There are elements of taste – and therefore interior design – that are seemingly innate. Images, stored in the mind’s eye conjure up an impression of ‘home’, whether that’s the pattern in a hearth rug, the colours of the South African veldt, or a table set with particular china. “For the first three years of my life, I never stopped crying,” says Emma Burns. “My mother would push me down Kensington Church Street, and, for some relief, visit the local pawn shop where she would buy me the odd Royal Doulton plate or Worcester cup. She was determined that I should not eat off pieces covered in teddy bears.”
As a child, Nicky Haslam lived at Great Huntridge Manor, which, according to David Hicks, contained some of the best rooms in England. “I remember details, and sometimes I plop parts into something else,” he says. Early memories become seminal – whatever they are; Sarah Vanrenen of Vanrenen GW Designs recollects “fending off parking wardens while sitting on double yellows outside various antique shops waiting for my mother, Penny Morrison”. She explains that a significant part of her upbringing involved “driving to site visits, interior projects, fabric and antique shops,” and that it made her who she is – “it is no surprise to my mother or myself that we find ourselves within the same industry.”
Notably, Sarah’s not the only interior designer on our Top 100 list whose parent features too. Rita Konig, daughter of Nina Campbell, talks reverently of the thrill that comes with the job. “There’s a moment in building a house that is terribly exciting. What is the life in this house going to be? It’s a bit like the feeling of spring. My mother taught me that.” Then there are the designers whose parents dealt in or collected antiques, which include Rose Uniacke, and Daniel Slowik, who mentions being raised in “a very full house. My mother was also an early collector of kitsch, which included flying ducks, knitting patterns, and other general ephemera. So that started my antique dealing, and because of my mother I saw antiques as component parts of a house. My whole idea that interiors should include both carefully chosen antiques and antiques of interest comes from her, along with the idea of a layered look, of building up a collection, and of it being eclectic and fun – in fact, in marrying Benedict, I might just have married another version of my mother.”
The sense of lineage is fascinating, and it does all rather beg the question, what other elements that we now see between the pages of House & Garden should we credit to the mothers of those who designed the rooms featured? Brandon Schubert describes how he, too, learnt about collecting from his mother. “Her favourite place in the world is San Miguel de Allende, in Mexico, and I grew up surrounded by all sorts of Mexican pottery, linens and other bits and pieces that she’d bought over the years. Her collecting taught me the joy of having elements of foreign influence in a home. And most importantly, if you’re out and about and see something that you like, you need to buy it – and then send it home and enjoy it.” He also details how his mother believes “that interior layouts are there to suit the people using the house. She wouldn’t think twice about eliminating a bedroom to make a larger dressing room, for instance, and her way of prioritising function has helped me in thinking about my own work. It’s easy to feel constrained by a building’s existing characteristics and it helps to take a step back and remember that sometimes change is needed to make a building work as it should.” Finally, he mentions growing up in a house where the floors were covered in beautiful and often unusual Middle Eastern carpets; “and so I think rugs are essential to a finished interior, quality matters, and don’t be afraid to lay something eye catching on the floor”.
It seems that pattern in particular is something that is passed down the maternal line. Victoria von Westenholz, who works with her father Piers von Westenholz, says “the assumption is that he is the major influence behind my aesthetic, but that’s not the whole story; in fact, my mother has influenced both of us. Her sense of prettiness, her affection for florals and chintzes – she grew up in chintz heaven – has left a lasting impact, and is very visible in my own home, as well as my projects. She’s always wanted a ‘Bowood Room’, and in the drawing room of the house I grew up in she’s used a Colefax chintz for the curtains, sofa and cushions. I love that matchy-matchy look (as does my father, now. If he likes a fabric, he’ll put it everywhere).” Similarly, for Sarah Vanrenen, “born in South Africa and with a childhood both in London and the English countryside, I was lucky enough to appreciate the South African disposition for bold colour as well as the traditional and romantic English country houses. It was in those houses, in the Eighties, gazing at metre upon metre of beautiful Colefax fabrics, that I began to understand where we decorate and with what”.
And then there’s the instilled confidence, and other values. “Watching my mother is how I learnt how to do things by eye. I have learnt to trust my instincts, as she does, when anything aesthetic is involved. Decorating feels completely natural to me, and colour and pattern is something I understand intuitively,” says Sarah. “My mum taught me to approach life with true openness,” says Clare Gaskin. “She also taught me not to assume anything about a person or a situation, something which I really live by, and it’s been an invaluable asset to carry through to my work as it helps me approach every project as a new opportunity without type casting it.” Clare’s mother was a maths teacher, “she also taught me how to budget and be financially independent – more skills which benefit me personally as well as my business”.
There’s a comforting thought that our mothers will, in turn, have learned what they have passed on from their mothers. There’s a sense of layering to a mother’s influence – rather like the best interiors.
