Old & New
I’ve just come back from my sister’s wedding in Italy, and somewhere between the ceremony, the dancing and rather a lot of very late nights, I started thinking about old and new. Weddings are rather wonderful examples of the two coming together. Small children running around, grandparents, young adults just starting out in life, couples beginning families, pregnant women, breastfeeding mothers, 80-year-olds dancing with 20-year-olds. The people who have known you all your life alongside the people who have only just met. And, inevitably, the people who are no longer there too. The wedding was held in Tuscany, the land of ancient history, medieval architecture and Renaissance art. It was here that these two young people chose to say their vows under the shadow of the elegant La Pescaia Resort, a handsome 19th century farmhouse on an ancient road between Rome and Sienna. My sister walked down the aisle to Friends by Francis and the Lights. Very modern, slightly electronic music which, at first, seemed almost incongruous in this old Tuscan setting but as I watched her coming towards us, it actually felt completely right. Here were two young people bringing their own energy, their own music and their own moment into this historical place that has seen generations come and go before them. Because life moves forward and we have to embrace the new whilst also honouring the past. And I think our homes need to do this too. It’s how we make new houses feel characterful and full of personality, and old houses comfortable, usable and relevant to the way we live now. In a new house, we might soften the edges with antiques, reclaimed flooring, old textiles and pieces that already carry a little patina. We add texture and layers and things that have lived another life before arriving with us. And in old houses we do almost the opposite. We add WiFi and dishwashers. Modern kitchens and bathrooms. Great big squishy sofas (antique sofas weren’t designed for watching television. They were designed for people sitting bolt upright, most probably whilst wearing a corset.) and this mix of old and new is the essence of life… we honour the past and embrace the new… I always think that we don’t really have much that’s new in our own home. We love vintage and antique things. I’ve always fantasised about time travelling (a perhaps an essay for another week) and I love the history that old things bring into a room. But then I looked again and on a little tour around my home I realised that of course my home is full of new things mixed in with the old, the ancient and the now. First we have the modern conveniences- dishwashers, cookers, fridges and then there are the modern sofas that sit alongside antique armchairs recovered in antique linen but made into newly sewn loose covers, then there’s the television, the laptops, modern cutlery in the same drawers with antique bone handled knives, everyday new china,on the shelf with vintage china, modern Duralex glasses sitting alongside 19th-century hand-blown wine glasses, 1940s aluminium chairs made from old aircraft after the war, paintings by my father in the 1970s, now sitting in antique gilt frames. The clothes in our wardrobes, a mix of high-street and thrift store purchases… the shampoo bottles in the shower sitting on an antique French ceramic hanging shelf Then there’s what I like to call the vintage modern things. 1930s industrial factory lights, our 1960s swivel chairs in the snug (upholstered in antique linen that I dyed sky blue) and the original 1950s fridge full of beer and wine (I have never come across another fridge that keeps drink so perfectly cold). I love the stories and passed lives these old things hold and I think that add romance and mystery to all the new stuff. I like to imagine who sat at a table 150 years ago, who else has looked in that mirror and what rooms and lives has it witnessed in its reflection over 200 years? Whose feet walked across our reclaimed floorboards before ours? And then there are the things whose stories I do know. Anyone who has followed me for a while will probably know about some of the collections I inherited from my Uncle Gavin, but I also have things from my father’s mother and heirlooms from other beloved relatives and ancestors. These are different somehow, because the history isn’t imagined. They come with people and memories attached. My mother recently passed on to me a beautiful Chinese lacquered sewing box that belonged to my great-grandmother. It’s slightly worn on top because at some point she tried to polish it and accidentally rubbed away some of the decoration. Apparently, she was devastated, but I love it all the more for that. Of course, the funny thing is that all of these things were new once. The factory lights, the fridge, the swivel chairs, were all modern objects in their own time. All these items have stories and hold memories even if we don’t know who their original owners are. There is a portrait hanging in our sitting room. A black and white photograph of a young soldier in uniform from the Second World War. Actually I have absolutely no idea who he is. Many years ago, I bought the vintage mirrored frame on eBay and his portrait came with it. I fully intended to take him out and replace him with a photograph of someone from our own family, but when it came to it, I couldn’t do it. I felt a kind of pang of hesitation. This young man was somebody’s son, perhaps somebody’s brother, lover or best friend. Someone once knew exactly who he was. So, he stayed and to me he is the unknown soldier and he represents all those unknown people who have touched and used and looked at the old things in our home before us. All those lives that somehow remain attached to the objects they left behind. He now hangs amongst our own family photographs, a bit strange, perhaps but he’s part of the family now. I think that is what I was feeling at my sister’s wedding. There I was, talking to people I had never met before and missing the people who were no longer with us. Watching the old dance with the young in a 19th-century farmhouse, in an ancient Tuscan landscape, surrounded by centuries of history, while two young people at the beginning of their married life brought their own music, friends and energy into it. This is what our homes should feel like too. Not preserved in the past and not slaves to the pursuit of the new, but places where different times can coexist. Where the things we inherit and the things we choose now, sit naturally alongside one another. Where we honour what came before while making room for what comes next and actually what we think of as old and new is constantly shifting as life moves forward. |
One Calm Moment If this has made you think differently about spaces and the moments in between, One Calm Moment takes the idea a step further. It’s my guide to noticing what you already have and creating small moments of beauty around your home. Not by redecorating or buying more, but simply by looking at things differently.
It’s 24 pages exploring my method for creating small moments of beauty from what you already have. One Calm Moment — £20
If today’s essay resonated with you, I’d love you to join me for Weekend Postcard. Every Saturday I send paid subscribers a more personal note from my week — things I’ve noticed, places I’ve been, things I’ve found and loved, and whatever has been occupying my thoughts. Less of an essay, more of a letter. I’d love you to join me. |
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