto the most fabulous little baker in Pilmico.”

“She’s the moving picture star, isn’t she?”

“Yes. Anyway, I haven’t dismissed Madame Gewndolyn – yet. However, I have misgivings.”

“Well, I have misgivings too.” Elizabeth adds, her eyelashes trembling with a sudden concern as fear clouds her beautiful blue eyes. “I actually came to see you yesterday, but Edith told me you were still away.”

“Oh yes, I’d gone down with Gerald to stay at Dickie and Margot’s new house in Cornwall.” She pauses and ponders for a moment. “But you didn’t leave a calling card, and Edith didn’t tell me you’d called.”

“Oh, don’t be cross with her. I asked her not to say anything as I was still in town for a few days and knew I’d catch you between engagements. So, what’s the house like? You’re going to decorate a few of the rooms, aren’t you?”

“It’s quite lovely – larger than either Gerald or I expected – about ten bedrooms, and yes I am, but pooh to all of that right now. What misgivings? You can’t be having misgivings about being the Princess’ bridesmaid now, surely? Not after all the fittings and rehearsals and such.”

“Oh no, it isn’t that. No, I’m very happy to be her bridesmaid. No, it’s Bertie******** who concerns me.”

“Oh!” Lettice picks up a chocolate macaron from the plate and pops it onto her saucer where it nestles against the rounded bottom of the cup. “Of course he’ll be there.”

“He seems undaunted by my last refusal. Queen Mary visited Mummy just before Christmas.”

“Did she take any of the Glamis china collection*********?”

“Thankfully no, but Mummy told me that the Queen is quite convinced that I’m the only woman who will make Bertie happy, and that he’s refusing to consider any other marriage proposals.”

“And you think he may propose again?”

“Well, it is his sister’s wedding after all.”

“But surely he knows that you’re actively being courted by his equerry! What’s his name?”

“James. James Stewart.”

“That’s it! Well, surely His Royal Highness must know you’ve been seen with James.”

Elizabeth sighs, her elegantly plucked eyebrows arching high. “Apparently he thinks he can win me over.”

“More likely wear you down.” Lettice remarks disparagingly, taking a slip of her own tea.

“They equate to much the same thing.”

“Well?”

“Well what, Lettice darling?”

“Well, do you love him? His Royal Highness that is,” she clarifies. “Not James.”

“Oh, I do like him!” Elizabeth sighs, lowering her teacup into her lap, her shoulders rising and then slumping again as she looks away shyly, a blush filling her creamy cheeks. “He’s dashing, and sweet. I don’t even mind his stutter, which I find quite endearing.”

“Now it’s my turn to sense a but, Elizabeth. Come on! Spit it out.”

“Well, you know my misgivings about public life. I have my own definite thoughts and ideas. To never be allowed to express them again, to not be able to think or speak freely or act as I feel I really ought to,” Elizabeth sighs again. “Well, its intolerable really.”

“Yes, I can understand that. I think Mamma would be happier if I didn’t express my opinions or ideas, never mind act as I see fit. You are coming to the Hunt Ball, aren’t you?”

“Yes of course, Lettice darling. I’ll even dance with Jonty Hastings to save your feet from too much butchery.”

“Thank you. Well, the Prince isn’t really a significant royal. I mean he’s only the Duke of York, not the Prince of Wales, so he’ll never be the King.”

“King George was once the Duke of York, Lettice.”

“Times were different then, Elizabeth. Once the Prince of Wales settles down,”

“If he ever settles down. He shows no signs of it, Lettice, cavorting with other men’s wives. He’s shameless the way he flouts them.”

“Yes, I’ve seen him with Mrs. Dudley Ward********** at the Embassy Club on more than a few occasions at His Highness’ table. Well, he’ll have to settle down, eventually. And once he does, and has children, why you and the Prince would be even further from the line of succession.”

“Oh I don’t know.” Elizabeth toys with the pearl clip earring at her right lobe anxiously.

“Anyway, if you’re sweet on James, why are you even considering the Prince?”

“James is talking about going to America. He’s being wooed by an oil company over there, who pays more than the Royal Household does. Could you really see me living in America?” She scrunches up her nose. “I’d stay in Scotland forever with all my cousins and never leave if I could.”

“No, I couldn’t. Canada perhaps, but not America. They’re so… so…”

“American?” Elizabeth proffers.

“American!” agrees Lettice with a chuckle. “Well, it’s up to you. Just because he’s the Prince, doesn’t mean you have to say yes, Elizabeth. If you have misgivings, just refuse him.” She pauses for a moment and sips her tea again before continuing, “Although refusing a marriage proposal from a prince, however minor, isn’t quite as flippant as refusing a hat from Madame Gwendolyn.”

“Oh I don’t know,” Elizabeth chuckles, picking up another macaron. “Madame Gwendolyn can be quite fierce from what I know of her, not to mention she’s Lady Sadie’s milliner too. Refusing Madame would be tantamount to committing mutiny, wouldn’t it?”

*Georgette Heyer was an English novelist and short-story writer, in both the regency romance and detective fiction genres. Her writing career began in 1921, when she turned a story for her younger brother into the novel, ‘The Black Moth’.

**Elizabeth Bowes-Lyon as she was known in 1922 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"

***Number 17. Bruton Street was the London residence of the Earl of Strathmore and Kingholme (Elizabeth’s father), and was where she resided when in the capital prior to her marriage.

*****Mary, Princess Royal and Countess of Harewood (1897 – 1965), was the only daughter of King George V and Queen Mary. She was the sister of Kings Edward VIII and George VI, and aunt of Queen Elizabeth II. She married Viscount Lascelles on the 28th of February 1922 in a ceremony held at Westminster Abbey. The bride was only 24 years old, whilst the groom was 39. There is much conjecture that the marriage was an unhappy one, but their children dispute this and say it was a very happy marriage based upon mutual respect. The wedding was filmed by Pathé News and was the first royal wedding to be featured in fashion magazines, including Vogue.

******Founded in 1781 as a silk printing business by William Asprey, Asprey soon became a luxury emporium. In 1847 the business moved to their present premises at 167 Bond Street, where they advertised 'articles of exclusive design and high quality, whether for personal adornment or personal accompaniment and to endow with richness and beauty the table and homes of people of refinement and discernment’. In 1862 Asprey received a Royal Warrant from Queen Victoria. They received a second Royal Warrant from the Future Edward VII in 1889. Asprey has a tradition of producing jewellery inspired by the blooms found in English gardens and Woodland Flora. Over the decades jewelled interpretations of flowers have evolved to include Daisy, Woodland and sunflower collections. They have their own special cut of diamond and produce leather goods, silver and gold pieces, trophies and leatherbound books, both old and new. They also produce accessories for playing polo. In 1997, Asprey produced the Heart of the Ocean necklace worn in the motion picture blockbuster, ‘Titanic’.

*******Royal Ascot Week is the major social calendar event held in June every year at Ascot Racecourse in Berkshire. It was founded in 1711 by Queen Anne and is attended every year by the reigning British monarch and members of the Royal Family. The event is grand and showy, with men in grey morning dress and silk toppers and ladies in their best summer frocks and most elaborate hats.

********Prince Albert, Duke of York, known by the diminutive “Bertie” to the family and close friends, was the second son of George V. Not only did Bertie propose to Elizabeth in 1921, but also in March 1922 after she was a bridesmaid at the wedding of Albert’s sister, Princess Mary to Viscount Lascelles. Elizabeth refused him a second time, yet undaunted Bertie pursued the girl who had stolen his heart. Finally, in January 1923 she agreed to marry him in spite of her misgivings about royal life.

*********Queen Mary, wife of King George V was an avid collector of bibelots (small decorative ornaments) and decorative arts. She was also responsible for being the first member of the Royal Family to ever do an inventory of the Royal Collections, finding many items had been “borrowed” by the great families of England over the centuries to decorate their own homes. During her husband’s reign, she recovered a vast majority of these pilfered items, returning them to the Royal Collections. For this reason, she was feared when she came to visit, along with her voracious acquisition of other people’s bibelots. She was known to remark on something pretty and then expect that it would be gifted to her as the wife of the sovereign.

**********Winifred May, Marquesa de Casa Maury (née Birkin) (1894 – 1983), universally known by her first married name as Freda Dudley Ward, was an English socialite best known for being a married paramour of the Prince of Wales, who later became King Edward VIII, between 1918 and 1929. Known by him by the diminutive “Freddie”, she was supplanted in the Prince’s affections by Lady Thelma Furness, who in turn was supplanted by Mrs. Simpson.

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 items from my own childhood.

Fun things to look for in this tableau include:

The cream straw cloche hat sitting on the Chippendale stool is decorated with pink roses has single stands of ostrich feathers adorning it. The latter have been hand curled. The maker for this hat is unknown, but it is part of a larger collection I bought from an American miniature collector Marilyn Bickel. 1:12 size miniature hats made to such exacting standards of quality and realism are often far more expensive than real hats are. When you think that it would sit comfortably on the tip of your index finger, yet it could cost in excess of $150.00 or £100.00, it is an extravagance. American artists seem to have the monopoly on this skill and some of the hats that I have seen or acquired over the years are remarkable.

The furled umbrella is a 1:12 artisan piece made of pink satin and lace with a tiny pink bow. It has a hooked metal handle.

You can just see draped across the chair on the right, Elizabeth’s fox fur stole. It is, in actuality, a mink tail attached to one of my vintage fur tippets. It is just the right size to be a thick fur stole that could have been worn by the future Queen Elizabeth, who loved furs.

Lettice’s tea set is a beautiful artisan set featuring a rather avant-garde Art Deco Royal Doulton design from the Edwardian era. The strawberry and chocolate macarons are also artisan miniatures from Beautifully Handmade Miniatures in Kettering. He has a dizzying array of realistic looking food and meals which is always growing, and all are made entirely or put together by hand. The green tinted glass comport on the coffee table , spun from real glass, is also from Beautifully Handmade Miniatures in Kettering.

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 chord does stretch out.

In front of the telephone sit two paperback novels from the late 1910s created by miniature British artisan, Ken Blythe. Most of the books I own that he has made may be opened to reveal authentic printed interiors. In some cases, you can even read the words, depending upon the size of the print! I have quite a large representation of Ken Blythe’s work in my collection, but so little of his real artistry is seen because the books that he specialised in making are usually closed, sitting on shelves or closed on desks and table surfaces. What might amaze you even more is that all Ken Blythe’s opening books are authentically replicated 1:12 scale miniatures of real volumes. To create something so authentic to the original in such detail and so clearly, really does make these books miniature artisan pieces. 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 Vogue magazine from 1922 sitting on the lower tray of the black japanned occasional table was made by hand by Petite Gite Miniatures in the United States.

The vase of yellow lilies and roses on the Art Deco occasional table is beautifully made by hand by the Doll House Emporium, whilst the taller vase of flowers to the right of the photo was made by Falcon Miniatures, who are renown for the realism and detail in their miniatures.

Lettice’s drawing room is furnished with beautiful J.B.M. miniatures. The black japanned wooden chair is a Chippendale design and has been upholstered with modern and stylish Art Deco fabric. The mirror backed back japanned china cabinet is Chippendale too. On its glass shelves sit pieces of miniature Limoges porcelain including jugs, teacups and saucers, many of which I have had since I was a child.

To the left of the Chippendale chair stands a blanc de chine Chinese porcelain vase, and next to it, a Chinese screen. The Chinese folding screen I bought at an antiques and junk market when I was about ten. I was with my grandparents and a friend of the family and their three children, who were around my age. They all bought toys to bring home and play with, and I bought a Chinese folding screen to add to my miniatures collection in my curio cabinet at home! It shows you what a unique child I was.

The carpet beneath the furniture is a copy of a popular 1920s style Chinese silk rug. 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.

Poppy Parker British Invasion by ArLekin26113

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Tea in the Salon at Wickham Place by raaen99

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Wickham Place is the London home of Lord and Lady Southgate, their children and staff. Located in fashionable Belgravia it is a fine Georgian terrace house.

Today Lady Southgate is receiving her friend the Honourable Diana Chetwynd in the Salon, and she has had Withers the butler bring in her fine Limoges tea set on a silver salver.

The Salon, situated on the first floor of Wickham Place with views across the square, retains much of its Eighteenth Century elegance in spite of the passing years and the changes to fashionable décor. The salon still retains its white marble Georgian fireplace and hand printed wallpaper featuring birds and flowers. The Marie Antoinette suite with its floral brocade is also original. The instigator of the original décor, Georgiana Lambert - a Georgian relative of Lord Southgate - hangs in a portrait above the fireplace. It, and her two favourite Meissen figurines of the Lady with the Canary and the Gentleman with the Butterfly have been moved from their original home in the Green Drawing Room into the Salon by the current Lady Southgate. There are perhaps a few more signs of the current lady of the house’s taste with two Limoges vases on the mantlepiece, a Queen Anne china cabinet filled with her porcelain collection and an Impressionist painting above the Hepplewhite bonheur du jour (ladies writing desk).

This year the FFF+ Group have decided to have a weekly challenge called “Snap Happy”. A different theme chosen by a member of the group each week, and the image is to be posted on the Monday of the week.

This week the theme, “a cup of tea” was chosen by Lisa (red stilletto),

What better way to take tea than with a Limoges tea set in the comfort and elegance of the Salon. However this upper-class domestic scene is different, for it is made up entirely of 1:12 size dollhouse miniatures, some of which come from my own childhood.

Fun things to look for in this tableaux include:

The 1950s Limoges tea set on an artisan sterling silver salver. The tea set consists of teapot, sucrier (lidded sugar bowl), milk jug, hot water jug and two cups and saucers. Each piece is stamped with a small green Limoges mark to the bottom. The set is larger and some pieces are in the Queen Anne china cabinet next to the fireplace. The sterling silver salver was made in England in 1988.

Two 1950s Limoges vases on the mantlepiece. Both are stamped with a small green Limoges mark to the bottom. These treasures I found in an overcrowded cabinet at the Mill Markets in Geelong.

A Chinese screen dating from the 1920s featuring hand-painted soapstone panels of birds and flowers. It is framed in ebony and capped with fruitwood and is remarkably heavy for its size. The reverse features Chinese scenes with mountains and pagodas.

An Eighteenth Century Hepplewhite bonheur du jour (ladies writing desk), hand decorated with leaves and gilding, made by the Bespaq company, who also made the Marie Antionette suite.

Georgian and Regency portraits of ladies and an Impressionist landscape, all in gilded frames.

A miniature Persian rug made by hand by Mackay and Gerrish in Sydney.

Two miniature diecast lead Meissen figurines: the Lady with the Canary and the Gentleman with the Butterfly, hand painted and gilded by me.

A Long-Awaited Telephone Call by raaen99

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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.

After a busy morning working at her desk, writing a list of some final tweaks to her friend Margot Channon’s interior designs for her Regency country house ‘Chi an Treth’, Lettice prepares to curl up in one of her armchairs and enjoy her latest library book from Boots*, a new romance, when the telephone rings noisily on the occasional table beside her.

BBBBRRRINGGG!

Edith, Lettice’s maid, is putting glassware back into the cocktail cabinet in the adjoining dining room and looks up anxiously. “That infernal contraption!” she mutters to herself. Edith hates answering the telephone. It’s one of the few jobs in her position that she wishes she didn’t have to do. Whenever she has to answer it, which is quite often considering how frequently her mistress is out and about, there is usually some uppity caller at the other end of the phone, whose toffee-nosed accent only seems to sharpen when they realise they are speaking to ‘the hired help’ as they abruptly demand Lettice’s whereabouts.

BBBBRRRINGGG!

“Oh pooh!” Lettice cries. “And just as I was getting comfortable.”

BBBBRRRINGGG!

“This had better not be Mr. Fulton telling me that the lorry of furnishings and hangings and papers bound for ‘Chi an Treth’ has broken down between London and Penzance.” she grumbles.

The silver and Bakelite telephone continues to trill loudly as Lettice brushes herself down and picks up the receiver.

“Mayfair 432,” she answers without the slightest trace of irritation in her very best telephone voice.

The line crackles for a moment before a clipped, upper-class male voice drifts down the line to the receiver at Lettice’s ear. “May I speak to Miss Chetwynd, please.”

“Yes, this is Miss Chetwynd speaking,” Lettice replies.

“Darling!” the unfamiliar male voice exclaims.

Lettice reddens at the familiarity of the term and nearly drops the receiver in shock. “May I ask who is calling, please?”

“Darling Lettice, it’s me,” the stranger on the end of the line says with a chuckle. When there is silence in response, he adds, “It’s Selwyn.”

“Oh Selwyn!” Lettice gasps in sudden recognition, and sits up abruptly in her seat, her face going from trepidation to a beaming smile, her eyes sparking with happiness.

Edith in the dining room, having put the glasses back into the cocktail cabinet makes to go, but Lettice waves her free left hand excitedly and beckons her maid over. Edith sighs but walks over reluctantly. As soon as she is within reach, Lettice reaches out and clasps her hand, encouraging her to stay, and refusing to let her go. She sighs again. Looking around the room she feels awkward as she overhears whisps of the conversation. She would much rather return to the kitchen and start cleaning the lidded serving dishes with Silvo silver paste, which is what she would be doing if her mistress hadn’t grabbed her as if her life depended on it.

“Darling Lettice, I’m going to be up in London for a few days.” Selwyn announces cheerily.

“When, Selwyn?” Lettice asks, almost too afraid to breathe.

“Next week,” he elucidates. “Tuesday and Wednesday. I have the designs of a house I’ve been commissioned to build for an artist couple in Hampstead.”

“How thrilling, Selwyn!” Lettice’s grip tightens around both the telephone receiver and Edith’s hand.

“Yes.” he says with a light laugh. “They’re quite progressive with their desires for designs on a new home. I was rather chuffed when they asked me to design it for them. So, I thought I’d also run a few errands whilst I’m in town. I’ll be staying at the Saville Club** whilst I’m up from the country.”

“Oh, so you’ll be quite close by then!” Lettice looks excitedly up at Edith, who awkwardly tries to evade her mistress’ eyes.

“Indeed yes. Just around the corner, really. I didn’t want Mummy and Daddy to open the London house just for a few days”

“No, I suppose that is wise.”

“And I was thinking that whilst I was in town, we might fulfil those plans that we made at the Hunt Ball.

“Plans Selwyn?” Lettice queries, a smile teasing up Lettice’s pale and full pink lips.

Edith cannot help herself and turns her head back and stares, open mouthed, in astonishment at her mistress’ obvious attempt to be coy. Ever since she returned from Wiltshire after the Hunt Ball Lettice has done nothing but talk about the handsome young Selwyn Spencely, son of the Duke of Walmsford, who was an old childhood friend whom she hadn’t seen in years. The way she spoke, the man danced like a dream and swept her off her feet that evening. Edith narrows her eyes and shakes her head at Lettice.

“Don’t you remember, darling girl, or had you had too much champagne?” His light-hearted chuckle emanates from his end of the line. “We planned to catch up when I was next in town if you were free.” He pauses for a moment and aside from a faint crackle down the line there is a palpable silence tinged with excitement and anticipation. “That is, assuming you’d still like to, of course, Lettice darling.”

Lettice pauses for a moment, giving her maid’s hand another squeeze before swallowing. “Oh yes, I should like that very much, Selwyn.” She winks at her maid cheekily. “What days did you say you would be in town again?”

“Tuesday and Wednesday. I was hoping you might be free for luncheon, or perhaps a cocktail?”

Lettice takes a deep breath before replying, “Well, I’ll just have to consult my diary. I’ve just sent some furniture down to Penzance for the house down there I’ve ben commissioned to redecorate.”

“Oh yes, I remember: your friends, the Channons.”

“You do have a good memory, Selwyn.”

“Well,” he pauses and chuckles, only this time a little awkwardly. “There are quite a few things I remember about you at the Hunt Ball.”

Lettice smile broadens on her lips as she feels a flush fill her cheeks and redden her neck. “And we still have so much to catch up on about what we’ve been doing over the last fifteen years since we were children together.”

“Yes,” Selwyn replies. “So, are you free on Tuesday or Wednesday, my dear Lettice?”

“Well, let me just check my diary, Selwyn.”

Lettice deposits the receiver on the surface of the black japanned table next to her novel and her cooling cup of tea. She reaches out and snatched as Edith’s other hand handing limply by her side and squeezes it as tightly as the other. She cannot help herself and let’s a quick little squeak escape her lips as she smiles up at her maid, who for all her attempts to be discreet cannot help but smile back. Lettice waits for a few more moments. Finally, when she thinks enough time has passed, she releases Edith’s left hand. The maid flicks her fingers back and forth, making sure the circulation her mistress cut off is restored to her digits.

Picking up the receiver Lettice says, “You happen to be in luck, Mr. Spencely. I am free for luncheon on Wednesday.”

“Oh hoorah!” Selwyn exclaims in delight. “Marvellous! I thought we might go to the Hotel Cecil*** for luncheon.”

“Oh no!” Lettice protests in return. “Everyone I know will be there!”

“You’d rather go to the Lyons Corner House**** on Tottenham Court Road?” Selwyn laughs good naturedly. “I’m sure no-one would know us there.”

Lettice sighs. “It’s not that I don’t want to be seen with you, Selwyn.”

“Then what?”

“I’m sure you’ll think me mad, but I can assure you that Mater has spies in her friends and their friends and acquaintances, who are only too happy to report what her youngest wayward daughter and her flatter friends are up to. I know I wouldn’t enjoy luncheon with you if I was forever wondering whether someone was watching us and planning on reporting every thing we do and every word we utter back to her before the day is out.”

This time when Selwyn laughs, it is a big, jolly guffaw.

“Don’t laugh at me, Selwyn, please! I know I sound quite mad, but it’s true.”

“Oh I’m sorry, Lettice darling. I know you aren’t mad. My mother does exactly the same and keeps tabs on all her children, so I know what it’s like. Now, if you told me that the potted palms in the Cecil reported back to your mother, well then, I would have to question your mental state.”

This time the pair of them laugh together, Lettice’s filled with relief.

“So, if the Cecil isn’t suitable this time, where do you suggest, my dear?”

Lettice thinks for a moment. “What about the Metropole*****?”

“I can’t say I’ve been there since the war.”

“Oh it’s very luxurious and the food is divine. I went there not long ago with a client of mine.”

“And it’s safe from your Mother’s spies?”

“Well,” Lettice admits. “Nowhere is that impenetrable, however we are less likely to find ladies dining there as we would at the Cecil, and those that are, are probably more inclined to be interested in politics and affairs of state rather than who is dining around them.”

“I’ll see if I can book us a discreet table, then, my darling girl.”

“If you would, Selwyn.”

“Shall we say one o’clock then, my angel?”

“Yes.” Lettice agrees. “Your angel…” she ruminates.

“I’m sorry Lettice. I didn’t mean to be so intimate,” Selwyn stutters hurriedly. “I apologise.”

“Oh please don’t, Selwyn!” Lettice assures him. “I was just thinking how lovely that sounds: to be your angel.”

“So, shall we say one then on Wednesday,” he pauses. “My angel?”

“Yes, one o’clock in the foyer of the Metropole Hotel. I shall see you then.”

“And I shall be counting the minutes until then, my angel.”

“Goodbye, dear Selwyn. Until then.”

“Goodbye my angel, until then.”

Lettice replaces the Bakelite receiver into the chrome cradle of the telephone.

“Well!” Lettice gasps with excitement. “You’ll never guess who that was, Edith!”

“I’m quite sure I couldn’t say, Miss.” Edith says with a downwards, disapproving look, hating having to be subjected to her mistress’ private telephone call.

“It was Selwyn Spencely! You’ll never guess what’s he’s gone and done, Edith!”

“I’m positive I’d never guess, Miss.” Edith replies, casting her eyes to the white painted ceiling.

“He’s taking me to luncheon at the Metropole on Wednesday!”

Lettice screams and jumps up and down, her long string of glass bugle beads jangling about in front of her as she wraps her arms dramatically around Edith’s neck and starts spinning her around. Edith stumbles and breaks away from her giddy mistress.

“Miss! Miss!” she chides. “Calm yourself and stop that jumping, or I’ll have Mrs. Clifford’s maid from downstairs up here in a trice, complaining about the light fixtures shaking, or plaster dust ending up in old Mrs. Clifford’s lunch.”

“Oh pooh old Mrs. Clifford and her luncheon!” Lettice laughs as she reaches out for her maid and starts dancing around with her again. “I’m gong to have luncheon on Wednesday with dreamy Selwyn Spencely, the most eligible and handsome young man in London!”

*Boots the chemist was established in 1849, by John Boot. After his father's death in 1860, Jesse Boot, aged 10, helped his mother run the family's herbal medicine shop in Nottingham, which was incorporated as Boot and Co. Ltd in 1883, becoming Boots Pure Drug Company Ltd in 1888. In 1920, Jesse Boot sold the company to the American United Drug Company. However, because of deteriorating economic circumstances in North America Boots was sold back into British hands in 1933. The grandson of the founder, John Boot, who inherited the title Baron Trent from his father, headed the company. The Boots Pure Drug Company name was changed to The Boots Company Limited in 1971. Between 1898 and 1966, many branches of Boots incorporated a lending library department, known as Boots Book-Lovers' Library.

**The Savile Club is a traditional London gentlemen's club founded in 1868, many of whose members have a common interest in the arts. Located in fashionable and historically significant Mayfair, its membership, past and present, include many prominent names.

***The Hotel Cecil was a grand hotel built 1890–96 between the Thames Embankment and the Strand in London, England. It was named after Cecil House, a mansion belonging to the Cecil family, which occupied the site in the Seventeenth Century. The hotel was the largest in Europe when it opened, with more than eight hundred rooms. The proprietor, Jabez Balfour, later went bankrupt and was sentenced to 14 years in prison. The Royal Air Force was formed and had its first headquarters here in the former Hotel Cecil in 1918. During the 1920s, it was one of the most fashionable hotels in London and was filled with flappers and young men, representing the spirit of the Jazz Age. The hotel was largely demolished in 1930, and Shell Mex House now stands on its site.

****Built by the Salmons and Glucksteins, a German-Jewish immigrant family based in London, J. Lyons and Company opened their first teashop in Piccadilly in 1894. From 1909 they developed this into a chain of teashops. The waitresses that worked in them were commonly known as Nippies as they were forever on their feet, nipping in and out of serving tables. The company also ran high class restaurants, founding the Trocadero in 1895, and hotels including the Strand Palace, opened in 1909, the Regent Palace, opened in 1915, and the Cumberland Hotel, opened in 1933, all in London. The last Lyon’s Corner House, in the Strand closed in 1977.

*****Now known as the Corinthia Hotel, the Metropole Hotel is located at the corner of Northumberland Avenue and Whitehall Place in central London on a triangular site between the Thames Embankment and Trafalgar Square. Built in 1883 it functioned as an hotel between 1885 until World War I when, located so close to the Palace of Westminster and Whitehall, it was requisitioned by the government. It reopened after the war with a luxurious new interior and continued to operate until 1936 when the government requisitioned it again whilst they redeveloped buildings at Whitehall Gardens. They kept using it in the lead up to the Second World War. After the war it continued to be used by government departments until 2004. In 2007 it reopened as the luxurious Corinthia Hotel.

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 items from my own childhood.

Fun things to look for in this tableau include:

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 chord does stretch out.

The vase of yellow roses and lilies on the Art Deco occasional table is beautifully made by hand by the Doll House Emporium.

Lettice’s tea cup and saucer is part of a beautiful artisan set featuring a rather avant-garde Art Deco Royal Doulton design from the Edwardian era.

Lettice’s romantic novel is a 1:12 size miniature made by the British miniature artisan Ken Blythe. Most of the books I own that he has made may be opened to reveal authentic printed interiors. In some cases, you can even read the words, depending upon the size of the print! I have quite a large representation of Ken Blythe’s work in my collection, but so little of his real artistry is seen because the books that he specialised in making are usually closed, sitting on shelves or closed on desks and table surfaces. This novel is one of the rarer exceptions and it has been designed not to be opened. Nevertheless, the cover is beautifully illustrated. What might amaze you even more is that all Ken Blythe’s books are authentically replicated 1:12 scale miniatures of real volumes. To create something so authentic to the original in such detail and so clearly, really does make this a miniature artisan piece. 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. I hope that you enjoy this peek at just one of hundreds of his books that I own, and that it makes you smile with its sheer whimsy!

Lettice’s drawing room is furnished with beautiful J.B.M. miniatures. To the left of the photograph is a Chippendale cabinet which has been hand decorated with chinoiserie designs. It also features very ornate metalwork hinges and locks. The Art Deco tub chair upholstered in white embossed fabric is made of black japanned wood and has a removable cushion, just like its life sized equivalent.

The Chinese folding screen in the background I bought at an antiques and junk market when I was about ten. I was with my grandparents and a friend of the family and their three children, who were around my age. They all bought toys to bring home and play with, and I bought a Chinese folding screen to add to my miniatures collection in my curio cabinet at home! It shows you what a unique child I was.

In front of the screen on a pedestal table stands a miniature cloisonné vase from the early Twentieth Century which I also bought when I was a child. It came from a curios shop. Cloisonné is an ancient technique for decorating metalwork objects. In recent centuries, vitreous enamel has been used, and inlays of cut gemstones, glass and other materials were also used during older periods. The resulting objects can also be called cloisonné. The decoration is formed by first adding compartments (cloisons in French) to the metal object by soldering or affixing silver or gold wires or thin strips placed on their edges. These remain visible in the finished piece, separating the different compartments of the enamel or inlays, which are often of several colours. Cloisonné enamel objects are worked on with enamel powder made into a paste, which then needs to be fired in a kiln. The Japanese produced large quantities from the mid Nineteenth Century, of very high technical quality cloisonné. In Japan cloisonné enamels are known as shippō-yaki (七宝焼). Early centres of cloisonné were Nagoya during the Owari Domain. Companies of renown were the Ando Cloisonné Company. Later centres of renown were Edo and Kyoto. In Kyoto Namikawa became one of the leading companies of Japanese cloisonné.

Calligraphic Landscape “The Courtyard” (中庭 Naka-niwa) (2023) Ink and acrylic on washi paper, panel 1800x2800x20mm by Mayako Nakamura

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Photo: Akihiro Nakamura

Calligraphic Landscape 中庭 (2023) 和紙に墨とアクリル絵具、パネル、蝶番 1800x2800x20mm

Cocktail Hour with Margot by raaen99

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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.

Today Lettice is entertaining her friend Marguerite de Virre, whom she has invited for cocktails to celebrate Marguerite’s engagement to Richard ‘Dickie’ Channon. Both Marguerite and Dickie are great friends of Lettice and are part of her ‘Embassy Club Set’ who enjoy the highlights of London restaurants and nightlife. The two ladies have opted for gin and tonics with a slice of lemon for cocktail hour as Edith, Lettice’s maid, places a plate of freshly made savories on the drawing room’s black japanned coffee table for them to enjoy.

“Thank you Edith,” Lettice says politely. “That will be all.”

“Yes Miss.” the maid replies as she quietly retreats to the service area of the flat.

“Well, soon-to-be Mrs. Dickie Channon, you look very pleased with yourself.”

“And why shouldn’t I be, darling? I’ve finally won the young man I’ve been pining over for the last four years.”

“So, tell me, dear Margot!” Lettice enthuses as she pours a good slug of gin into Marguerite’s highball glass.

“Tell you what, Lettice?”

“Now don’t pretend to be coy with me, Margot,” Lettice scolds as she adds a lesser amount of tonic water to Marguerite’s glass from the syphon and garnishes it with a slice of lemon. “Tell me everything! Was it romantic?”

“Well of course it was romantic! It did happen in a private dining room at Claridges.” She accepts the proffered glass from Lettice. “I suspected what was to come as soon as I saw the red roses on the table.”

“More like hoping, don’t you mean Margot? You’ve been waiting for this for an age. Anyway, I imagine the private dining room gave you more of an inkling than the table arrangement.”

“Mmmm… maybe.” Marguerite muses, sipping her drink.

“What did Dickie order for you?”

“French champagne, darling. What else?”

“Oh, that goes without saying.” Lettice remarks with a wave of her hand. “No, I mean what did you have to eat?”

“Well, it was such a shame! My stomach was so full of butterflies with anticipation that I barely ate a thing! We had seafood bisque, crown of lamb with mind jelly, mashed potato nests and green peas, salad romaine, and the proposal came just after the raspberry ice with cream arrived.”

“Don’t tell me your engagement ring was buried in the raspberry ice!” Lettice laughs.

“Oh you!” Marguerite giggles, flapping her hand with her brilliant cut diamond engagement ring on her ring finger at her friend. “You do say some preposterous things sometimes! I’m trying to be serious!”

“I’m sorry Margot, darling.” She runs a hand before her face, as if wiping the impish smile from her face as she tries to look dour as the corners of her mouth curl upwards slightly with mirth. “Alright. Serious now.”

“That’s better,” Marguerite approves as she settles back into the comfortable rounded back of her tub chair. “Then I’ll continue.”

“Did he get down on one knee to propose?” Lettice asks excitedly before her friend can say a word.

“Well, I was just going to tell you that, darling.”

“And was it wonderful?”

“Too wonderful for words, darling. Dickie’s hopeful face with flushed cheeks framed by his gorgeous golden locks: his sparkling blue eyes full of trepidation. It was more than I could have wished for.” Marguerite places a hand dramatically on her collar bone as a wistful look softens her features. “And when I said yes and flung my arms about his neck, he wrapped his arms about my waist, jumped up and spun me round in his arms!” She toys with the strand of pearls draped about her neck and down her front. “I nearly sent the table setting flying with my slippers. It really was too thrilling, darling!”

“Oh how divine, Margot darling!” Lettice enthuses. “It sounds just like one of my novels, when the hero proposes to the heroine.”

“You’ve been reading too many of those romantic novels.” Marguerite chides Lettice, eyeing two books sitting on the table next to her host. “We need to get you reading that new writer Agatha Christie’s murder mystery novel, ‘The Mysterious Affair at Styles’*. It’s a murder mystery with a Belgian detective. Quite good really.”

“Oh, what else do I have except romantic novels, Margot darling? The war killed so many eligible bachelors.”

“Lest we never forget them and their sacrifice.” Margot raises her glass.

“Indeed,” Lettice raises her glass in reply. “Lest we never forget them.”

A sad silence settles upon the two young women momentarily, as they become lost in their own thoughts about their friends who didn’t return home from Flanders fields.

“I suppose Dickie wouldn’t have been such an attractive match to your parents if Harry hadn’t died at Ypres.”

“God bless Harry!” Marguerite raises her glass again.

“God bless Harry!” Lettice raises her glass in reply. “Nevertheless, a second son with no title and only a tiny allowance. Your parents would never have agreed to Dickie as a match.”

“I would have married him anyway, even if Mummy and Daddy hadn’t approved.”

“Now who sounds like a romantic novel heroine?”

“Well it’s true Lettice,” Marguerite insists. “I would have. I don’t care about titles and all that rot like Mummy and Daddy do. I loved Dickie before he had a title.”

“Still, it does make Dickie a more desirable match for their only daughter when he will one day be the fourth Marquess of Taunton.”

“Oh, that’s ages away yet, darling! Let us enjoy the bloom of young love and a bit of recklessness before we become enveloped in managing the estate, looking after the tenants’ complaints and opening the county agricultural show.”

“I think you’ll make a very good lady bountiful, Marguerite.” Lettice giggles.

“Spare me!” Marguerite rolls her eyes to the ceiling. “Still, at least one nice result of Dickie now being heir is that his father is giving us a country house in Cornwall.”

“Oh really?”

“Yes. Well, it was to have been Harry’s, but,” she pauses. “Anyway, it’s a Regency house called ‘Chi an Treth’.”

“Chi an what?”

“’Chi an Treth’. It’s Cornish for ‘beach house’. Apparently, it overlooks a rather secluded cove.”

“It sounds heavenly, Margot darling.”

“I think so too. I’m told it’s not overly large, a cottage residence really, with only six bedrooms and one suite of formal rooms, but it does have a reception room which Dickie tells me will be suitable for entertaining. I think that will suit Dickie and I quite nicely as a country retreat when we want to get out of London.”

“Country house parties?”

“Of course, Lettice darling!” Marguerite takes another sip of her gin and tonic. “You must come, of course.”

“Of course.”

“Oh, thinking of, ‘of course’,” Marguerite adds with an awkward tone. “I’m sorry to tell you darling, but I can’t have you as a bridesmaid. Mummy has told me that I must share that honour amongst my dreaded country cousins. Such a bore!”

“Oh, don’t worry, Margot darling.” Lettice tries hard not to show the delight on her face at the thought of not having to wear a bridesmaid’s dress at Marguerite and Dickie’s wedding. “I’d already prepared myself for that news. I’ll be happy just to stand in a pew of the chapel and watch you and Dickie get married.”

*'The Mysterious Affair at Styles' was the first novel published by successful murder mystery novelist, Agatha Christie. Written in the middle of the Great War in 1916, it was published in 1920, and was the first novel to introduce Hercule Poirot.

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 including items from my own childhood.

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 behind the bottles. 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 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 chord does stretch out. In front of it sit two paperback novels from the 1920s created by Shepherd’s Miniatures in England. The vase of red roses on the Art Deco occasional table is beautifully made by hand by the Doll House Emporium.

The furled umbrella is a 1:12 artisan piece made of silk, satin and lace with a tiny pink bow. It has a hooked metal handle.

Lettice’s drawing room is furnished with beautiful J.B.M. miniatures. The black japanned wooden chair is a Chippendale design and has been upholstered with modern and stylish Art Deco fabric. The mirror backed back japanned china cabinet is Chippendale too. On its glass shelves sit pieces of miniature Limoges porcelain including jugs, teacups and saucers, many of which I have had since I was a child.

To the left of the Chippendale chair stands a blanc de chine Chinese porcelain vase, and next to it, a Chinese screen. The Chinese folding screen I bought at an antiques and junk market when I was about ten. I was with my grandparents and a friend of the family and their three children, who were around my age. They all bought toys to bring home and play with, and I bought a Chinese folding screen to add to my miniatures collection in my curio cabinet at home! It shows you what a unique child I was.

The carpet beneath the furniture is a copy of a popular 1920s style Chinese silk rug. 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.

The New, Modern Woman by raaen99

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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.

Today Lettice is sitting in her drawing room reading a book over a cup of tea from her Royal Doulton tea set when Edith, her maid, interrupts her mid paragraph.

“Excuse me, Miss.”

“Yes, what is it Edith.”

“Beg pardon, Miss, but there’s a man at the front door.”

“Well what’s his name? Show him in Edith!”

“I don’t know if I ought to, Miss.”

“Well, why ever not, Edith?”

“Well, he looks a little rough, if you don’t mind me saying. He’s a delivery man you see, Miss.”

“At the front door, Edith, and not the tradesman’s entrance?”

“Yes Miss.”

“Well that’s most irregular Edith,” Lettice ponders. “What does he want?”

“That’s just the thing, Miss. He says you are expecting him.”

“I am?”

“Yes Miss.”

Lettice snorts derisively. “I may do many unorthodox things Edith, but I’m not in the habit of arranging assignations at my flat with tradespeople. Where is he from?”

“The Portland Gallery in Soho, Miss.”

“The Portland Gallery? Oh!” gasps Lettice, throwing her book aside and straightening her skirt so it sits neatly just over her knee. “Yes! Yes! Show him in at once!”

Moments later an unnerved Edith shows a rather burley fellow in a workman’s cap clutching a small wooden crate and a crowbar under his arm into the drawing room where he stands awkwardly before her mistress, somewhat dumbstruck by his elegant surroundings.

“You must be Mr. Chilver’s man.”

“Yes mum! Said ‘e ‘ad a package for you, mum.”

“Yes! Yes! If you would be good enough to put it down here,” she indicates with a sweeping gesture to the black japanned coffee table. “And would you be a brick and open it with that rather nasty looking implement. I assume that’s what it’s for?”

“Yes mum.”

“Excellent. Oh Edith,”

“Yes Miss?”

“Could you take a couple of sixpences out of the housekeeping money to tip our man here. I’ll repay it later.”

“Yes Miss,” Edith replies bemused as she wanders off through the green baize door between the dining room and the kitchen.

After paying the man and showing him out the way he came, through the front door, the rather disgruntled Edith returns to the drawing room to find the top of the wooden crate on the floor. It reveals a magnificent bronze statue of a reclining modish woman sitting amid a swath of white tissue paper.

“Isn’t she divine, Edith!” Lettice enthuses with hands clasped in delight.

Edith’s nose crumples up in distaste. In her mind she thinks that with her short skirt above her knee, plunging neckline and coquettish pose, that the statue looks racy: indecent almost. However, she knows better than to say so to her mistress, who will only accuse her of being a prude. So, she replies politely, “I really couldn’t say, Miss.”

As if reading her mind, Lettice replies, “Oh you are such a prude Edith! You know nothing of art! This… this is the embodiment of the New Woman in bronze! She is someone you should aspire to! I think she will be the topic of many a conversation if we sit her on the dining room sideboard! Yes!”

This year the FFF+ Group have decided to have a monthly challenge called “Freestyle On The Fifth”. A different theme chosen by a member of the group each month, and the image is to be posted on the 5th of the month.

This month the theme, “make me smile” was chosen by David (DaveSPN).

There are lots of things that make me smile, so I have decided to combine different things that make me smile into my photos.

This upper-class domestic scene is made up entirely of 1:12 size dollhouse miniatures, some of which come from my own childhood. Creating a miniature world that looks so realistic brings me so much pleasure and makes me smile so much, as does researching and creating the world that my fictional characters live in. I spend hours pouring over books on inter-war life in London and pulling on my own family history and stories.

These tableaux also make me smile because I get great joy from collecting and curating antiques and curios, including my large 1:12 miniatures collection, which contain some genuine antiques and many one-of-a-kind artisan pieces.

I also smile because I think of other’s enjoyment of my photos. I sincerely hope that I have brought a moment of joy to you and a smile to your face.

This photo is dedicated to my Flickr friend Kim (BKHagar *Kim*) as the statue reminds me very much of Miss Phryne Fisher, whom Kim loves from the ABC/Every Cloud television series starring Essie Davis, and also because Kim asked specifically to see a little bit more of Lettice\'s flat. I hope I make her smile.

Fun things to look for in this tableaux include:

The beautiful 1:12 New Woman Art Deco statue that Lettice has received is a hand painted 1:12 artisan pewter miniature from Warwick Miniatures in Clonkeeffy, County Cavan, Ireland. She is named “Christianne”, and she also comes in a more risqué form as a nude.

Lettice’s tea set is a beautiful artisan set featuring a rather avant-garde Art Deco Royal Doulton design from the Edwardian era. The glass bowl with green accents is another 1:12 miniature artistan piece. Blown from real glass, it is made my Beautifully Handmade Miniatures in Kettering, England

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 right of the fireplace is a Chippendale cabinet which has been hand decorated with chinoiserie designs. It also features very ornate metalwork hinges and locks.

The Chinese folding screen in the background I bought at an antiques and junk market when I was about ten. I was with my grandparents and a friend of the family and their three children, who were around my age. They all bought toys to bring home and play with, and I bought a Chinese folding screen to add to my miniatures collection in my curio cabinet at home! It shows you what a unique child I was.

In front of the screen on a pedestal table stands a miniature cloisonné vase from the early Twentieth Century which I also bought when I was a child. It came from a curios shop. Cloisonné is an ancient technique for decorating metalwork objects. In recent centuries, vitreous enamel has been used, and inlays of cut gemstones, glass and other materials were also used during older periods. The resulting objects can also be called cloisonné. The decoration is formed by first adding compartments (cloisons in French) to the metal object by soldering or affixing silver or gold wires or thin strips placed on their edges. These remain visible in the finished piece, separating the different compartments of the enamel or inlays, which are often of several colours. Cloisonné enamel objects are worked on with enamel powder made into a paste, which then needs to be fired in a kiln. The Japanese produced large quantities from the mid Nineteenth Century, of very high technical quality cloisonné. In Japan cloisonné enamels are known as shippō-yaki (七宝焼). Early centres of cloisonné were Nagoya during the Owari Domain. Companies of renown were the Ando Cloisonné Company. Later centres of renown were Edo and Kyoto. In Kyoto Namikawa became one of the leading companies of Japanese cloisonné.

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. Also made by Warwick Miniatures in Ireland, it is a 1:12 copy of the “Theban Dancer” sculpture created by Claire-Jeanne-Roberte Colinet in 1925.

The vase of yellow roses and oriental lilies is an amazing 1:12 miniature made by the Falcon Company, who specialise in high quality, realistic 1:12 miniatures, and they are well known for their floral arrangements.

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.

Faint Heart and All That by raaen99

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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.

Friends of Lettice and Gerald, newlyweds Margot and Dickie Channon, have been gifted a Recency country “cottage residence” called ‘Chi an Treth’ (Cornish for ‘beach house’) as a wedding gift by the groom’s father, the Marquess of Taunton. Margot in her desire to turn ‘Chi an Treth’ from a dark Regency house to a more modern country house flooded with light, has instructed Lettice to dispose of some of the darker historical pieces of furniture from the house and replace them with newer, lighter pieces. This idea rather upset Lettice, who has a very strong sense of history. Fortunately, Gerald came up with the idea that she can repaint and re-purpose a few pieces, thus satisfying Margot’s desires for lighter and newer pieces, whilst also keeping the history of furnishings intact within ‘Chi an Treth’.

It is evening and Lettice is standing on a white drop sheet, considering a Regency demilune table* that she has painted creamy white before her. Whilst she contemplates, her old childhood chum, Gerald, 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, is draped languidly across one of her Art Deco tub arm chairs with a half drunk glass of champagne in one hand and a half finished jacket of fetching navy blue and white lying across his lap as he carefully stitches red piping along the Peter Pan collar**. Not uncommonly the two keep each other company as they work. For Lettice, it is companionable time spent with her dear friend, and for Gerald, whose finances are somewhat straitened, it saves him money using Lettice’s electricity and dining, quite literally, on her largesse.

“You know it won’t paint itself Lettuce Leaf.” remarks Gerald as he looks up from his work, pulling up a long red thread between his fingers.

“Don’t call me that Gerald!” Lettice quips at her friend. “We aren’t children anymore. You know I don’t like it.”

“I’ll stop calling you Lettuce Leaf when you start to paint that table, rather than prevaricating and procrastinating.”

“Do you promise, Gerald?” Lettice asks, looking back at her friend over her shoulder.

“No,” Gerald admits as she begins to stitch again. “Of course I don’t.” He pauses and looks up at Lettice again. “But you have to paint that table, come what may. Margot has agreed that you could re-purpose any pieces of furniture from ‘Chi an Treth’ that you like.”

“Oh I don’t know, Gerald.” Lettice groans in reply as she runs her hand over the smooth pearlescent white surface. “What if I’ve made a mistake and just ruined a perfectly beautiful piece of furniture with some white house paint.”

“Nonsense, darling girl!” he scoffs in reply. “You’ll only ruin it, if you don’t paint it.”

“I wish you’d never talked me into the idea of hand painting Margot’s furniture, Gerald.”

“I’m beginning to wish the same myself,” Gerald mutters in reply as he observes his friend surrounded by her paints and palette gripped by stifling indecision.

The sight of his best friend biting her left thumbnail distractedly as she gazes painfully at the table fills Gerald with a mixture of pity and resolve. He roughly stabs his needle into a piece of completed piping on the collar, sighs and puts the jacket aside on the black japanned coffee table between his chair and Lettice’s usual seat. With a groan, he manoeuvres himself in his seat until he is in a position where he can get up easily from it. He meanders around the table and over to Lettice where he drapes an arm around her shoulder comfortingly. She leans into him and places her head against his collarbone.

“I don’t know why you are being such a silly goose and doubting yourself, Lettuce Leaf.” His remark is rewarded with a flapping sulky slap to his left hand as it hangs loosely by his side. He steps away slightly, dropping his arm from around her and grasps her upper arms with his hands. Crouching slightly so he can catch her downward glance beneath Lettice’s fringe he continues, “You have so much talent. You know you do. Look at all the fine interiors you have done so far. You convinced Mrs. Hatchett not to have floral chintz wallpaper.”

“Pity I couldn’t convince her not to have her soft furnishings upholstered in the stuff.” Lettice counters poutily.

“You gave Wanetta Ward a flat that every moving picture star either side of the Atlantic Ocean would kill to have.”

Lettice allows the briefest of smiles to grace her lips.

Gerald smiles and continues softly, “That’s your artistry at work. You know you have the skill. Even if you didn’t, you have your Aunt Eglantine and I telling you how bursting with artistic strength you are. Faint heart and all that, eh?” He glances over at the untouched table.

“Oh, very well Gerald. I’ll do it!”

“That’s my Lettuce Leaf!” Gerald sighs proudly as he embraces her. “Now, show me the design again.”

She picks up a piece of paper, slightly worried at the edges by constant fingering, and hands it to her friend.

“So you see,” she points. “I have a central footed urn from which I have snaking acanthus leaves sprouting to either side. It harks back to Regency designs.”

“But against a pale background, and with a lighter touch, it will suit Margot’s more modern tastes, whilst at the same time being truthful to ‘Chi an Treth’s’ origins.” Gerald says with a knowing look.

“Exactly.” Lettice sighs.

“Well then!” Gerald says matter-of-factly, holding the sheet back out to her. “Best get on with it!”

Whilst her friend wanders back to his perch on her Art Deco tub chair and takes up his sewing, Lettice starts to mix her oil paints. She squeezes a worm of base yellow from a silver tube, before uncapping a deep red. She adds a touch of it to the yellow and smiles with satisfaction as she darkens it. Taking up her tube of blue, she squeezes it onto her palette and carefully adds it a little at a time to the yellow to darken and desaturate it. Satisfied with her shade of ochre, she takes up a thick brush, dabs it in the paint and carefully starts to paint the central footed urn with definite strokes.

Sensing movement in the periphery of his vision, Gerald glances up momentarily to see his friend bent over the table, her palette locked through her crooked left thumb, her right arm moving in sweeping gestures as she starts to paint the tendrils of acanthus. He smiles triumphantly to himself, but allows himself no more celebration until the task is complete, and returns to his own work, remaining silent as he allows Lettice’s artistry to work its magic.

Lettice picks up a tube of russet paint, squeezing a small amount onto her paint covered palette. Discarding the tube on the floor, where its thud is deadened by the drop sheet, she grasps her tube of ebony and dabs the smallest amount next to the russet, before gently mixing a little of the black into the red, deepening it. She sets aside her thicker brush, depositing it into a Victorian jug containing linseed oil and takes up a smaller brush which she uses to make a pattern around the top and down the front of the urn. The droplets look like rubies imbedded in the golden ochre of the pot. Squeezing some white onto her palette, she adds some of the black she hasn’t used to it and mixes up a pale grey.

Unaware that she is being discreetly observed from across the room by her friend, Lettice picks up her tube of ultramarine, she pushes out a small pool of shiny blue paint and carefully mixes it, little by little with the grey until she has a bluish dove grey. Taking up her finer brush again, she paints sinewy strokes between the ochre tendrils to which she then adds more stylised acanthus leaves.

Finally, with a sigh, Lettice discards her bush onto her paint palette. It lands with a clatter against three others she has been using. “There!” she says with a satisfied huff.

“Done, darling?” Gerald asks casually, without looking up from his careful stitching of the red piping around the white collar of the jacket, carefully containing his excitement and apprehension.

“I think so.” Lettice says with a lilt of relief in her voice.

“May I see it, then?”

“Of course, Gerald!” Lettice exclaims. “I want you to be the very first to see it!”

Gerald swivels himself again, and carefully putting the jacket aside, he walks over to where Lettice stands, and he shuffles alongside her. The pair stand in silence for a short while, the Art Deco clock ticking on the mantlepiece the only noise emanating throughout the room.

“Well?” Lettice asks pensively, her hand raising to her lips. “What do you think?”

For a moment Gerald can’t answer. Arching his eyebrow over his left eye he shakes his head slightly and says with a proud smile turning up the corners of his mouth, “I think it’s beautiful.”

“Really?”

“Really, darling,” he responds almost in a whisper of awe. “And, I think Margot is going to love it.”

*Co-opting the French word for “half moon,” the demilune table is an accent table featuring an elegant, rounded front and a flat back. A demilune's flat back allows it to sit flush against a wall, making it a striking substitution for a standard console table or credenza.

**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.

For anyone who follows my photostream, you will know that I collect and photograph 1:12 size miniatures, so although it may not necessarily look like it, but this artistic scene is in fact made up of 1:12 size artisan miniatures from my collection, including pieces from my own childhood.

Fun things to look for in this tableau include:

The Georgian style demilune table, central to our story is an artisan miniature from Lady Mile Miniatures in the United Kingdom. Painted white and then aged, it has been hand painted with a Georgian style design on its surface.

The Limoges style jug, paints, paint brushes and paint palette on the table and footstool were all acquired from Melody Jane Doll House Suppliers in the United Kingdom.

Lettice’s drawing room is furnished with beautiful J.B.M. miniatures. To the left of the photograph is a Chippendale cabinet which has been hand decorated with chinoiserie designs. It also features very ornate metalwork hinges and locks. To the right of the photograph you can see a chair made of black japanned wood which has been hand painted with chinoiserie designs down the arms of the chair. The chair set has a rattan seat, which has also been hand woven.

The Chinese folding screen in the background I bought at an antiques and junk market when I was about ten. I was with my grandparents and a friend of the family and their three children, who were around my age. They all bought toys to bring home and play with, and I bought a Chinese folding screen to add to my miniatures collection in my curio cabinet at home! It shows you what a unique child I was.

In front of the screen on a pedestal table stands a miniature cloisonné vase from the early Twentieth Century which I also bought when I was a child. It came from a curios shop. Cloisonné is an ancient technique for decorating metalwork objects. In recent centuries, vitreous enamel has been used, and inlays of cut gemstones, glass and other materials were also used during older periods. The resulting objects can also be called cloisonné. The decoration is formed by first adding compartments (cloisons in French) to the metal object by soldering or affixing silver or gold wires or thin strips placed on their edges. These remain visible in the finished piece, separating the different compartments of the enamel or inlays, which are often of several colours. Cloisonné enamel objects are worked on with enamel powder made into a paste, which then needs to be fired in a kiln. The Japanese produced large quantities from the mid Nineteenth Century, of very high technical quality cloisonné. In Japan cloisonné enamels are known as shippō-yaki (七宝焼). Early centres of cloisonné were Nagoya during the Owari Domain. Companies of renown were the Ando Cloisonné Company. Later centres of renown were Edo and Kyoto. In Kyoto Namikawa became one of the leading companies of Japanese cloisonné.

The drop sheet to protect Lettice’s Mayfair drawing room floor is really the corner of an ordinary bed sheet.

A Fashion First for a Royal Wedding by raaen99

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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 a few days before the wedding of Her Royal Highness, Princess Mary* to Viscount Lascelles at Westminster Abbey, to which both Lettice and her childhood friend Gerald Bruton, have been invited, amongst other friends from their Embassy Club coterie. Gerald, also a member of the aristocracy, has tried to gain some financial independence from his impecunious family by designing gowns from a shop in Grosvenor Street. With some recent good press in Vogue after a wedding gown he designed for his and Lettice’s friend Margot de Virre featured, he has attained some modest success, and a few of his creations will grace female guests at the wedding. This hasn’t stopped him from making a frock of oyster satin with pearl buttons and a guipure lace** Peter Pan collar*** for Lettice to wear to the ceremony and he has just arrived at her Cavendish Mews flat with it in hand to deliver to her in person, only to discover that she is out on an errand.

“Oh Edith, is he still here?” Lettice gasps breathlessly as the front door to her flat is opened by her maid. “It took such an effort to get back here.” She places a slightly clammy glove clad hand on Edith’s shoulder as she tries to catch her breath.

“Mr. Bruton Miss?” Edith asks in surprise at her mistress’ flustered and panting state. When her question is responded to with an affirmative nod, she continues. “He’s only just arrived with your frock for the wedding, Miss. He’s in the drawing room.”

“Oh good!” Lettice sighs, quickly hurrying through the door into the drawing room without even taking off her coat or hat or depositing her parasol into the umbrella stand. “I’ll see him now.”

Edith shakes her head in puzzlement at her mistress as she watches her go, a large pink and white candy striped hat box with a green ribbon trim clutched in her arms along with her snakeskin handbag.

“Thank god you’re still here, Gerald darling!” cries Lettice, bursting into the room and charging across its length. Depositing the large round box on the black japanned coffee table along with her handbag, she drops her stub handled parasol next to her chair. Suitably freed of impediments, she embraces her friend in an enveloping hug of velvet, fur and Habanita****. “Sorry, the traffic getting back was so appalling that I gave up at Bourdon Street and ran the rest of the way!”

“You ran?” Gerald looks surprised at his dear friend. “I thought the daughter of a viscount never ran.”

“Well, they don’t,” she elucidates, shrugging off her velvet and fur coat, casting it across the room where it lands with a crumpled sigh onto a black japanned Chippendale chair. “Unless they are desperate to catch their friend before he leaves.”

“Well, I’m here, aren’t I Lettuce Leaf?”

Lettice slaps him with the velvet toque she has just removed from her head. “You’re a beast, Gerald Bruton!”

“What?” Gerald laughs as he dodges the flapping hat.

“You know perfectly well, what!” Lettuce scolds. “Will you never tire of calling me by my loathed childhood nickname?”

“Not as long as it peeves you, Lettuce Leaf!”

She slaps him kittenishly again. “And if it isn’t a pet peeve any longer?”

“Then you won’t care if I call you Lettuce Leaf or not.”

His response is rewarded with another few wallops from her hat until he finally begs for mercy, as both of them bust into fits of childish giggles.

“So, what is it that you so desperately needed to see me for, darling?” Gerald finally manages to ask.

Tossing the hat on top of her discarded coat, she turns back to Gerald. “This, darling.” she says with a conspiratorial smile as she pats the top of the round cardboard box which is decorated prettily with pink and green ribbons, a scrunch of frothy white lace and an artificial flower.

Gerald looks down at the box, but is singularly unimpressed by it. “A box? What do I care for a box, and more importantly, why do you, darling?”

“Oh it isn’t the box, Gerald. Don’t be dim!” Lettice laughs. “It’s what’s inside.”

“Well show me then!” He uncrosses his arms for a moment to flip his left hand at it dismissively before returning to his bemused stance with arms akimbo. “You have my attention.”

Lettice tears the lid from the box excitedly and delves into a froth of noisy, snowy white tissue paper before withdrawing a beautiful hat of straw – not quite a cloche and not quite a picture hat but something in between – decorated with a lustrous oyster coloured satin ribbon, three white feathers and a rather fetching peach coloured ornamental flower. As she lifts it out, a receipt flutters face down onto the tabletop. Gerald goes to pick it up. “No! No! No!” Lettice says, brushing his hand away before placing the hat neatly over her coiffed blonde Marcelle***** waves. Positioning herself in a rather dramatic, yet elegant pose, she asks, “What do you think, Gerald?”

“I say darling!” Gerald gasps, his hands rising to his mouth where a broad smile appears. “That’s a rather natty looking chapeau!”

“Good enough to go with your frock to Princess Mary’s wedding?”

“I should say so!” Then he pauses for a moment and ponders the cardboard packaging again. “But that isn’t a Madame Gwendolyn hatbox.”

“No, it isn’t,” Lettice replies with a smirk, but says no more as she places the hat on the tabletop next to the hatbox and the receipt, which still lies face down. Gerald quickly reaches again for the latter, but Lettice snatches it up in her own hands before he can reach it. “No! No! No!” she repeats, wagging a finger warningly at her friend.

Gerald looks at the hat again, and then at the mischievous look on Lettice’s pretty face. “Well then? Who made it? You have me intrigued.”

“Well, I’m going to create a fashion first at the royal wedding.” Lettice announces mysteriously.

“It’s a beautiful chapeau darling, but I’d hardly say that it’s a fashion first.”

Lettice holds up a finger to silence him, before then revealing the printed side of the receipt. Gerald’s eyes grow wide as he takes in the typed letters and logo at the top.

“Selfridges? You bought this hat at Selfridges?” he splutters unbelievably. “But it’s so…”

“Stylish?”

“Very à la mode! I can scarcely believe it!”

“Well, not everything Mr. Selfridge has is fit only for shop girls and typists, Gerald, contrary to what you and others may believe. He has some Parisian models exclusively for his department store. And it only cost me nine pounds, nine and sixpence! Can you believe that rogue Madame Gwendolyn was going to charge me nine pounds alone just to refurbish an existing hat of hers that she hasn’t been able to sell with some new ribbons and frou-frou?”

“Well, this is far better value for money, I must say.” Gerald picks up the hat and takes a closer look at the fine stitching around the hatband and how seamlessly the ornamental flower appears to be affixed.

“And that’s how I’m going to create a fashion first at Princess Mary’s wedding!” Lettice claps her hands in delight.

Gerald looks at her perplexed for a moment, then glances at the hat and them back into Lettice’s mirth filled face. His eyes widen again. “Surely… surely not, Lettice! You can’t!” he splutters.

“Why not Gerald?”

“It’s a royal wedding for heaven’s sake! You can’t seriously expect to wear a hat from Selfridges to a royal wedding? You’re the youngest daughter of the Viscount Wrexham!”

“No-one would actually know it was a Selfridges hat, Gerald, except you and me, oh and Elizabeth Bowes-Lyon****** because I alluded to my potential plan when I saw her a few days ago.”

“Oh wonderful!” Gerald throws his hands in the air in despair. “You told one of Her Royal Highness’ bridesmaids!”

“Elizabeth won’t say anything, Gerald.” Lettice assures her friend. “Anyway, she’ll be far too busy on the day with bridesmaids duties to even see my hat, never mind pass remarks on it.”

“And what will Sadie say, when she finds out?”

“She doesn’t need to know any more than anyone else, Gerald. I’m surprised you’d even countenance the idea.” Lettice casts an astonished look at her friend. “I think I’d rather tell Her Royal Highness that it’s a Selfridges hat than tell Mater!”

“Well, she’ going to know it isn’t from Madame Gwendolyn, because it isn’t, and that’s where she gets her hats from, including the one she will be wearing to Westminster Abbey, I’m sure.”

“Oh, I’ll just tell her that I’ve found a fabulous new designer who is more representative of the modern woman.” Lettice remarks offhandedly. “Those last two words will be enough to stop her making further enquiries.”

“Imagine a Selfridges hat at a royal wedding,” chuckles Gerald. “You’ll bring the establishment down yet, Lettice darling, piece by piece, with your modern woman thoughts.”

Contrary to popular belief, fashion at the beginning of the Roaring 20s did not feature the iconic cloche hat as a commonly worn head covering. Although invented by French milliner Caroline Reboux in 1908, the cloche hat did not start to gain popularity until 1922, so in early 1922 when this story is set, picture hats, a hangover from the pre-war years, were still de rigueur in fashionable society. Although nowhere near as wide, heavy, voluminous or as ornate as the hats worn by women between the turn of the Twentieth Century and the Great War, the picture hats of the 1920s were still wide brimmed, although they were generally made of straw or some lightweight fabric and were decorated with a more restrained touch. For somewhere as socially important as Princess Mary’s 1922 wedding, a matching hat, parasol, handbag or reticule and gloves to go with a lady’s chosen frock were essential.

*Mary, Princess Royal and Countess of Harewood (1897 – 1965), was the only daughter of King George V and Queen Mary. She was the sister of Kings Edward VIII and George VI, and aunt of Queen Elizabeth II. She married Viscount Lascelles on the 28th of February 1922 in a ceremony held at Westminster Abbey. The bride was only 24 years old, whilst the groom was 39. There is much conjecture that the marriage was an unhappy one, but their children dispute this and say it was a very happy marriage based upon mutual respect. The wedding was filmed by Pathé News and was the first royal wedding to be featured in fashion magazines, including Vogue.

**Guipure lace is a delicate fabric made by twisting and braiding the threads to craft incredible designs that wows the eye. Guipure lace fabrics distinguish themselves from other types of lace by connecting the designs using bars or subtle plaits instead of setting them on a net.

***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.

****Molinard Habanita was launched in 1921. Molinard say that Habanita was the first women’s fragrance to strongly feature vetiver as an ingredient – something hitherto reserved for men, commenting that ‘Habanita’s innovative style was eagerly embraced by the garçonnes – France’s flappers – and soon became Molinard’s runaway success and an icon in the history of French perfume.’ Originally conceived as a scent for cigarettes – inserted via glass rods or to sprinkle from a sachet – women had begun sprinkling themselves with it instead, and Molinard eventually released it as a personal fragrance.

*****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. One famous wearer was American entertainer, Josephine Baker.

******Elizabeth Bowes-Lyon as she was known in 1922 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" She was one of Princess Mary’s eight bridesmaids at her 1922 wedding.

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 items from my own childhood.

Fun things to look for in this tableau include:

Lettice’s elegant Selfridges straw hat sitting on the black japanned coffee table is decorated with an oyster satin ribbon, three feathers and an ornamental flower. The maker for this hat is unknown, but I acquitted it through Doreen Jeffries’ Small Wonders Miniatures in the United Kingdom. 1:12 size miniature hats made to such exacting standards of quality and realism as this one is are often far more expensive than real hats are. When you think that it would sit comfortably on the tip of your index finger, yet it could cost in excess of $150.00 or £100.00, it is an extravagance. American artists seem to have the monopoly on this skill and some of the hats that I have seen or acquired over the years are remarkable.

The beautiful coloured card hatbox came from an online stockist of miniatures on E-Bay, whilst the receipt is a 1:12 miniature receipt, produced to exacting standards by Little Things Dollhouse Miniatures in Lancashire. Lettice’s snakeskin handbag with its golden clasp and chain also comes from Doreen Jeffries’ Small Wonders Miniatures in the United Kingdom.

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 chord does stretch out.

Next to the telephone stands a glass vase containing blue dried flowers (although you can’t see the flowers in the photo). The vase is made of hand spun glass. These items I have had since I was a teenager when I acquired them from a high street doll and miniatures stockist.

The red elephant to the upper right-hand corner of the photo is actually a glass bead and used to be part of a necklace which fell apart long before I bought it. It and many other elephants from the necklace in red and white glass came in a box of bits I thought would make good miniature editions that I bought at a flea market some fifteen years ago.

Lettice’s drawing room is furnished with beautiful J.B.M. miniatures. The black japanned wooden chair is a Chippendale design and has been upholstered with modern and stylish Art Deco fabric. The mirror backed back japanned china cabinet is Chippendale too. On its glass shelves sit pieces of miniature Limoges porcelain including jugs, teacups and saucers, many of which I have had since I was a child.

To the left of the Chippendale chair stands a blanc de chine Chinese porcelain vase, and next to it, a Chinese screen. The Chinese folding screen I bought at an antiques and junk market when I was about ten. I was with my grandparents and a friend of the family and their three children, who were around my age. They all bought toys to bring home and play with, and I bought a Chinese folding screen to add to my miniatures collection in my curio cabinet at home! It shows you what a unique child I was.

The carpet beneath the furniture is a copy of a popular 1920s style Chinese silk rug. 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.

Winter gardens by Joana

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Although I've been greatly enjoying the red color of the dried ferns in the woods when it rains, along with the jewel green of wet moss on old stone walls, I am, and I think I will always be, a sun creature, longing for its warm embrace, pretty much like a lizard :)

This photo was take in January, on one of those rare days when we got to see the sun out!

Baby It's You's dress is sold out but IT Airways is modeling one of which I still have a couple ;)

Folding Screen by As Miniaturas do Tocas

Hand bag by Chicle de Fresa

Bracelet by Bogostick

Poppy Parker British Invasion by ArLekin26113

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Calligraphic Landscape “The Courtyard” (中庭 Naka-niwa) (2023) Ink and acrylic on washi paper, panel 1800x2800x20mm by Mayako Nakamura

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Calligraphic Landscape 中庭 (2023) 和紙に墨とアクリル絵具、パネル、蝶番 1800x2800x20mm

Nothing to wear by Joana

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How is it possible that my dolls have nothing to wear? ;)

Fortunately, Brigitte had this lovely beach towel made by Victoria Barbie Designs to cover up while I was finishing a few items! The folding screen was made by the Portuguese artisan "As Miniaturas do Tocas" :)

MORGANA - PINK 8394 by Cortez77_fr same nickname on Ipernity

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Triangle.

Morgana F.

Make-up artist, hair and light assistant : Miu

Biombo con percha by Francisco Alvarez Bao

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Marilyn for ever !!!

www.youtube.com/watch?v=aYaNZb_0_Mk

Bathroom by Di Di

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Modern blue + white living room: 'Galapagos Turquoise' by Benjamin Moore by SarahKaron

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Blogged about at roomlust.blogspot.com.

I love this combination of white, chocolate, camel, and peacock blue.

Photo by David Nicolas, Domino, April 2006.

#biombo #mampara #foldingscreen #paravent #soumaya #museum #museosoumaya @museo_soumaya #mexico #cdmx #art by Cheshire47

A Supper Buffet for Ball or Reception from Mrs. Beeton's Book of Household Management. Digitally enhanced from our own 1923 edition. by Free Public Domain Illustrations by rawpixel

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Free download under CC Attribution (CC BY 4.0). Please credit the artist and rawpixel.com.

Antique illustrations from our own 1923 edition of Mrs. Beeton's Household Management or Mrs. Beeton Cookery book edited by Isabella Beeton. This book was known as "an extensive guide to running a household in Victorian Britain" that described the arts of making and keeping a comfortable home. This book was a fruitful source for household chores and cookery. The mouthwatering illustrations of delicious food and tasty pastries were designed by skillful artists. We have digitally enhanced these plates into high resolution printable quality. They are free to download under the CC0 license. Also, these illustrations are free to use for either personal or commercial purpose.

Higher resolutions with no attribution required can be downloaded: https://www.rawpixel.com/board/1266632/mrs-beetons-household-management

0237 Confucian Temple, Beijing, PRC by Mark – Back after a long absence

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The Emperor's reading room at Biyong Palace. Biyong Palace is of the traditional Chinese full timber structure. It is rigidly constructed in accordance with the ancient imperial regulations with nine separate rooms as a house built in a linear style. Inside you will find the most expensive quadrels beneath and magnificently painted ceilings above and no pillars in the center, only beams in the four corners. Spacious and luxurious, it is skillfully and ingeniously constructed. Right in the center stands the Imperial Throne, desk and folding screens specially laid out for the Emperor to deliver his speech. It was recorded when Emperor Qin Long (Emperor of Qing Dynasty) came to make his first speech in 1785 in the Biyong Palace, more than 3088 people attended his lecture, kneeling all over both the middle and the south yard to the Stone Bridge.

The Temple of Confucius at Beijing is the second largest Confucian Temple in China, after the one in Confucius' hometown of Qufu. The temple was built in 1302, and officials used it to pay their respects to Confucius until 1911. The compound was enlarged twice, during the Ming and Qing dynasties and now occupies some 20,000 square meters. It stands on Guozijian Street near the Imperial Academy.

en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Beijing_Temple_of_Confucius

Genroku Style - Tea Ceremony 1905 by Blue Ruin 1

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Two geiko (geisha) from Osaka dressed in the Genroku style, performing a Tea Ceremony. Geiko Chiyo wearing black.

MORGANA - PINK 8387 by Cortez77_fr same nickname on Ipernity

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Abandon.

Morgana F.

Make-up artist, hair and light assistant : Miu

designs for stained-glass folding screens by Leon Ruwette

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Galerie Mariska Dirkx, Roermond

Remnant from the studio of glazier's Joep Nicolas

AFTERs by Nata Luna Sans

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the map is from a pad of scrapbook paper and deliberately south-up. the cats are from all over, mostly vintage.

Genroku Style - Shamisen Player 1905 by Blue Ruin 1

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Geiko (geisha) Tondaya Yachiyo of Osaka dressed in the Genroku style, tuning her shamisen, seated next to an oil lamp and folding screen. This type of oil lamp is called a tankei andon (短檠行灯).

Long lasting Summer by Joana

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There is a saying in Portuguese that goes something like "Christmas happens when Mankind wants" (O Natal é quando o Homem quer). And Summer is pretty much like Christmas ;) The days are shorter but still warm and the breeze outside makes it even more pleasant to enjoy the grass and the shadows cast by trees :)

Go See enjoys this lovely weather in her Dolly Dolls swimsuit, on her Las Cosicas de Nuria chair, in her 1997 Mattel head band and behind her Miniaturas do Tocas folding screen, for extra privacy ;)

A Weekend of fun, in Return for a Pair of Beach Pyjamas by raaen99

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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.

Today, Lettice is entertaining the world famous British concert pianist, Sylvia Fordyce in her well appointed her Cavendish Mews drawing room. Lettice met Sylvia 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 philandering and not so discreet 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 by architect Sydney Castle***: 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 the drawing room of her country retreat 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. Delighted with the outcome of her new feature wall, Sylvia has come to Cavendish Mews today to pay the remainder of her bill in full, a result not always so easily come by, by some of Lettice’s previous wealthy clients.

Just as Edith, Lettice’s maid, is arranging one of her light and fluffy sponge onto a white gilt edged plate in the kitchen to serve to Lettice and her guest, she hears the mechanical buzz of the Cavendish Mews servant’s call bell. Glancing up she notices the circle for the front door has changed from black to red, indicating that it is the front door bell that has rung.

“Oh blast.” she mutters. “Just as I’m about to serve cake too.”

Quickly whipping off the stained apron she is wearing which has splashes of cream and strawberry juice from decorating the cake, she hurries from the kitchen into the public area of the flat via a door in the scullery adjoining the kitchen, snatching up a clean apron from a hook by the door as she goes. Quickly fastening the freshly laundered apron over her blue and white striped calico print morning uniform as she walks into the entrance hall.

The front door buzzer goes again, sounding noisily, filling the atmosphere with a jarring echo.

“Edith?” Lettice’s voice calls from the drawing room where she is sitting with Sylvia.

“On my way, Miss!” Edith assures her mistress in a harried tone as she hurries across the think Chinese silk carpet to the front door. “I’m coming, alright. I’m coming.” mutters Edith irritably to herself as she makes her way toward the front door with rushed footsteps. “Keep your hair on****.”

She pats her cap and the hairpins holding her blonde waves neatly in place as she goes, hoping that she looks presentable as she opens the front door.

“It’s only little me, dear Lettice.” Gerald simpers as he walks into the drawing room where Lettice sits in her usual black japanned, rounded back, while upholstered tup armchair next to the telephone, whilst Sylvia Fordyce lounges languidly in the one opposite.

“Oh Gerald! What a lovely surprise!” Lettice says, standing up, the lilt in her voice cheerful, but the look in her sparkling blue eyes murderous as she glances at Gerald. “I… I thought I told you I was entertaining Miss Fordyce is afternoon.”

“Oh, you may well have,” he answers, lightly tapping the side of his head beneath the brim of his straw boater absently. “But silly me, it must have completely slipped my mind. I’m so sorry!” His words are apologetic, and his behaviour contrite, but there is a mischievous hazel tinted glint in his own dark brown eyes, and a cheeky curl upturning the corner of his mouth as she speaks that betrays his true thoughts. “It’s only a fleeting visit. I merely came by to drop off a little something for you.” He holds out a small parcel wrapped in brown paper and tied with twine towards Lettice.

For the moment, Gerald politely ignores Sylvia’s dark sloe eyed stare as she remains draped languidly in her armchair, her long fingers steepled in front of her chest. He can feel her silently appraising his well-cut navy blue blazer with glinting gold buttons, his pressed white trousers with a crisp crease down the middle at both the front and back, his natty yet at the same time slightly foppish blue and white striped tie with a matching pocket square*****, his bold red carnation boutonnière****** and his stylish straw boater.

“Oh Gerald! Lettice says, accepting the gift. “You shouldn’t have.”

“Oh,” Gerald retorts, waving his hand dismissively. “It’s nothing really, just a new scarf in silk I had printed with one of my designs in Lyon. I had a few made up, but I wanted you to the be first to have one, of course. They are very much your colours, my dear Lettice.”

“Ahh!” exclaims Sylvia, suddenly breaking her languid pose and leaning forward in her seat, looking up at Gerald with great interest as her red painted mouth hangs open in anticipation, her tongue pressed to the base of her mouth behind her slightly discoloured teeth. “So, this is the wunderkind******* Gerald Bruton, of whom I have read so much about in The Lady******** as he takes the London fashion scene by storm.”

“Oh! Where are my matters!” Lettice remarks, quickly putting Gerald’s unopened parcel aside. “Sylvia darling, may I introduce Mr. Gerald Bruton, Grosvenor Street couturier, and my oldest, dearest and sometimes,” She pauses for effect. “My most frustrating chum from childhood. Gerald darling, may I introduce Miss Sylvia Fordyce, the world famous British concert pianist.”

“And you latest client… and hopefully new friend.” Sylvia adds with a smile.

It is only then that Gerald allows himself to truly take his attention away from Lettice and focus upon her guest. Wearing an over-sized chocolate brown velvet cloche, Sylvia’s black dyed sharp bob pokes out from beneath it, framing her striking, angular face which is caked with a thick layer of white makeup. Her lips are painted a bright red, which appears even more garish against the white of her face paint, just as the darkness of her glittering eyes are intensified by her white, almost ethereal, pallor. She wears no necklace, nor any earrings that Gerald can discern beneath the bottom of her cloche. In fact, her only piece of jewellery is a large aquamarine and diamond cluster ring on the left middle finger on her elegant pianist’s right hand. However, being the only piece of ornamentation she wears, it makes the ring, already a striking piece in its own right, even more so as it sparkles and winks beneath the electric light of Lettice’s chandelier overhead. Her outfit is simple and stripped back: a white satin blouse accessorised with a black and white cheque silk scarf tied in a loose and artistic style, and a long column like skirt in black, beneath the hem of which poke the pointed toes of a pair of high heeled black patent leather boots. Far from being conventionally beautiful, the pianist has captured the power of dressing to make her presence unignorable, and she wears her cultivated look with unabashed pride.

“Miss Fordyce needs no introduction.” Gerald enthuses as he bends down and raises Sylvia’s elegant hand, kissing it gently just above the sparkling cluster ring. “Enchanté.” he breathes in French.

“Charmante,” Sylvia replies with an enigmatic smile, bowing her head slightly as she slowly withdraws her hand from Gerald’s, enjoying the attention her is lavishing upon her. “I could say the same about you, Mr. Bruton, for Lettice speaks of you fondly, and often. I believe that it is you I have to thank for our clever Lettice finishing my feature wall. She has just been telling me that when her inspiration or energy was flagging whilst she was painting it, you spurned her on to complete it. I’m most grateful.”

“I did my best, Miss Fordyce.” Gerald replies, his cheeks flushing red at Sylvia’s compliment. “Lettice is,” He turns his head away from Sylvia and focuses upon his best friend. “A remarkable artist, and highly skilled.”

“Oh Gerald!” Lettice gasps.

“It sounds like you are also her biggest champion, my dear Mr. Bruton.” Sylvia opines.

“But,” Gerald goes on. “She doesn’t have the faith in her own abilities that she should.” He returns his attentions to Sylvia. “I’m sure you agree, Miss Fordyce.”

“Indeed I do, Mr. Bruton. Your friend is highly accomplished, and I was just telling our clever Lettice how delighted I am with my new feature wall.”

“I think it is very beautiful too, Miss Fordyce. You are most fortunate.” Gerald replies.

Without saying anything, Lettice gently puts her hand on Gerald’s forearm.

“Well!” Gerald says, clearing his throat a little awkwardly, taking Lettice’s silent hint in his stride. “I did say that this was only a fleeting visit. I really should be off.” He looks at Lettice with a meaningful look. “I’ve been here enough times to show myself out, whilst you entertain your guest. I do hope you like the scarf.”

“Oh really?” Sylvia interjects rising elegantly from her seat, the fabric of her outfit draping down over her slender frame like shivering water. “Must you go?” She turns her head to Lettice. “Must he go, Lettice darling? Your maid was fetching us cake wasn’t she? Surely there is enough for three?” She turns back to Gerald. “Please, Mr. Bruton. I’d so love you to stay! Darling Lettice and I have finished up the tedious part of my visit, settling my account, and we were just prattling away idly, weren’t we Lettice darling? Besides, I would value your opinion, since you are an arbiter of fashion, Mr. Bruton. Please?” She pouts her scarlet painted lips, which even in a plumped up form still have a slender look about them. “Please!”

“Well I…” Gerald looks between Sylvia and Lettice. “I suppose I could tarry for a short while. I don’t have to be at my next appointment just yet, and I do so love Edith’s sponges, which she has told me she has made for you, Miss Fordyce.”

“Oh Gerald!” Lettice laughs. “Please drop the pretence and save yourself the embarrassment. Bring that chair over and join us.” She indicates with a sweeping gesture to the black japanned Chippendale chair, upholstered in silver and blue Art Deco fabric, which whilst unorthodox with such clashing styles , works under Lettice’s clever eye for design. “I’ll tell Edith we’re a trio now.” She steps over and depresses the servants’ call button by the fireplace, the buzzer echoing in the service area of the flat.

“Thank you, Lettice.” Gerald says gratefully as he takes off his straw boater and places it on one of Lettice’s black japanned side tables before drawing up the chair she has indicated to the coffee table and takes a seat.

“Did Cyril put you up to this?” Lettice asks him, mentioning Gerald’s young, fey and more overtly homosexual lover who lives in a boarding house for theatrical types in Putney with Gerald’s friend Harriet Milford, who designs hats in addition to running her rather dramatic boarding house. “Turning up on my doorstep, knowing that Miss Fordyce would be here?”

“Well...” Gerald says, blushing red as he speaks.

“I knew you hadn’t forgotten that I told you Miss Fordyce was visiting today!” Lettice wags a finger at Gerald. “It isn’t like you to forget a date, even if it isn’t one of your own.”

“Who is Cyril, Mr. Bruton?” Sylvia asks, intrigued as she resumes her languid stance in her tub chair again.

“Cyril is my… my friend, Miss Fordyce.” Gerald pipes up quickly. “He’s… he’s an oboist who plays in the West End theatres, and like me,” He bushes even deeper. “He is a very big fan of yours, Miss Fordyce.”

“A friend.” Sylvia muses, looking Gerald up and down knowingly, but keeping her impressions to herself behind her heavily painted face, only smiling politely in acknowledgement of Gerald.

“When I told him that I was going with Lettice to stay at your very lovely little country retreat in Essex, he was more than a little jealous.”

“Was he indeed?” Sylvia chuckles indulgently.

Just at that moment, Edith walks into the drawing room.

“You rang, Miss?” Edith says, bobbing a polite curtsey.

“Yes Edith.” Lettice replies. “Mr. Bruton is staying now, so it will be tea for three now, if you can manage it.”

“Of course Miss.” Edith replies. “May I take your hat, Mr. Bruton.”

“Thank you Edith.” he says, passing her his straw boater. “I do like your delicious sponge cake, Edith.” Gerald compliments the young girl.

“Thank you, Sir.” Edith replies, blushing as she basks momentarily in Gerald’s compliment before bobbing another quick curtsey to the assembled company and retreating back into the dining room and through the green baize door, back into the service area of the flat.

“Even if my figure suffers for it.” Gerald adds, turning his attentions back to Sylvia.

“Such high praise for your cook, Lettice darling.” Sylvia says with her expertly plucked black eyebrows arching high over her eyes. “I am in for a treat!”

“Edith is an excellent cook when it comes to cakes, Sylvia darling, so I asked her to bake her speciality today, a cream filled strawberry sponge cake.”

“Goodness!” Sylvia gasps. “No wonder your figure suffers, Mr. Bruton, at the sound of such extravagance. I myself,” She raises a hand to her throat. “Do not suffer the same problem. As a performer, I have far too much frenetic energy to burn.”

“And you do it with such theatricality,” Gerald enthuses.

“Why thank you, Mr. Bruton.” Sylvia says, smiling indulgently as she does. “Such a lovely compliment.”

“Oh Gerald!” Lettice giggles. “I do believe you are quite smitten with Sylvia.”

“Don’t be cheeky…” Gerald goes to call Lettice by her most hated childhood pet name, ‘Lettuce Leaf’, but being the presence of the pianist he so admires, and wanting to maintain a good impression, he swallows awkwardly and finishes a little lamely, “Lettice.”

Sylvia laughs heartily. “You two do know each other well, don’t you, Lettice darling? You have a way between you that seems very comfortable. Have you known Mr. Bruton all your life?”

“Yes.” Lettice replies.

“I’m just a little older than Lettice, and we grew up on neighbouring estates in Wiltshire,” Gerald goes on. “And all of Lettice’s siblings, with the exception of her beast of a brother Lionel, are much older that we are, and my own brother Roland is a few years my senior and never had time for me.”

“So we just ended up playing together, didn’t we Gerald?”

“We did, Lettice.”

“And so, we became the best of chums and have stayed as such ever since.”

“How utterly delightful!” Sylvia opines with a clap of her hands. “But please, do go on about your friend, Cyril, Mr. Bruton. I love the West End theatre scene, and attend whenever my schedule allows. We theatrical types must support one another and stick together. Perhaps I’ve seen, or rather heard, your young oboist friend in a show?”

“Well, Cyril was performing in Julian Wylie’s********* revue, ‘Better Days’********** at the Hippodrome***********, but it’s just finished, so he is between engagements at the moment.”

“I see.” Sylvia replies, nodding and staring deeply into Gerald’s eyes.

“You… err, you wanted to ask me something about fashion, I believe, Miss Fordyce?” Gerald asks, feeling uncomfortable under Sylvia’s inscrutable stare.

“I did, Mr. Bruton!” Sylvia replies animatedly, releasing Gerald from her scrutiny. “Thank you for reminding me. Being the arbiter and setter of current London fashion trends that you are…”

“Oh, I don’t know if I’d go quite that far, Miss Fordyce.” Gerald chuckles, blushing yet again.

“Nonsense! Mr. Bruton!” Sylvia scoffs. “False modesty doesn’t suit you any more than it does darling Lettice, and,” She wags her index finger admonishingly at him, the cluster of diamonds and aquamarines on the finger next to it glinting and gleaming in the light. “It’s no good for business. Did you not design this divine frock for Lettice?”

Gerald turns to face Lettice, although he has no need to, as he recognised the rose and marone silk georgette knife pleated frock, the same one she wore when she first arrived at ‘The Nest’ with Sylvia when she went to look at the wall her hostess wanted redecorated, as being one of his own designs for Lettice the moment he laid eyes on her upon walking into the drawing room. “Indeed it is, Miss Fordyce.”

“Then I stand by what I say, Mr. Bruton. You have an eye for colour and cut, style and panache, and you create things that flatter your customers.”

“Well, Lettice is a special case, Miss Fordyce. As you’ve heard, she is my best friend, and she has always been so supportive of my frock making, ever since I first began. She’s something of a muse to me.”

“Muse or not, if you couldn’t design frocks, had no style or awareness of colour, poor Lettice might be wearing something that makes her look perfectly hideous at the moment. Although,” She turns and ponders over Lettice sitting comfortably in her armchair. “I do think that would be very hard to do, since she is so lithe and lovely.”

“We concur in that opinion, Miss Fordyce.” Gerald agrees.

“However, I stand by what I said before, you are an arbiter of fashion, and your creations are influencing what London women are wearing. So, I wanted to ask you, what is your opinion on,” She stands up suddenly, and spreads her legs slightly, the movement causing the black fabric of what Gerald had thought was a dress to reveal itself as being a pair of roomy Oxford bags************. “Women wearing trousers?”

Lettice immediately sees this as being a test for Gerald, as to whether Sylvia, who doesn’t suffer fools or people who don’t tend to share her opinion, will want to invite him to join her exclusive coterie of friends, as she has Lettice. Lettice sits forward slightly in her seat, causing an almost imperceptible widening of her guest’s eyes opposite her, the change, and slight flash in her eyes as she stares at Gerald causing Lettice to sit back in her seat.

Without batting an eyelid, Gerald replies firmly. “I always admired Paul Poiret************* for introducing wide legged trousers for women in 1910. I thought it a pity that they only caught on amongst the most avant-garde and daring of his clients.”

Lettice releases the pent-up breath she has silently been holding, sighing with relief, knowing by the subtle curl in Sylvia’s red streak of a mouth that she is pleased with Gerald’s response.

“And when do you think it will be commonplace to see trousers for women in London shops, Mr. Bruton?” Sylvia goes on, placing her hands in a stance of defiance on her hips. “Currently I have to travel to Berlin to get mine.” She kicks up her right heel a little, making her slacks billow for a moment before falling back down elegantly against her legs.

“Ahh, that is a very good question, Miss Fordyce.” Gerald replies. “If I had my way, they would be readily available for all women to wear. However…”

“However?” Sylvia asks.

“However, the English are conservative by nature, Miss Fordyce, and women wearing trousers would be too shocking for their taste, at least currently. London is not Paris, or Berlin, madam.”

At that moment, the conversation is broken by the sound of china rattling against silver, as Edith pushes open the green baize door leading from the scullery to the dining room carrying a large silver tray laden with Lettice’s best Art Deco Royal Doulton ‘Falling Leaves’ tea set, cups, saucers and plates to match, and one of her beautiful strawberry sponge cakes. The trio watch, transfixed as she slowly walks across the dining room and into the drawing room carrying the tray, which looks far to heavy for a girl as dainty as Edith. They observe in silence as she lowers the tray onto the low, black japanned coffee table, before rising and bobbing a curtsy to her mistress.

“Will there be anything else, Miss?” Edith asks, aware of the attention and curiosity she has created with her presence, but determined not to let it impact her polite and calm manner.

“No, thank you, Edith.” Lettice replies politely. “However, I’ll be sure to call if we need anything else.”

“Very good, Miss.” She bobs another curtsey and quickly retreats back to the kitchen.

“Yes,” Sylvia says quietly with a sigh as she watches Edith’s retreating figure disappear back through the green baize door. “The idea of women wearing trousers does seem to be too unpalatable for so much of the British population. Take your maid, for example, Lettice darling. Both times I have visited you here at Cavendish Mews, she cannot help but look aghast at my outlandish roomy trousers, her horror as plain as the nose on her face!”

“Oh Sylvia, darling!” Lettice protests, as she begins to unpack the tray and set up the teacups onto saucers. “That isn’t fair to poor Edith!”

“Whyever not, Lettice darling?” Sylvia retorts. “Surely it would be more practical for her to do her job, were she to wear trousers than some calico frock like she is wearing now. She should find the idea of me wearing trousers exciting, not abhorrent!”

“That may well be, Miss Fordyce, but she’ll never wear them.” Gerald replies.

“How ridiculous! I ask again, whyever not?” Sylvia asks again, throwing her hands up in the air in exasperation.

“Because Edith is what is known as a good girl.” Lettice elucidates. “She was brought up by her parents: a factory worker and a laundress I believe, to have moral scruples.”

“Moral scruples!” Sylvia scoffs dismissively.

“Where she comes from, Sylvia darling, women are servants, wives or mothers. They don’t rune businesses. They aren’t concert pianists. And they certainly don’t wear trousers.”

“She’ll never wear them, Miss Fordyce,” Gerald agrees. “Never!”

“And you, Mr. Bruton?” Sylvia asks with a cunning smile.

“Me, Miss Fordyce?”

“Would you be willing to make trousers for women, even if it would shock some parts of London society?”

“Well, as a matter-of-fact, Miss Fordyce,” Gerald says with a conspiratorial smile and a twinkle in his eyes. “I happen to be in the process of designing a range of beach pyjamas************* at the moment.”

“Beach pyjamas?” Sylvia asks, licking her lips with excitement. “What are they?”

“Well, rather like the name suggests, it’s a pair of wide-legged trousers with a matching blouse, made from colourful, brightly patterned cotton fabrics, similar to what you might wear to bed.”

“I don’t wear anything to bed, Mr. Bruton.” Sylvia replies with a throaty chuckle.

“Sylvia!” Lettice admonishes her guest as Gerald blushes red.

“Please pardon my lack of moral scruples, Mr. Bruton.” Sylvia says teasingly. “Perhaps I should take a leaf from your maid, Lettice darling.” She then continues, “Do go on about your beach pyjamas, Mr. Bruton! They sound positively delicious!” Sylvia murmurs.

“They are all the rage in Deauville.” Gerald goes on.

“Deauville is hardly Bournemouth, Brighton or Lyme Regis.” Lettice counters as she removes Edith’s cake from the tray.

“I just need an exponent of them who would be brave enough and willing to wear them.” Gerald defends.

“Maybe.” Lettice mutters doubtfully.

“Could they be made of silk or satin, Mr. Bruton?” Sylvia asks, sitting up, her eyes twinkling darkly.

“Of course, Miss Fordyce. In fact, they lend themselves to being made of something so deliciously extravagant.”

“Surely you aren’t suggesting you’d be Gerald’s proponent and wear beach pyjamas, Sylvia darling?” Lettice asks.

“Well why not, Lettice darling?” Sylvia counters her friend. “You know me well enough by now to know I don’t give a fig what people think! I am my own woman.” She pats her chest proudly. “Besides,” she adds with a throaty chuckle. “I’d enjoy nothing more than shocking those ghastly prudish Edwardian matrons sitting in their deckchairs along the pier at Bognor Regis*************** as I parade before them in a pair of Mr. Bruton’s beach pyjamas!” She pauses. “Made of satin, of course!”

“Of course, Miss Fordyce.” Gerald agrees, quickly getting swept up in the promise of the idea.

“Excellent!” Sylvia laughs. “What jolly fun!”

“Rather!” Gerald agrees, growing excited at the thought. “Jolly good show, Miss Fordyce!”

“Do you know what, Mr. Bruton?” Sylvia asks, as she accepts a cup of freshly poured tea from her hostess. “I’ve just had the most marvellous idea! I was saying to Lettice here, just before you arrived, how I was thinking of throwing a small soirée at ‘The Nest’ with a few like-minded friends: musicians, artists and the like,” She gesticulates about her as if demonstrating who the people’s professions might be. “To celebrate the completion of my fabulous Lettice Chetwynd original feature wall, and for me to be able to show it off to a few of my dearest friends.”

“That sounds splendid, Miss Fordyce.” Gerald says.

“Well I was just thinking, why don’t you join us? Lettice will have a familiar face beyond mine and Nettie’s to look at.”

“Nettie?” Gerald queries.

“It’s John’s pet name given him by Clemance and a select group of close friends.” Lettice pipes up as she hands Gerald his teacup. “But please don’t you call him that, Gerald darling!” she implores. “I don’t think I could take it seriously, coming from you.”

“Have no fear, Lettice darling!” Gerald chuckles. “I don’t think I could come at calling Sir John that, even if you wanted me too.” He screws up his nose in a mixture of perplexity and distaste. “Nettie…. Nettie.” He shakes his head.

“You could bring your… friend,” Sylvia goes on, her eyebrows arching over her eyes before she gives Gerald a cheeky and conspiratorial wink. “Cyril. Playing the oboe, he’s a musician after all, so he’d be in good company, and you did say just before that he was a trifle jealous of you getting to visit ‘The Nest’ without him.”

“That really is most generous of you, Miss Fordyce!” Gerald exclaims.

“Oh, my offer doesn’t come for free.” Sylvia’s dark eyes widen and sparkle in the light of the room. “There are strings attached to my invitation. I’m an artist, Mr. Bruton. I can’t afford to be that altruistic. No. I’d do you a trade. You and Cyril may come for a weekend at ‘The Nest’ and enjoy my company, and my largess, in return for a pair of your delicious sounding beach pyjamas, in satin! Deal?” she holds out her right hand, rather like an American businessman.

Gerald feels awkward as he mimics Sylvia, but he reaches out and shakes her hand. “Deal.”

*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.

**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.

***Sydney Ernest Castle was born in Battersea in July 1883. He trained with H. W. Edwards, a surveyor and worked as chief assistant to Arthur Jessop Hardwick (1867 - 1948) before establishing his own practice in London in 1908. From 1908 to 1918 he was in partnership with Gerald Warren (1881-1936) as Castle & Warren. He worked on St. George's Hill Estate in Weybridge, Surrey with Walter George Tarrant (1875-1942). Castle was elected a Fellow of the Royal Institute of British Architects (FRIBA) in 1925. He designed many buildings, including the Christian Association building in Clapham, a school in Balham and a private hotel in the Old Brompton Road, as well as many private residences throughout Britain. His firm’s address in 1926, when this story is set was 40, Albemarle Street, Piccadilly. He died in Wandsworth in March 1955.

****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.

****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.

*****A pocket square is a decorative square of fabric, typically silk or linen, that is displayed in the breast pocket of a jacket or suit. It serves as a fashion accessory to add a touch of style and visual interest to an outfit. Pocket squares can be folded in various ways, and the fabric is often chosen to complement or contrast with the rest of the attire. The exact origins of the pocket square are open to debate, but many believe they began in Ancient Egypt and Greece. These white fabric squares originally served practical purposes, such as maintaining cleanliness or deterring smells. Men would store them out of sight, only pulling them out when needed. Over time, pocket squares became a fashion statement and status symbol. Wealthy men would purchase brightly coloured fabrics, especially in bold red hues, to stand out from the crowd. They also often had infused scents to block unwanted smells. Throughout the Eighteenth Century, the popularity of pocket squares spread across Europe, even making their way into royal outfits. Pocket squares remained popular throughout the Eighteenth Century, but they truly evolved into the modern accessory we know today in the Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries.

******A boutonnière is a floral decoration, typically a single flower or bud, worn on the lapel of a tuxedo or suit jacket. While worn frequently in the past to distinguish a gentleman from a common labourer, boutonnières are now usually reserved for special occasions for which formal wear is standard, such as at balls and weddings.

*******The term "wunderkind," meaning a child prodigy or someone who achieves exceptional success at a young age, was invented in the late Nineteenth Century. Specifically, the first documented use in English dates back to 1891, with the term being borrowed from German, where it had been in use earlier.

********The Lady was a British women's magazine. It published its first issue on 19 February 1885 and was in continuous publication until its last issue in April 2025, at which time it was the longest-running women's magazine in Britain. Based in London, it was particularly notable for its classified advertisements for domestic service and child care; it also has extensive listings of holiday properties. It still has an online presence which offers a classified advertisements, jobs board and recruitment service.

*********Julian Wylie (1878 – 1934), originally Julian Ulrich Samuelson Metzenberg, was a British theatrical agent and producer. He began as an accountant and took an interest in entertainment through his brothers, Lauri Wylie and G. B. Samuelson. About 1910, he became the business manager and agent of David Devant, an illusionist, then took on other clients, and formed a partnership with James W. Tate. By the end of his life, he was known as the 'King of Pantomime'.

**********Julian Wylie’s last revue at the London Hippodrome was ‘Better Days’ in 1925. Comprising 19 scenes, Better Days had a try-out at the Liverpool Empire from 9th March 1925 before its debut at the London Hippodrome on 19th March 1925. The stars of the first edition of Better Days were Maisie Gay, Stanley Lupino, Madge Elliott, Connie Emerald with Ruth French and Anatole Wiltzak. The production had the usual Wylie flourish and touch with the dances and ensembles arranged by Edward Dolly and all the gowns and costumes designed by Dolly Tree. The modern gowns were created by Peron and Florence Henry and the costumes by Alias, Clarkson and Betty S. Roberts. ‘Better Days’, only ran for 135 performances and closed in early June, proving to be the last of Wylie’s run of productions at the London Hippodrome.

***********The Hippodrome is a building on the corner of Cranbourn Street and Charing Cross Road in the City of Westminster, London. The name was used for many different theatres and music halls, of which the London Hippodrome is one of only a few survivors. Hippodrome is an archaic word referring to places that host horse races and other forms of equestrian entertainment. The London Hippodrome was opened in 1900. It was designed by Frank Matcham for Moss Empires chaired by Edward Moss and built for £250,000.00 as a hippodrome for circus and variety performances. The venue gave its first show on 15 January 1900, a music hall revue entitled "Giddy Ostend" with Little Tich. The conductor was Georges Jacobi. In 1909, it was reconstructed by Matcham as a music-hall and variety theatre with 1340 seats in stalls, mezzanine, gallery and upper gallery levels. It was here that in 1910 Tchaikovsky's ‘Swan Lake’ received its English première in the form of Act 2 with Olga Preobajinska as the Swan Queen. The Hippodrome hosted the first official jazz gig in the United Kingdom, by the Original Dixieland Jazz Band, in 1919.

************Oxford bags were a loose-fitting baggy form of trousers favoured by members of the University of Oxford, especially undergraduates, in England from the mid-1920s to around the 1950s. The style had a more general influence outside the university, including in America, but has been somewhat out of fashion since then. It is sometimes said that the style originated from a ban in 1924 on the wearing of plus fours by Oxford (and Cambridge) undergraduates at lectures. The bagginess allegedly allowed plus fours to be hidden underneath – but the argument is undermined by the fact that the trousers (especially in the early years) were not sufficiently voluminous for this to be done with any success. The original trousers were 22–23 inches (56–58 cm) in circumference at the bottoms but became increasingly larger to 44 inches (110 cm) or more, possibly due to a misunderstanding of the measurement as the width rather than circumference.

*************Paul Poiret was a French fashion designer, a master couturier during the first two decades of the 20th century. He was the founder of his namesake haute couture house. Poiret established his own house in 1903. In his first years as an independent couturier, he broke with established conventions of dressmaking and subverted other ones. In 1903, he dismissed the petticoat, and later, in 1906, he did the same with the corset. Poiret made his name with his controversial kimono coat and similar, loose-fitting designs created specifically for an uncorseted, slim figure. Poiret designed flamboyant window displays and threw sensational parties to draw attention to his work. His instinct for marketing and branding was unmatched by any other Parisian designer, although the pioneering fashion shows of the British-based Lucile (Lady Lucy Duff Gordon) had already attracted tremendous publicity. In 1909, he was so famous, Margot Asquith, wife of British prime minister H. H. Asquith, invited him to show his designs at 10 Downing Street. The cheapest garment at the exhibition was thirty guineas, double the annual salary of a scullery maid. Jeanne Margaine-Lacroix presented wide-legged trousers for women in 1910, some months before Poiret, who took credit for being the first to introduce the style.

*************Beach pyjamas, which generally consisted of a pair of wide-legged trousers and a jacket of matching fabric, first gained popularity in the years immediately following the Great War, with evidence pointing to the early 1920s, specifically at European seaside resorts like Deauville in France. It is thought that French fashion designer, Coco Chanel, was also an early proponent of this style.

**************Deauville is a seaside resort on the Côte Fleurie of France’s Normandy region. An upper-class holiday destination since the 1800s, it’s known for its grand casino, golf courses, horse races and American Film Festival. Its wide, sandy beach is backed by Les Planches, a 1920s boardwalk with bathing cabins. The town has chic boutiques, elegant belle epoque villas and half-timbered buildings. As the closest seaside resort to Paris, Deauville is one of the most notable seaside resorts in France. The city and its region of the Côte Fleurie (Flowery Coast) have long been home to the French upper class's seaside houses and is often referred to as the Parisian Riviera.

***************Bognor Regis, also known as Bognor, is a town and seaside resort in West Sussex on the south coast of England, fifty-six miles south-west of London, twenty-four miles west of Brighton, six miles south-east of Chichester and sixteen miles east of Portsmouth. A seaside resort was developed by Sir Richard Hotham in the late Eighteenth Century on what was a sand and gravel, undeveloped coastline. It has been claimed that Hotham and his new resort are portrayed in Jane Austen's unfinished novel ‘Sanditon’. The resort grew slowly in the first half of the Nineteenth Century but grew rapidly following the coming of the railway in 1864.

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 including items from my own childhood.

Fun things to look for in this tableaux include:

Lettice’s tea set sitting on the coffee table is a beautiful artisan set featuring a rather avant-garde Art Deco Royal Doulton design from the Edwardian era. The very realistic looking chocolate sponge cake topped with creamy icing and strawberries has been made from polymer clay and was made by Karen Ladybug Miniatures in the United Kingdom. The green tinged bowl behind the tea set is made of glass and has been made by hand by Beautifully Handmade Miniatures in Kettering. Made by the Little Green Workshop who specialise in high-end artisan miniatures, the black leather diary with the silver clasp is actually bound and has pages inside. The silver pen with the pearl end is also from the Little Green Workshop.

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 chord does stretch out. The vase of yellow tiger lilies and daisies on the Art Deco occasional table is beautifully made by hand by the Doll House Emporium. The vase of roses and lilies in the tall white vase on the table to the right of the photo was also made by hand, by Falcon Miniatures who are renowned for their realistic 1:12 size miniatures.

Lettice’s drawing room is furnished with beautiful J.B.M. miniatures. The black japanned wooden chair is a Chippendale design and has been upholstered with modern and stylish Art Deco fabric. The mirror backed back japanned china cabinet is Chippendale too. On its glass shelves sit pieces of miniature Limoges porcelain including jugs, teacups and saucers, many of which I have had since I was a child.

To the left of the Chippendale chair stands a blanc de chine Chinese porcelain vase, and next to it, a Chinese screen. The Chinese folding screen I bought at an antiques and junk market when I was about ten. I was with my grandparents and a friend of the family and their three children, who were around my age. They all bought toys to bring home and play with, and I bought a Chinese folding screen to add to my miniatures collection in my curio cabinet at home! It shows you what a unique child I was.

The painting in the gilt frame is made by Amber’s Miniatures in America. The carpet beneath the furniture is a copy of a popular 1920s style Chinese silk rug. 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.

"Garden Gate" - folding screen by Kara D. Julian

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I built this folding screen for an entry piece in an art exibitiion (The McCoy Prize) here in Grand Cayman. I made it from 3 sections of plywood (using my jigsaw to cut the scalloped edges at the top). I used the Trompe L'oeil method (3-D painting technique used in realistic paintings to trick the eye, especially through the use of perspective to create an illusion of three-dimensionality), to give it the look of a picket fence.

Geisha Teruha holding a Senchawan 1918 by Blue Ruin 1

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Teruha holding a tray with a Chawan (tea bowl) balanced on it. However this looks to be a Senchawan or small porcelain cup used for fine-quality steeped green tea rather than one used for a Tea Ceremony.

Modern fabric: Bold peacock feather screen + blue duck egg upholstery by SarahKaron

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Screen is Peacock Feather multi-linen; Antelope chair and foreground cushion are Giorgio duck egg; background cushion is Fermoy, all by Zoffany.

Photo from zoffany.com.

The beautiful girl and Japanese furnishings. by Human Beat Town

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Le paravent rouge: Robe du soir, de Worth from Gazette du Bon Ton. Art – Modes & Frivolités: Famous Fashion Houses No. 10 Pl. 80 (1921) fashion illustration in high resolution by George Barbier. Original from The Rijksmuseum. Digitally enhanced by r by Free Public Domain Illustrations by rawpixel

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Free download under CC Attribution (CC BY 4.0). Please credit the artist and rawpixel.com.

George Barbier (1882–1932) became one of the most renowned French Art Deco illustrators after his exhibition of ninety costume drawings at the Galerie Boutet de Monval in Paris. Being a distinguished artist of the Art Deco movement, he created fashion designs for several leading couturiers and fashion houses during the time. Barbier was widely acclaimed for the design of costumes, jewelry, wallpaper, and glasswork. His creations were published in famous magazines including Gazette du Bon Ton, La Vie Parisienne, and Vogue. We have digitally enhanced his magnificent fashion plates from the gilded jazz age of 1920s for you to download for free and use under the CC0 license.

Higher resolutions with no attribution required can be downloaded: https://www.rawpixel.com/board/1314286/george-barbier-1920s-fashion-costume-designs-public-domain-illustrations

AFTERs by Nata Luna Sans

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the map is from a pad of scrapbook paper and deliberately south-up. the cats are from all over, mostly vintage.

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