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Last Autumn, fresh from his latest coiffure still carrying a light sheen and scent of pomade, the salon signature parfum 'La Jolie Labradoodle', Hugo wanted to pose for his portrait. He suggested waiting half an hour or so that the golden hour might fully set in so as the better to pick out the shine on his coat and the autumn leaves surrounding him. Autumn evening harmony with a colourful air, was the efect he was after. When the time was up - like a well trained chap - I returned with said camera.....
In our garden.
The thick roiling fog of another pea-souper began to permeate the narrow streets of Soho, permeating the bricks of old buildings and softening the rumble of late night London traffic on the Strand and the footfalls of pedestrians. Down a rather dark and seedy laneway, a lone female figure arrayed all in white stood out amidst the gloom, and the sharp click of her heels against the wet cobbles beneath her feet cut through the fog like a knife. Her movements seemed so languorous, you could almost believe from her sashaying hips that she had nowhere in particular to be, but it was all the artifice of a successful silent film star, as her footsteps were alive with energy and purpose as she neared her assignation.
She rapped hard on the metal door whose surface was smoothed with the touch of many hands before hers: first three hard, heavy knocks, and then three faster and lighter ones. The peephole in the door slid back with a sharp rasp, revealing a pair of red eyes with a hard gaze, in spite of their rheuminess. Beyond the bouncer, the jovial sounds of a party atmosphere drifted through the peep hole: voluble chatter interspersed with bursts of laughter, the clink of glass on glass, the pop of a champagne cork and the delicious sound of the latest frenetic jazz music from New York and New Orleans.
“I vant to enter zee club.” the silent film starlet said in the rolling, laconic syllables of a German born citizen speaking English.
The bouncer looked her up and down with an appraising look. He noted as the fog rolled in around her in a bluish fug that swallowed everything in its path, that she was dressed elegantly in a thick white mink coat that matched the pale, creamy tones of her flesh, and from the look of it, not much beneath it. She wore a pomaded Eighteenth Century wig atop her head, but bore no gaudy jewels to mar her skin. She held a single fragrant pink rose to her dainty nose to ward away the stench of the Soho back streets. Her eyes were smoky and her lids hooded, yet there was a vitality in those pools of brown.
“Certainly, Fraulein Gisela.” the bouncer replied in a rough, cockney accent that matched the thick and heavy set of his muscular body as he opened the door.
Fraulein Gisela slipped in through the open door lithely, and with a heavy bang of metal against metal, the door slammed shut behind her, leaving no trace of her: as though the foggy and dark Soho laneway had simply swallowed her up.
* * * * * * * * * *
I recently acquired a new 1920s Carl Schneider half-doll of a lady sniffing a pink rose to add to my collection of lovely ladies, from a private collector in Melbourne who is downsizing and selling some of her impressive collection. And here she is! She is so dramatic, unusual and lovely that I wanted to share her with you all.
Whilst her powdered wig is very much in the spirit of the Eighteenth Century, her smoky eyes rimmed by dark kohl, and her languorous hooded lids are very evocative of the silent film stars of the 1920s, and that is what give me the idea of the narrative above. In those inter-war years it was not unusual for English actors and actresses to work on silent films in France and Germany, and for German or French silent picture stars to act in British films. This extended to American actresses from the newly founded Hollywoodland of Culver Studios coming to England to act on stage and in films, and for British actresses looking for greener pastures to break out in American film. The silent cinema was more forgiving of your origins, so long as you looked the part, than the original talkies were.
I have wrapped my half-doll in a beautiful white mink fur coat, which in truth is actually a vintage detachable white arctic fox fur cuff (cuffs and collars were often detachable in the 1920s allowing a different style to be applied to a coat in a lady\'s wardrobe with a quick change) which was a Christmas gift from my dear friend [https://www.flickr.com/photos/bkhagar_gallery]. It fits her perfectly!
The backdrop of the blueish grey London pea-souper is a piece of hand dyed pleated wool crêpe.
The "half-doll" is a dainty porcelain or bisque figurine, fashionable in the early Twentieth Century with an upper body, head, arms, but no legs. These dolls were produced in the thousands at the height of their popularity by German factories such as Dressel and Kister, Heubach, Goebel and Kestner. In this case, my half-doll is an early Carl Schneider from the early 1920s. Later these half-dolls were produced in France, America and later still, in Japan. They commonly served as handles and toppers for fabric covers made for powder boxes on ladies’ dressing tables and small brushes, however they were also made for jewellery boxes, pincushions, tea cosies and other covers. In this case, my German half-doll is an amalgam of Eighteenth Century and contemporary (for the time) Art Deco ideals of beauty. She is quite large, so I imagine that she would have been made for a lady’s boudoir and was most likely the topper for a powder bowl, a powder puff or brush. She has been hand painted.
Carl Schneider produced large quantities of half-dolls during the 1920s and 1930s. By the 1930s most were of average quality, though their 1920s range were sculpted with great detail and painted with precision. They also made dresser boxes out of porcelain. The business was founded by Carl Schneider along with artist Karl Unger and businessman Hermann Hutschenreuther between 1859 and 1861. To begin with the company only produced tableware, miniature sets for children and a few kitchen utensils, but unlike many other porcelain factories they did not simply copy existing designs but rather used their own creativity and started with export fairly early, which was soon rewarded as the first international award was received 1875 at the Exposición Internacional de Chile (Santiago World Fair). For many years] the company remained successful, but orders were slowly declining as customer preferences changed and by 1910 it was clear that the constant neglect as to investments regarding modernisation was slowly claiming its price. Wilhelm Wedel had to lay off his first ten workers in 1913. Wedel desperately tried everything possible to save the business and over the next years he managed to restructure parts of the factory and thus optimize work flow. In 1930 a mere 120 people still worked at the factory, and the work being produced was far from the zenith of their earlier quality pieces. Wedel died before the Second World War broke out. The business continued, now owned by the banks, and barely managed to exist throughout the War. The official records of 1947 show a remaining workforce of 70 people who were occupied with creating cheap mass produced goods to cover the enormous demand after the War. The company was nationalised in 1951. The defunct factory of Carl Schneiders Erben was finally closed in 1973 after finishing the last figurines still made in 1972.
120-year-old cinema in Breitensee, a subdistrict of Penzing, Vienna's 14th district.
"The cinema was founded in 1905 under the name Zeltkino Guggenberger near its current location on Breitenseer Street and moved to its current location in 1909. The Breitenseer Lichtspiele is a typical nickelodeon, built into a corner house from the Gründerzeit era. In its height, the cinema had numerous regulars - among them was the Viennese [...] poet H. C. Artmann.
Today Breitenseer Lichtspiele is an arthouse cinema that only shows Austrian and European films. In addition, there are regular silent film screenings, sometimes accompanied by text or music. The cinema has a functioning old movie projector by the Viennese company Friedl & Chaloupka and a small stage with a piano." en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Breitenseer_Lichtspiele
"verzeihen sie, gibts noch pomade
um diese späte abendstund?
des lebens bittre schokolade
verklebt mir jedes wort im mund."
H. C. Artmann: wenn fantômas mit schrägen schatten
One in the garden of the calendula officinalis ( the best pomade for wounds).
Thanks for the visit, have a wonderful day.
paid group (50L$) is necessary to get a gift: secondlife:///app/group/0bd91d40-9cd5-9f54-5afd-c8c91e53667c/about
12 colors for Catwa & Omega mesh head!
“Lucy Locket lost her pocket,
Kitty Fisher found it;
Not a penny was there in it,
Only ribbon round it.”
Traditional English Nursery Rhyme, published in 1842, but sung for centuries beforehand.
I don’t know if you know the nursery rhyme about Lucy Locket and Kitty Fisher above, but it was so much a part of my childhood, that I still know the words and the tune all these years later. What I didn’t know was the much more adult, scandalous and true story that is about Lucy Locket and Kitty Fisher and the infamous pocket that Lucy Locket lost, which Kitty Fisher found.
You might be wondering what a pocket means in the rhyme. Historically, the term "pocket" referred to a pouch worn around the waist by women in the Seventeenth to Nineteenth Centuries. Skirts or dresses of the time had an opening at the waistline to allow access to the pocket which hung around the woman's waist by a ribbon or tape. The opening in the skirt was formed by leaving unstitched, near the waist, the panels of fabric for the skirt. Fabrics could be around twenty inches wide, so seaming the selvedges offered a reliable opportunity for an opening. Corresponding opening in the panels of fabric forming the petticoat underneath.
Now for the scandalous truth of Lucy Locket and Kitty Fisher. In Georgian London of the Eighteenth Century, prostitution was rife and one of the most famous courtesans at the time was Catherine Maria "Kitty" Fisher. Originally a milliner, but after seeing how much more money she could make and how much more fun she could have making it, inside and outside the boudoir, Kitty decided to take matters into her own hands and made a career change. Aside from her more notable talents, Kitty was also known for her "clever and witty conversation", and her light-hearted antics, including reportedly eating "a thousand-pound banknote on her bread and butter". The second harlot in the rhyme, is Lucy Locket a barmaid at Ye Olde Cock Tavern in Fleet Street. Lucy Locket had regular customers also known as "pockets". She had one pocket who obviously liked her services a little too much, as he quickly ran out of money and was dumped by Lucy. He then turned his attention to Kitty and hence she "found the pocket" and since he was broke, there was not a penny in it. The ribbon refers to the custom among prostitutes to keep their bank notes tied to their thigh with a ribbon. So, the nursery rhyme of Lucy Locket, is all about Kitty taunting Lucy for dumping her lover and her taking him on. Fancy that!
This true story about Lucy Locket and Kitty Fisher, and the nursery rhyme itself inspired me to create this image. So here are our two ladies of the night in their fine Georgian pomaded wigs, brightly coloured plumes and elegant dresses as two German half-dolls Lucy Locket is on the right with a slightly distracted look on her face, whilst Kitty Fisher on the left is more attentive towards the lost pocket which is a small blue coin purse I was given, and woven through this little assemblage is an embroidered cotton ribbon that came from a slow stitching kit I bought. The scene is displayed on some beautiful Art Nouveau rose patterned fabric that was sent to me from Dorset by a friend a few months ago.
The "half-doll" is a dainty porcelain or bisque figurine, fashionable in the early Twentieth Century with an upper body, head, arms, but no legs. These dolls were produced in the thousands at the height of their popularity by German factories such as Dressel and Kister, Heubach, Goebel and Kestner. Later they were produced in France, America and later still, in Japan. They commonly served as handles and toppers for fabric covers made for powder boxes on ladies’ dressing tables and small brushes, however they were also made for jewellery boxes, pincushions, tea cosies and other covers. In this case, my two beautifully hand painted German half-doll with her Eighteenth Century finery, would have been made for a lady’s boudoir. They are two of my larger half-dolls at nine centimetres in height, so I imagine they would have probably been a topper for a jewellery box, brush or pincushion.
5Z11 Polmadie - Wembley sleeper stock move passes Atherstone almost silently - no wheel flats on the new stock right now! Thanks to Terry for alerting me.
Erde: lipstick Jordan PROMO
only for Catwa
1 week PROMO (140L$)
3-10 AUGUST
After August 10 - 420L$
maps: maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/Concordia/144/105/3378
market: marketplace.secondlife.com/p/Erde-lipstick-Jordan-PROMO/9...
These beautiful whist playing cards were made in Germany by the card firm B. Dondorf in 1909. The deck features beautiful chromolithographed images of people dressed in the pomaded wigs, frock coats, jabots and gowns of the Eighteenth Century, as the kings, queens and knaves in the deck. Sets like these are very collectable today, since even though millions of Dondorf cards were produced, complete packets in such good condition are hard to come by.
The theme for "Looking Close on Friday" for the 21st of June is "playing cards", which I found to be a lovely challenge. Besides the arrangement, my hardest decision was which deck of Dondorf cards did I want to use, since I have three sets in total. This set with its amazing graphics won out in the end. I hope you like my choice for the theme this week, and that it makes you smile.
The firm of B. Dondorf was founded in April 1833 by the lithographer Bernard Dondorf, who headed the company until July 1872. In that year, Dondorf's sons Carl and Paul, as well as his son in law Jacob Fries, assumed control of the firm which continued to operate under the original trademark. Jacob Fries left the firm in the early part of 1890. From the beginning, the company specialised in all branches of lithography. In cooperation with the printing firm of C. Naumann, Dondorf also printed paper bank notes for the Italian National Bank and for the Imperial Japanese Government. In 1871, the firm moved within Frankfurt from the Saalgasse to a new and larger factory site in the Bockenheimer Landstrasse 136. The steady growth of the company required the building of still additional subdivisions in 1890 and 1895. Principal products of the firm were playing cards, various games, greeting and post cards and various religious prints. The export of playing cards at Dondorf's accounted for much of the firm's business. The Scandinavian countries of Denmark, Norway and Sweden in the period before World War I, for example, imported nearly all of their playing cards from Dondorf. Similarly, the Dutch East Indies, now Indonesia were excellent customers. Bernard Dondorf, the founder died in his 94th year. He earned an enviable reputation as a lithographer, especially for his technique of etching the stone with a diamond stylus. His special methods of engraving bank notes were also unique. In 1929 the decision was reached to liquidate the firm.
As I stumbled about on the wilder, pathless parts of the Meuse Corridor I sprained my foot but was glad to fall head-long into a patch of Earthnut Pea, Lathyrus tuberosus. So recovering I sat down and looked more closely at the pretty flowers of this Sweet Pea.
Lathyrus tuberous also goes by the curious name 'Mice-with-tails' in various European languages (in The Netherlands 'Muizen-met-staarten' devolves in particular to the Betuwe region where there was once some minor cultivation of this plant).
Whence that name if the flowers don't remotely look like mice? Well, the tubers apparently remind of mice because of their small, blackish oblong shape with a 'string' (=mouse's tail) attached. These tubers, though small, are said to be good to eat after roasting or cooking, tasting a bit like Tame Chestnuts.
Mostly though this Sweet Pea is a thing of beauty.
But I found a number of references to the use of the flowers of Earthnut Pea for the production of an aromatic oil in the seventeenth century. A bit hard to trace the origin of that assertion. In the end I did find the work of a Swiss-German chemist, one Christoph Heinrich Hirzel (1828-1908): his Die Toiletten-Chemie, The Chemistry of Toiletries (1892, 4th ed.). He gives a fascinating account and also a kind of recipe book for the manufacture of various toiletry sweeteners and aromatics. One is for 'Platterbsenessenz' or 'Dufterbsenöl' (Erbse=Pea). Hirzel recommends a mixture of: 1/4 litre of 'Tuberosenextract', 1/4 of Orange flower extract, 1/4 of Rose pomade, and 30 grams of Vanilla extract. His description concludes: "Diese Platterbsenessenz riecht sehr angenehm und erinnert an Orangeblüten"; a bit disingenuous I would think given that a quarter of the mixture is indeed that of Orange flower extract.
Regardless my sprained foot, my lack of having been able to savor the cooked tubers, and Hirzel's disingenuity, this is a Very Pretty Sweet Pea in full flower!
Seit der Coronakrise sind ja nun alle angehalten, zu Hause zu bleiben. Ich habe die Zeit genutzt um einen neuen Backdrop für die Studiofotografie zu erstellen.
Strobist info:
A Jinbei flash head with a 90cm octabox infront of my face. Triggered via YN622C.
I’m not sure why we’re so drawn to sunsets and why they always make us feel good. We see plenty of them in our lifetime, and we expect vivid colors, but we’re still awe-struck each time we see them. Is it the completion of the day, or how it makes us feel like we’re able to relax finally after a day of intense sunlight and stress?
I often reference those cheesy Corona commercials when talking about just relaxing for a while. I find it hard to really sit still and do nothing, even enjoying a sunset. I don’t know if that’s ADD, restlessness, or my diet of 4 daily cups of coffee, but I’m learning if I really want some clarity, peace of mind and to hear what He has planned for me, then I must dedicate a little bit of time each week to allow my mind and body to go on screen saver for a while to just digest my mind just wander….
I have so much to do… I’m hungry…… sushi sounds good… sushi is expensive… man, I need to pay off that credit card… I haven’t played cards in a while………… poker… poker face… man I don’t get this Lady Gaga… who names themselves after what a baby says..... I remember when Dylan was a baby… I wonder what Dylan is doing… Is Caiden’s homework done… I remember having homework… wish I had homework instead of housework… man I need to pull those weeds… weed.. where’s my brother… haha, one of my favorite movies is Oh Brother Where Art Thou…. I need more pomade for my hair… I could get some at the store… while I’m there, I could get some food.. I’m still hungry………..
CPK - BBQ chicken chop salad today....
OH, I almost forgot to mention, my lovely photo assistant and flash holder was none other than Jill's Junk who brought her junk and met me down at the pier to help photograph and light this lovely couple. She let me take a few test fires of her Canon 5DM2 which I will never admit in public that I liked, but it had a real snappy feel to it. Nice to meet you Jill!!
Strobist - Vivitar 285HV shot at half power camera right, remotely triggered with Phottix PT-04II ebay triggers
Selz Shoes
Middle St. & North Street
Grayville IL
A well preserved wall sign. Looks like there was another ad on the wall at one time as "Pomades" are shown up top.
Cavendish Mews is a smart set of flats in Mayfair where flapper and modern woman, the Honourable Lettice Chetwynd has set up home after coming of age and gaining her allowance. To supplement her already generous allowance, and to break away from dependence upon her family, Lettice has established herself as a society interior designer, so her flat is decorated with a mixture of elegant antique Georgian pieces and modern Art Deco furnishings, using it as a showroom for what she can offer to her well heeled clients.
Tonight however we are at Glynes, the grand Georgian family seat of the Chetwynds in Wiltshire, and the home of Lettice’s parents, the presiding Viscount and Countess of Wrexham and the heir, their eldest son Leslie. Lettice is visiting her family home as her parents host their first Hunt Ball since 1914. Lady Sadie has been completely consumed over the last month by the planning and preparation of the occasion, determined that not only will it be the event of the 1922 county season, but also that it will be a successful entrée for her youngest daughter, still single at twenty-one years of age, to meet a number of eligible and marriageable men. Letters and invitations have flown from Lady Sadie’s bonheur de jour* to the families of eligible bachelors, some perhaps a little too old to be considered before the war, achieving more than modest success. Whilst Lettice enjoys dancing, parties and balls, she is less enthusiastic about the idea of the ball being used as a marriage market than her parents are.
We find ourselves in Lettice’s boudoir at Glynes, a room which she considers somewhat of a time capsule now with its old fashioned furnishings and mementoes of those halcyon pre-war summers. She hardly even considers it her room any more, so far removed is she from that giddy teenager who had crushes on her elder brothers’ friends and loved chintz covered furniture, floral wallpaper and sweet violet perfume. Lettice is sitting at her dressing table, a serpentine Edwardian piece of dark mahogany still adorned with the Art Nouveau silver dressing table set and perfume bottles she left behind along with her pre-war self when she moved to Mayfair in 1920. She sighs as she glances at her reflection in the mirror. Looking back is a beautiful, but rather pensive Cinderella in a pomaded wig bedecked in feathers, ropes of faux pearls and pale yellow roses that match the colour of the Eighteenth Century Georgian style ball gown of figured satin she wears. The Glynes Hunt Ball has always been a fancy dress, and whilst her father and Leslie usually eschew fancy dress in preference for their hunting pinks**, the Chetwynd women have always loved the occasion to get dressed up, and this year it is the world’s most famous and beloved faerie tale heroine whom Lettice is going as, an irony that makes her chuckle sadly to herself, when she considers that the ball is being held this year with the express purpose of her finding her prince charming.
“Not that there will be one there,” she says to herself, a snort of derision escaping her as she picks up one of the three faceted crystal bottles she has brought from her Cavendish Mews boudoir and places a few glistening drops of Shalimar*** on either side of her neck.
She looks across at the drawers of her travel de nécessaire**** and pulls one open and stares down at the glittering array of rings glinting in the lamplight, like fabulous chocolates made of gold and precious stones, nestled comfortably into their red velvet home. She looks down at the white kid elbow length gloves, an essential item for dancing so that no flesh actually comes into contact between a jeune fille à marier***** and an eligible bachelor lest the latter spoil the prospects of the former, and ponders which pieces she should wear. Her garnet and pearl Art Deco cluster cocktail ring perhaps? The baguette cut Emerald surrounded by brilliant cut diamonds? No, the daisy ring of brilliant cut diamonds that she was given as a birthday gift by her father on her twenty-first: that will go nicely against the white kid of her gloves.
“Oh!”
A gasp from the door to her bedroom breaks Lettices contemplation of her jewellery. Looking up she sees her mother reflected in the mirror’s glass. Turning around in her seat she lets her hand drape languidly over the back of her ornately carved dressing table chair with its pink satin seat.
“Mamma,” Lettice remarks. “I didn’t hear you come in.”
Dressed as the national personification of Britain, Lady Sadie is every inch the helmeted female warrior Britannia, only her battle lies in manoeuvring her reluctant and recalcitrant daughter about the Glynes ballroom rather than defending the realm. Standing in a white Roman style shift with gold embroidery of a key pattern along the hem, sleeves and neck, she has a brass helmet decorated with thick red plumes atop her proudly held head. There is a steely determination in both the line of her clenched jaw and her glittering eyes, yet there is also a hint of approval as she takes in her daughter’s very feminine appearance.
“I just wanted to see you before the ball commences, Lettice.” Lady Sadie says brittlely as she glides elegantly across the floor, her gown like a muslin cloud billowing about her serene figure. She sighs as she gazes around the bedroom. “I do wish you’d return home Lettice, rather than living in that dreadful place, London. It isn’t right you know, for a young unmarried girl to be living on her own in London. You’d be much better to stay here and learn how to run a real home to ready yourself for when you are chatelaine…”
“You said you wanted to see me, Mamma?” Lettice cuts her mother off sharply, not even countenancing moving back to live beneath her mother’s disapproving gaze. “About the ball, was it?”
Lady Sadie’s serenity is shattered by her daughter’s curt interruption and her face resumes its usual scowl when addressing her daughter. “Yes. Yes it was, Lettice.”
“Well, best you tell me then,” the younger woman replies, half turning back to her dressing table, and glancing over her right shoulder to the pretty porcelain clock decorated with entwined roses on the mantlepiece. “The first guests will be arriving shortly.”
“Very well Lettice, if you wish to play it this way,” Sadie’s frown becomes more pronounced as she sighs. She looks at the impatient form of her youngest daughter, whom she considers to be her most problematic child by far. “I want no difficulties from you this evening.”
“Difficulties!” Lettice releases a burst of laughter. “Me?”
“Don’t be coy!” Lady Sadie snaps. “It’s most unbecoming.”
“You always said that coyness was an alluring charm.” Lettice remarks sweetly in return, knowing that this will goad her mother, but unable to resist the temptation to do so.
“It is, except when you are in a conversation with your mother.” Lady Sadie barks back, her response rewarded by a cheeky half smile from her daughter who doesn’t even attempt to hide her amusement. “Now, I don’t have time for your silly games, my girl. I expect you to stand next to me to greet our guests when they start to arrive. You will be polite and acknowledge each one, even if you don’t particularly care for their company.”
“Of course Mamma,” Lettice replies demurely.
“And I don’t want any sly remarks from you.” The older woman wags her heavily bejewelled fingers warningly. “You are on show this evening, and I expect nothing less than ladylike decorum in all manner of action and speech.”
“Yes Mamma,” Lettice sighs.
“Gerald Bruton and his acerbic tongue have been a bad influence on you since you both moved to London and started spending more time together.” Lady Sadie quips. “Oh, and whilst we are on the subject of Gerald, I don’t want you spending all evening with him, ensconced in a corner, gossiping, and deriding our guests. Do you understand?”
“Well, I can hardly ignore him, Mamma, if he engages me in conversation. You said yourself just now that I am to be ladylike in all manner of action and speech.”
“You know what I mean, Lettice! Are you being obtuse on purpose, just to annoy me?”
“No, Mamma!” Lettice raises her hands in defence of her words. “Mind you, Gerald is an eligible young bachelor too.”
“And you know he is totally unsuitable.” retorts Lady Sadie. “He’s the second son for a start, and the Brutons are in rather straitened circumstances, in case you don’t know. Lord Bruton is selling off another few parcels of land along his western boundary to help pay for the upkeep required on Bruton Hall.”
“I didn’t know that!” Lettice remarks, genuinely surprised as her hand goes to her throat.
“Yes, your father told me he heard as much from Lord Bruton on New Year’s Eve. He is selling parcels of land there because he hopes for a better price from a developer, being the closest point to Glynes village and the main road.” Lady Sadie admits. Scrutinising her daughter through sharp and slightly squinting eyes she adds, “I can trust your discretion, can’t I Lettice?”
“Of course, Mamma!” she replies genuinely. “Does Aunt Gwen know?”
“I haven’t asked her, and I’m not going to cause either of them embarrassment by raising it, but I’ll assume yes. She must have some idea. I’m just grateful that tonight is a fancy dress. It will save poor Gwyneth from having to wear that same tired, old fashioned frock she wore here on New Year’s Eve tonight.”
“Yes, I noticed that too.”
“Anyway, hopefully you’ll be too busy dancing on the arm of an eligible bachelor to spend any time with Gerald. Besides, he should be focusing on finding himself a suitable heiress, although coming from such an unremarkable family with limited means, he’s not exactly the most exciting prospect, in spite of his handsome looks.”
Lettice doesn’t reply, remembering her father’s words in the Glynes library late the previous year when he mentioned that Lady Sadie was quite unaware of Gerald’s inclinations. To avoid embarrassment on either of their parts, and to keep Gerald in at least the lower echelons of her mother’s good graces, she decides that discretion is the better part of valour and keeps quiet, which luckily Lady Sadie takes as docility from her daughter.
“Now, do you remember whom you are to dance with this evening, Lettice?”
“Yes Mamma,” Lettice sighs, unable to stop herself from rolling her eyes as she begins to recite. “Jonty Hastings, Selwyn Spencely, Edward Lambley, Septimius Faversham, Bryce MacTavish, Oliver Edgars, Piers Hackford-Jones, Tarquin Howard.” She cringes inwardly. “and Nicholas Ayers.”
“Don’t forget Sir John Nettleford-Hughes!” Lady Sadie reminds her daughter.
“Ugh!” Lettice’s nose screws up in disgust. “I’m not dancing with Sir John! He’s… he’s so old and lecherous!”
“Nonsense Lettice! Sir John may be a little bit older than the other gentlemen on offer, but he is no less eligible. You could do worse than present yourself, as I hope you will, as a jeune fille à marier to him. He has a beautiful estate in Buckinghamshire and houses in Bedfordshire, London and not to mention Fontengil Park just a stone’s throw south of here in our very own Wiltshire.”
“Mamma, he likes young chorus girls!”
Lady Sadie stiffens at the mention of such women in her presence. “Oh, that’s just idle drawing room gossip, Lettice!”
“It’s not! It’s true.” She folds her arms akimbo and pouts. “He’s a lecherous old man who likes young girls who don’t wear knickers!”
“Lettice!” Lady Sadie grasps at her throat in horror. “Don’t say such scandalous things! Every unmarred man who went through the war had an infatuation with a Gaiety Girl at some stage.”
“It’s more than an infatuation or phase with him, Mamma! I’ll not dance with such an old man! I won’t!”
“You will my girl, because it is your duty.”
Lettice sighs and goes to say something as a retort, but her mother’s bejewelled fingers rise again, the diamonds winking from their gold and platinum settings.
“I told you. I want no trouble from you tonight. This ball is for you. It may be the Hunt Ball, but we all know it’s for you to meet a potential husband. It’s your duty to dance at least once with every eligible man I have invited here this evening for you to pick from. So, dance with him you will. And let that be an end to your obstinance, Lettice.”
Realising suddenly that if she wants this evening to be as painless as possible, she really must do as her father suggests and make an effort to try and please her mother, even if the idea of a husband finding ball appals her, Lettice sighs and acquiesces with a nod. “Very well Mamma.”
“That’s a good girl.” Lady Sadie replies with a pleased purr in her voice.
The older woman turns to walk away and then gasps, spinning back to her daughter.
“I almost forgot why I came here to see you, Lettice.”
“I thought it was to talk about who I was to dance with, Mamma.”
“Well, there was that too, but no. I wanted to give you this to wear for the evening.” The older woman fishes into the capacious flowing sleeve of her white muslin shift and withdraws a sparkling necklace of brilliant cut diamonds and rubies set in platinum, which she passes to her daughter.
Lettice gasps. “The Glynes necklace!” She takes the fabulous jewellery confection in her warm hands, feeling the coolness of the stones and metal against her palms and fingers as she admires the sixteen enormous diamonds and four equally large rubies in their settings. “But this is…”
Once again, Lady Sadie’s hands rise, indicating for Lettice to desist from speaking.
“I know that you and I seldom see eye-to-eye on anything, Lettice, and I doubt we ever will,” the older woman says crisply. “And that includes the ball tonight. Yet you have shown the good grace to make an effort to come and have chosen a beautiful costume. I hope that good grace will extend to your behaviour this evening. I know you don’t agree with you father’s or my idea that you could meet your potential future husband here tonight, but there we agree to disagree. If you would just allow yourself to enjoy the spectacle of the evening and join in the spirit that this is for you, you might find a man to whom you can entrust your heart. I know that this necklace is the property of the chatelaine of Glynes, and therefore usually worn by her, however I thought because of your good grace, and your concerted efforts,” Her eyebrows arch slightly as she sizes up her daughter again, looking for any hidden pockets of rebellion beneath the elegantly costumed girl. “Having the opportunity to wear this necklace this evening would help you enjoy the occasion.”
Lettice stares down at the winking jewels in her hands. “I don’t know what to say, Mamma.”
“A thank you would be customary, and quite acceptable, Lettice.”
“Thank you Mamma.”
*A bonheur de jour is a type of lady's writing desk. It was introduced in Paris by one of the interior decorators and purveyors of fashionable novelties called marchands-merciers around 1760, and speedily became intensely fashionable. Decorated on all sides, it was designed to sit in the middle of a room so that it could be admired from any angle.
**Hunting pinks is the name given to the traditional scarlet jacket and related attire worn by fox-hunters.
***Shalimar perfume was created when Jacques Guerlain poured a bottle of ethylvanillin into a bottle of Jicky, a fragrance created by Guerlain in 1889. Raymond Guerlain designed the bottle for Shalimar, which was modelled after the basins of eastern gardens and Mongolian stupa art.
****A travel de nécessaire is a travelling case used in the Edwardian era for country weekend house parties and holidays away from home. They would usually contain items like combs, brushes and perfume bottles needed for maintaining one’s appearance, but could be much grander and contain many other implements including pens and ink bottles, manicure sets and more. There were also some specifically designed for the use of jewellery, with velvet lined compartments for rings, neckaces, brooches and earrings.
*****A jeune fille à marier was a marriageable young woman, the French term used in fashionable circles and the upper-classes of Edwardian society before the Second World War.
This pretty corner of an Edwardian boudoir may appear like something out of a historical house display, but it is in fact part of my 1:12 miniatures collection and includes items from my childhood, as well as those I have collected as an adult.
Fun things to look for in this tableau include:
The silver dressing table set on the dressing table, consisting of mirror, brushes and a comb, as well as the tray on which the perfume bottle stand has been made by Warwick Miniatures in Ireland, who are well known for the quality and detail applied to their pieces.
On the silver tray there is a selection of sparkling perfume bottles, which are handmade by an English artisan for the Little Green Workshop. Made of cut coloured crystals set in a gilt metal frames or using vintage cut glass beads they look so elegant and terribly luxurious. The faceted pink glass perfume bottle, made from an Art Deco bead came with the dressing table, which I acquired from Kathleen Knight’s Doll House Shop.
Also on the tray is a container of Val-U-Time talcum powder: an essential item for any Edwardian lady, and a metal container of Madame Pivette’s Complexion Beautifier, which was introduced in 1905 by Doctor J.B. Lynas and Son and produced in Logansport, Indiana. Doctor Lynas started his own profession in 1866, which was the making of "family remedies", which quickly gained popularity. It became so popular, that he sold extensively throughout the United States. His products carried names such as the Catarrh Remedy, Hoosier Cough Syrup, Ready Relief, Rheumatic Liniment, White Mountain Salve, Egyptian Salve and Liver Pills. Within a few years the "doctor's" medicine sales amounted to around ten thousand US dollars per year. By the turn of the Twentieth Century he had expanded his product line to include flavorings such as vanilla, cherry, lemon; and also, soaps, lotions and perfumes for ladies. These items were made by Little Things Dollhouse Miniatures in Lancashire.
The travel de necessaire, complete with miniature jewellery, I acquired from Melody Jane’s Doll House Suppliers in the United Kingdom.
The dressing table chair did not come with the dressing table, although it does match nicely. Upholstered in a very fine pink satin, it was made by the high-end dolls’ house miniature furniture manufacturer, Bespaq.
The elbow length white evening gloves on the seat of the chair are artisan pieces made of kid leather. I acquired these from a high street dolls house specialist when I was a teenager. Amazingly, they have never been lost in any of the moves that they have made over the years are still pristinely clean.
Cavendish Mews is a smart set of flats in Mayfair where flapper and modern woman, the Honourable Lettice Chetwynd has set up home after coming of age and gaining her allowance. To supplement her already generous allowance, and to break away from dependence upon her family, Lettice has established herself as a society interior designer, so her flat is decorated with a mixture of elegant antique Georgian pieces and modern Art Deco furnishings, using it as a showroom for what she can offer to her well heeled clients.
Tonight however we are at Glynes, the grand Georgian family seat of the Chetwynds in Wiltshire, and the home of Lettice’s parents, the presiding Viscount and Countess of Wrexham and the heir, their eldest son Leslie. Lettice is visiting her family home as her parents host their first Hunt Ball since 1914. Lady Sadie has been completely consumed over the last month by the planning and preparation of the occasion, determined that not only will it be the event of the 1922 county season, but also that it will be a successful entrée for her youngest daughter, still single at twenty-one years of age, to meet a number of eligible and marriageable men. Letters and invitations have flown from Lady Sadie’s bonheur de jour* to the families of eligible bachelors, some perhaps a little too old to be considered before the war, achieving more than modest success. Whilst Lettice enjoys dancing, parties and balls, she is less enthusiastic about the idea of the ball being used as a marriage market than her parents are.
The fancy dress Hunt Ball is now in full swing. The band hired by the Viscount plays waltzes, foxtrots, and polkas, as well as a smattering of novelty dances like the Grizzly Bear and the Bunny Hug to amuse the younger set of party-goers. Their sound carries over the general hubbub of voices chattering punctuated by laughter and the clinking of glasses. The Georgian style ballroom of Glynes with its golden yellow wallpaper and gilt Louis Quatorze furnishings is alive with colour and movement as pirates dance with nursery rhyme dames, maharajas foxtrot with princesses and clowns waltz with ladies in Georgian dress. Around the perimeter of the ballroom’s parquet dance floor, guest mill about, sharing county and London gossip, or admire and remark on the fancy dress attired couples taking to the floor. In their midst, Lettice, dressed as Cinderella in an Eighteenth Century gown and pomaded wig, dances, or rather tries to dance, a foxtrot with eligible bachelor and heir to several large estates, Jonty Hastings.
“Oh, do push off Howley, there’s a good chap!” Gerald says rudely as he tries to cut in and sweep Lettice away from Jonty’s rather stiff and awkward arms. “I don’t think Lettice’s feet can survive any more of your hopeless, uncoordinated trotting.”
“Don’t call me that, Gerald,” Jonty replies rather wetly, his face taking on the appearance of a petulant child as it reddens in embarrassment. “I’ve not been called that for years, thankfully, after you christened me with that awful nickname. You always were the mean one.” He glances at Lettice who is holding Gerald’s gaze imploringly. “Except to your favourites, of course.”
“I’m sorry Howley,” Gerald continues, deliberately ignoring Jonty’s request not to use the nickname given him. “But you can’t seriously expect me to stand back and watch you try unsuccessfully to sweep the most eligible and beautiful girl in the place into your arms. It’s simply too preposterous for words. Try one of the Miss Evanses instead.” Gerald nods in the direction of the two elderly spinster sisters who live in Holland House, a Seventeenth Century manor house in Glynes village. “They seem to be more to your standards, and they aren’t as picky as Lettice is.”
As Jonty pauses to look in the direction of the two elderly women, one dressed as Little Bo-Peep and the other as Miss Muffett, both looking like macabre versions of their nursery rhyme characters, Gerald seizes his chance and cuts firmly in, casting Jonty aside with an adept movement and sweeping Lettice quickly away.
“Oh you really are awful, Gerald!” Lettice says with a serious look, gazing at her friend dressed in a Tudor courtier’s outfit made from the brocades and laces left over from his clients’ commissioned frocks.
“Well, I’m the second son of an insignificant and impoverished family, so it’s my prerogative to despise someone like Howley Howling Hastings with all his wealth and good connections.”
“I don’t think it suits you to be so cruel, Gerald. You may not have Jonty’s family bank vault, but you have grace, charm and handsomeness that he doesn’t possess, and I think that makes you about even. Poor Jonty.”
“What?” Gerald replies. “Would you rather I left you with him, Lettice?”
“Well, no.“ Lettice admits with a downwards glance as her cheeks fill with an embarrassed flush.
“Exactly! We can’t have our Cinderella of the ball being monopolised by such a wet blanket as Howley! You’ll never marry him anyway.”
“I think Mater would like it if I did.” Lettice admits. “By your own admission, he’s very wealthy, and very eligible.”
“So is Nicholas Ayers,” Gerald counters. “In fact, he’s richer, but you aren’t going to marry him. I think if he has his way, he won’t marry anyone, and I stand a far better chance with him than you do. Doesn’t your mother know he is a lost cause?”
“No, she doesn’t,” she cautions Gerald. “And you mustn’t tell her, Gerald. She’d be horrified, parading him before me if she knew. Thinking of my mother, where is she?” Lettice asks, glancing around at the sweeping couples that glide about them.
Gerald cranes his neck to try and see over the top of the sea of bobbing wigs, turbans, pirate hats and clown cones. “She’s over there,” He glances with concern at Lettice.
“What is it Gerald?”
“She’s talking with Sir John Nettleford-Hughes, no doubt about you. Lucky I’ve saved you, my dear! Now, just follow my lead.”
And with that, Gerald begins to move Lettice around the floor, away from the watchful eyes of her mother and other party guests to the door leading out into the antechamber adjoining the ballroom. As they reach the edge of the floor, Gerald sweeps Lettice out, bows and offers her his arm as he escorts her off the floor and through the doors of the antechamber.
“Come. I think you’re in need of refreshments, Cinderella,” Gerald says with a smile. “After all your exertions on the dancefloor.”
Gerald escorts Lettice through the guests milling about in the antechamber, the pair smiling and imparting passing greetings with nods to friends and acquaintances they meet along the way.
“Where are you taking me?” Lettice asks.
Gerald doesn’t answer her, until finally they walk out into the great Adam style hall of Glynes. The sound of chatter from the room behind them takes on a ghostly air, as do the refrains of the band as they strike up a waltz.
“Oh dear. I should be dancing this with Nicholas Ayres.” Lettice remarks.
“Oh pooh, Nicholas!” Gerald scoffs. “He’ll be as grateful to be off the hook as you are, darling. Here!” He stops before one of the gilt Palladian console tables that flank the entrance to the ballroom antechamber and indicates to its surface next to an ostentatious floral arrangement of soft pink hot house roses, white asters and frothy Queen Anne’s lace. “I managed to steal a few petit-fours from the buffet being set up in the dining room, and get u a fresh glass of champagne each.” He picks up a glass of bubbling golden liquid and passes it to Lettice. “Cin cin, darling!”
“Oh Gerald!” Lettice gasps, happily accepting the glass which she clinks with his. “How did you manage to do it?”
“Well, as you said so yourself just moments ago, I have grace, charm and handsomeness: traits that come in useful from time to time.”
“How?”
“There was a rather gullible girl I remember from the village who is helping the caterers set up the dining room table. She was happy to fetch a couple of little deadlies for the young man from the Big House, especially when I begged and cast her a mock look of sadness and misty eyes.”
“Oh, you are wicked, Gerald. You do know how to make an evening more pleasurable.”
Gerald smiles proudly, his eyes glinting with mischief.
“I do hope you’re happy with the selection. I managed to get a caviar, a lettuce and egg and a tuna and cucumber.” He glances down at the gilt edged white plate on the console table’s surface standing next to a porcelain figurine of a girl playing a lute.
“Rather!” Lettice concurs, removing her right glove and taking up the caviar petit-four. She sighs as she takes a small bite from it. “Oh! I was so busy dancing with eligible bachelor after eligible bachelor that I hadn’t noticed how hungry I was.” She smiles and takes another bite and then a third, consuming the whole thing.
“Pleased to be of service, my lady!” Gerald makes a sweeping bow before her.
“You know I could get into terrible trouble being out here with you, you know.” Lettice giggles, taking another sip of cool champagne.
“How so?” Gerald asks. “You know you are perfectly safe with me.”
“Oh it’s not that. Mamma gave me a stern talking to before the commencement of this evening’s ceremonies. She warned me that your acerbic tongue is a bad influence on me.”
“Acerbic tongue?” Gerald cries, looking aghast, albeit not seriously, at Lettice. “Moi? Acerbic! The nerve of her saying that!”
“And she told me that it would be a waste of my time an energy spending time with you, when you are so frightfully unsuitable, being the spare, rather than the heir.”
“Not to mention my family’s somewhat questionable finances.”
“Well, “ Lettice blushes, casting her eyes down to the face of the statue of the lute player. “She did mention that too.”
“Did she also mention I’d rather take off with Leslie than you?” Gerald asks her in a whisper. When Lettice shakes her head, he sighs and then continues in a slightly higher volume, yet still not much more than a whisper. “Well at least some things about my life still remain private. I suppose our money troubles were bound to reach Lady Sadie’s ears at some stage. I just hope she doesn’t mention it to Mamma.”
“Surely if your father is in financial difficulties, your mother would know about it, Gerald.”
“I don’t think so. He has always done his best to protect Mamma from having to worry about such things. When she mentions going up to London for the Season, or buying a new hat, he always manages to placate her with some story or other. So, as far as I’m aware, she has no idea and lives in blissful ignorance.”
Suddenly, the door leading from the driveway clatters open and a gentleman in a long cloak and top hat appears in silhouette against the lights overhead. With all the guests having arrived some time before, the front door is no longer manned by the Chetwynd’s first footman, Marsden, who is now occupied with serving champagne in the ballroom, so the gentleman opens the glass vestibule door himself and walks in unannounced into the hall, which is empty except for a few couples trying to find a moment of privacy in the shadow of a pillar and Lettice and Gerald enjoying a few minutes of elicit peace.
“I say, can I help you?” Lettice asks, placing her glass on the marble tabletop and walking across the hall.
“Oh I say,” the gentleman remarks in a clipped, well-bred voice as he removes his cloak and shakes it out noisily. “I am sorry. I’m awfully late. Can you point me in the direction of one of…” He stops abruptly as he gazes down at Lettice’s face looking up at him.
“One of?” Lettice asks, looking up expectantly into a pair of rather striking deep brown eyes.
“Goodness! Can it?” the stranger stammers. “No! No, it… no it can’t be! Can it?”
Lettice continues to look up in bewilderment at the man as he now removes his hat, revealing a head of neatly coiffed brown hair that frames his handsome face. “I’m afraid you’ll have to finish your sentence if you wish me to help you, sir.” she remarks prettily.
“I’m so sorry,” the stranger apologises again. “But are you the Honourable Miss Lettice Chetwynd by any chance?”
Lettice shakes her head slightly in disbelief, her eyes squinting. “Yes, yes I am. Have we met, sir?”
“Oh not for many years. The last time I saw you was at Queen Charlotte’s Ball** in 1919, but I haven’t actually spoken to you since we were about six, yet I’d know your face anywhere.”
“Not since we were six?” Lettice giggles, her laugh echoing about the mostly deserted entrance hall. “You have a good memory for faces if you remember mine so well. Who are you?”
“I wouldn’t expect you to recognise me, dear Lettice, but I’m Selwyn: Selwyn Spencely.”
Lettice’s eyes widen in disbelief. “Good heavens! Selwyn!” Lettice laughs loudly. “I say, how do you do!”
“I’m sorry I’m so unconscionably late!” Selwyn apologises again. “My mother has been unwell with a rather nasty cold. I was reading to her, and I tarried later with her than I perhaps should have. I just wanted to be sure she had dozed off before I left.”
“That’s quite alright, Selwyn.” Lettice continues to look up in surprise to Selwyn’s patrician face. “The last time I can remember seeing you was when we were around six and you were covered in hedgerow mud, being pulled away by your mother into a waiting carriage.”
“Yes,” chuckled Selwyn. “I remember that occasion well. She was furious!”
“I remember thinking it was at odds to her name, being a beautiful flower. Violet isn’t it?”
“Zinnia, actually.”
“Oh yes! Lady Zinnia!” Lettice giggles self-consciously. Then, looking down she notices her newest guest’s hands are full. “Oh here, let me take your cape and hat, Selwyn.” She reaches out and takes them from him. “I’ll find Bromley or another servant to take them away.”
A gentle, yet deliberate clearing of his throat alerts both Selwyn and Lettice, who had forgotten all about him momentarily, to Gerald’s presence behind them, lolling against the console table. “Hullo Selwyn.” he greets the newcomer crisply.
“Gerald! How do you do, old chap!” Selwyn smiles over at Gerald.
“I didn’t know you two knew each other.” Lettice remarks.
“Oh yes,” Selwyn replies jovially. “Gerald and I are members of the same club. Aren’t we Gerald? I haven’t seen much of you lately.”
“Well, I’ve been too busy to spend much time at the club lately.” Gerald excuses himself offhandedly.
“Ahh.” Selwyn acknowledges non-committally, yet with an air of knowing something unspoken as he cocks an eyebrow. “Frocks, isn’t it?”
“Oh yes!” Lettice enthuses. “He’s made my wardrobe for more stylish and modish, haven’t you Gerald?”
Gerald blushes at the compliment, but says nothing.
“Well, come along Selwyn,” Lettice says with delight as she hooks her arm into his. “Let’s go find Mamma and Pappa. They’ll be pleased to see you here, even if your mother couldn’t be here.”
“Shall I take those?” Gerald asks helpfully, reaching out for Selwyn’s cape, hat and gloves. “You can’t very well go back into the ballroom holding them.”
“Oh would you, Gerald?” Lettice exclaims. “Oh that would be a wonderful help.”
“I’m practically a member of the family, so I’ll have no difficulty finding Bramley.” He takes the items in his hands. “Now, you two run along.” He flaps his hands at them. “Shoo.”
The pair give Gerald appreciative smiles, and then walk off slowly, arm in arm, back into the ballroom antechamber, Lettice’s giggling and their quite chatting quickly enveloped into the general burble of voices.
Gerald looks back at the two unfinished glasses of champagne and the canapes and sighs, suddenly acutely aware of how empty the cavernous hallway is without his beloved friend.
*A bonheur de jour is a type of lady's writing desk. It was introduced in Paris by one of the interior decorators and purveyors of fashionable novelties called marchands-merciers around 1760, and speedily became intensely fashionable. Decorated on all sides, it was designed to sit in the middle of a room so that it could be admired from any angle.
**The Queen Charlotte's Ball is an annual British debutante ball. The ball was founded in 1780 by George III as a birthday celebration in honour of his wife, Charlotte of Mecklenburg-Strelitz, for whom the ball is named. The Queen Charlotte's Ball originally served as a fundraiser for the Queen Charlotte's and Chelsea Hospital. The annual ball continued after Queen Charlotte's death in 1818, but was criticised by the British Royal Family in the 1950s and 1960s and folded in 1976. It was revived in the Twenty First Century by Jenny Hallam-Peel, a former debutante, who shifted its focus from entering high society to teaching business skills, networking, and etiquette, and fundraising for charities. Debutantes being presented curtsey to a large birthday cake in honour of Queen Charlotte.
This grand Georgian interior may appear like something out of a historical stately country house, but it is in fact part of my 1:12 miniatures collection and includes items from my childhood, as well as those I have collected as an adult.
Fun things to look for in this tableau include:
The floral arrangement in urn on top of the console table consists of pink roses, white asters and white Queen Anne’s Lace. Although unmarked, it was made by an American miniature artisan with incredible attention to detail. The Seventeenth Century musical statue of the lady playing a lute to the right of the flower arrangement was made by Warwick Miniatures in Ireland, who are well known for the quality and detail applied to their pieces. It was hand painted by me. The floral arrangement and the statue are both one of a pair.
The savoury petite fours on the gilt white porcelain plate have been made in England by hand from clay by former chef turned miniature artisan, Frances Knight. Her work is incredibly detailed and realistic, and she says that she draws her inspiration from her years as a chef and her imagination. Each petit four is only five millimetres in diameter and between five and eight millimetres in height! The selection includes egg and lettuce, Beluga caviar and salmon and cucumber. The two glasses of sparkling champagne are made of real glass and were made by Karen Ladybug Miniatures in the United Kingdom.
The Palladian console table on which the items stand is one of a pair. With their golden caryatids and marble tops, they were commissioned by me from American miniature artisan Peter Cluff. Peter specialises in making authentic and very realistic high quality 1:12 miniatures that reflect his interest in Georgian interior design. His work is highly sought after by miniature collectors worldwide. This pair of tables are one-of-a-kind and very special to me.
The gilt Louis Quatorze chairs and the gilt swan pedestals in the background are made by the high-end miniature furniture maker, Bespaq.
All the paintings around the Glynes ballroom antechamber in their gilded frames are 1:12 artisan pieces made by Amber’s Miniatures in the United States and the wallpaper of the ballroom antechamber is an authentic copy of hand-painted Georgian wallpaper from the 1770s.
The marquetry floor of the room is in fact a wooden chessboard. The chessboard was made by my Grandfather, a skilful and creative man in 1952. Two chess sets, a draughts set and three chess boards made by my Grandfather were bequeathed to me as part of his estate when he died a few years ago.