With fall already upon us and the nights quickly drawing in, it’s the time of year when we start to plan our winter outfits. And I have to confess, I absolutely love it. By now, I’m counting down the days for the clocks to go back, longing for that first chill in the air so I can slip into my oversized camo jacket and throw on my favorite baker-boy cap, already shaking out my ravaged moth-eaten woolens and dusting off my trusty leather pants. But a change in season can inspire change in our homes as well as our personal style. Yes, after months spent outside, it’s time to turn our attention to what’s happening inside. And to my mind, there’s no greater way of sprucing up a room or showcasing your design flair than with a bit of good old-fashioned window dressing—or what we in the business like to call “doing a window treatment.”
Being a relatively new kid on the interior decorator block, I have no shame in admitting that I m still learning on the job—a.k.a. I’m often winging it. But I like to think I know a good thing when I see it. (For someone who’s had a nicotine-stained piece of muslin nailed to a window frame as his sitting room window treatment for the last 10 years, I’ve come a long way: It’s now hung on a curtain pole.)
All jokes aside, the art of dressing windows is a serious business, and with so many potential options out there, it’s easy to feel overwhelmed. You only have to look to the great interior decorators, such as John Fowler, Andrée Putman, and my personal favorite, John Stefanidis, to see how imaginatively and artistically they used fabrics, creating the most exquisite curtains that wouldn’t look out of place at a Paris couture show—and making my muslin sitting room curtain look like a piece of old toilet paper. I
f you’re seeking inspiration, look no further than John Stefanidis’s long-awaited monograph, A Designer’s Eye, recently published by Rizzoli and full of delicious inspiration and endless ideas not just for your windows but your entire home. Of course, it does help a little to be a superstar interior decorator when it comes to sourcing the very best fabrics—but you don’t have to be one to create something spectacular, or even simple and elegant (which, believe me, is sometimes just as much work). All you need is a bit of imagination, and to carry on reading my column.
Layering is arguably one of the most important words in any decorator’s vocabulary, and nowhere is it more important than in the art of curtain making, as I’ve discovered whilst working on my latest projects. Within the world of drapery, layering is when you build up fabrics to create depth and texture—and there truly are so many things to consider. To be brutally honest, it’s highly unlikely you will ever find a pair of off-the-peg curtains that fit just right, so I would always advise getting something made to measure. Sounds expensive? Well, I won’t lie to you, it certainly can be. A friend of mine who is a long-serving interior decorator says his clients spend upwards of $100,000 on each window, which of course includes swags and tails and handwoven silk with all the trimmings. But for us mere commoners, there are still plenty of modest and affordable options out there.
The first question to consider is: What do you really need from your curtains? Are they merely decorative, or do they need to serve a purpose, whether to block out the light or a chilly draught? This will, of course, inform how they are made—whether they need lining, and the weight of the fabric, for example. But let’s start with the former, purely decorative camp. Here, you have carte blanche to do what you want, but I have to say my preference is always for something more simple; medieval even. In essence, a panel of fabric with hooks and rings on a pole. Sounds straightforward? It took me months to figure out this window treatment for my latest project.
The client wanted something that gave a little privacy, and I wanted to introduce some fabulous fabric into the room; the windows in question were floor-to-ceiling, late Georgian box frames with shutters. Eventually, I struck gold and found the most beautiful pair of Art Deco woven curtains whilst on a buying trip at Paul Reeves’s home in Malmesbury, England, which also doubles as his showroom. Reeves happens to be an authority on historic textiles: his specialty is Arts and Crafts, but his collection covers almost everything. (Textile dealers are the ideal places to buy from if you’re looking for something a little bit special, and are easy to find online—or still sometimes in the directories of magazines like The World Of Interiors.) We added a border in a rusty gold fabric which caught the light beautifully and left them unlined, giving the whole effect a lighter, laid-back feel. Once you’ve found your fabric, you don’t need a specialist curtain maker to transform them into drapes, as most seamstresses will be able to knock up a curtain or two. I did have a bespoke curtain rail made, but for buy-now poles, curtain rings, and finials I like Jim Lawrence, especially their twisted beeswax curtain hooks.
For something draft- and light-proof, however, you will almost definitely need to get it custom-made. Personally, I love a really thick, heavy curtain that drags on the floor ever so slightly. Everyone has their own preference and frankly, there is so much snobbery around how a curtain should hang, so I say go with whatever floats your boat. Recently, I created a double-facing entrance curtain for a restaurant project, Bistro Freddie in Shoreditch, London, and even designed my very first fabric: the “Razor Wiggle,” for which I screen-printed heavyweight Irish linen in three colors. (I’m sorry, but what’s the point in having a column if you can’t plug your own fabric?) To give it a feeling of fullness, I had it lined with mixed wool cotton interlining that can be bought online from places like J A Milton Upholstery. A little tip for the optimum hang: sew a few weights into the hem at the bottom of your curtains.
As you know by now, however, I am always down for a cheap and cheerful do-it-yourself solution. And when the purse strings are tight, I always turn to good old faithful cheap and cheerful calico. You can do so much with it, and my absolute pride and joy, of course, are the painted calico curtains that surround my bed: Super effective, very cozy, and probably my most photographed work to date. To make them, I simply painted lengths of calico and staple-gunned them wet and slightly gathered to a wooden batten that I had placed on the alcove around my bed. For the curtains themselves, I literally stuck some calico to some ghastly charity shop curtains and painted them to match. When the curtains are drawn across the window it looks like one big drape wrapping around three sides of the mattress, sort of like a Breton box bed.
Painting calico and sticking it down with glue might not sound terribly sophisticated, but frankly, who cares? There really are no rules to the “art” of dressing a window, and thank goodness—otherwise, I’d be out of a job.
