Only the wealthy dare
apply
I’m just back from a couple of days in London where I went
to support my partner Rai on an exploration and buying expedition at the
Decorex Trade Fair. This is one of several major annual events showing off the
great and the good in the interior design sector.
Compared to one or two other fairs I’ve been to for the same
purpose, Decorex is what might be called ‘high-end’. That’s to say that for the
most part one’s eventual customers have to be extremely well heeled. The
fabrics, furniture, lighting, flooring, panelling, wallpaper and accessories on
show were generally sumptuous and gorgeous. So much so that there were actually
very few items that Rai felt she could order for her shop – although thankfully
she was pleased with the few she did encounter – because once you add her own
mark-up the price becomes prohibitively high. There are too few people in and
around provincial Ludlow who could imagine paying more than £4,000 for a single
deckchair or £25,000 for a chandelier, nor even the more accessible £2,000 for
a glass vase from Murano – let alone actually shell out for such purchases on a
rainy Tuesday afternoon.
On the second day we went to the Chelsea Harbour Design
Centre which had its very own show, tying in with Decorex event. The Design
Centre oozes urban chic as you would expect. But added to chic and some serious
creative flair was an almost chilling note of opulence.
Each beautiful shop in the three beautiful domes housing
several storeys of top brand outlets was manned by beautiful, expensive-looking
people. I couldn’t help but feel that my frayed collars had been noted in an
expert flick of the eye, the smile unchanging.
Some of these shops were deceptively huge. The Armani
display was like a many-roomed cave; there was a chocolate-rich darkness in
which every prized item was lit ingeniously; a place where even a humble glass
paperweight would set you back £350.
Close by, the Clive Christian premises offered an entire
show-home featuring a chandeliered and panelled kitchen and a hallway with a
large bar plus a bedroom with a walk in wardrobe fit for Gatsby himself. It is
easy to feel marginalised in such an environment because the overwhelming theme
is super wealth with designs that have travelled a long way beyond tacky into
the realms of a fantasy of polished granite, gilding, faux snakeskin and superb
craftsmanship. Awaiting each visitor in the inviting hallway was a mysterious
golden bag with a gold brochure and gold hardback book of selected Clive
Christian interiors. Who could resist?
But while I’d thoroughly enjoyed much of what I’d seen I was
left by both Decorex and the Design Centre with a sense of alienation. I had
been to see someone else’s world which seemed to be many moons and generations
away from reality, even of everyday London life. When Rai and I stepped out of
the Decorex show, held at Kensington Palace, to find some lunch, we were at one
point approached by old immigrant woman; twisted, tiny and pleading for money,
she was in an agony of poverty of a kind no one could alleviate. Oddly enough,
her image looms large as the themes of opulent and fabulous design fade.
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