‘Who’s it all for anyway?’, I found myself wondering as I scrolled through the tear sheets the showroom sent over. A lovely old table for £67,000, a new armchair for £18,000 plus fabric. They’re beautiful pieces, yes, but I hadn’t quite expected them to cost that much. I find myself thinking about money a lot these days. I don’t mean about my own money, though of course that crosses my mind from time to time (often). I am really thinking about my clients’ money, about how much things cost now. And about how we can create lovely interiors for people who are successful, even very successful, but who got where they are by being thoughtful about how they spend it.
I don’t know too much about my ancestors, but I suspect there were quite a few that loved a bargain. My dad’s family emigrated from eastern Germany to central Texas in the 19th century, loading up their few belongings onto a boat and heading out to the unknown. My mother’s family came over a bit further back and settled in Virginia before climbing into a covered wagon and also making their way to Texas. I assume with just what they could pack into a chest. They were, on both sides I like to think, humble people with a desire to find a new life through hard work and their own talents. And I imagine they must have been very careful with money. In the more recent past, I can look at my mother and father themselves, both very sensible with spending and, to put it mildly, often quite cheap.
I suspect frugalness tends to pass down through the generations. But if it does, my husband can confirm that I didn’t really inherit that gene. I love to splash out on something fancy from time to time (often), whether it’s corduroy walls in our flat or a piece of art that I can’t resist at auction. He might describe me as having a bit of a spending ‘problem’, but I’ve always described it differently: ‘If you want nice things, you have to buy them.’
And because of the profession I’ve chosen, I see expensive items all day long. Whether it is special wallpaper or luxurious carpets, I am constantly helping my clients buy nice things. But recently I’ve started to feel just a bit of a tug from my ancestors… ‘is this all really worth it?’
The great struggle of interior design is that it usually takes money to make something lovely. And, although it isn’t an entirely linear relationship, it is more, or less, true that the more money you have to spend, the more lovely the interior will be. Cue eye rolling here since of course this isn’t always true. It depends on what you’re trying to design and where! And, of course, there are very many designers who regularly have infinite budgets and still fail to create beautiful rooms…
I took some clients on a shopping trip around London a few weeks ago. I don’t get out nearly enough, and when a client wants to go around town and look at showrooms, I am delighted to take the opportunity. As we pottered around and looked at lighting, carpets and furniture, I was in spite of the fact I do this for a living, shocked by what things are costing these days.
In one shop, we found the holy grail of seating, a dining chair that is both beautiful and comfortable. You’d be surprised at how difficult that is to find. I asked the showroom assistant the price: ‘Oh, the chairs are just under £6,000 each, excluding the leather, which you can either supply yourself or you can choose one of ours for about £1,500 per chair depending on the choice…’
I took a breath and reminded myself not to make a face. This is a beautiful chair, an excellent piece of craftsmanship and design, but is £7,500 per chair an acceptable amount to spend? And we’d need 10 of them.
On the one hand, the answer is ‘yes!’, of course they are worth it. They are made by hand in the UK and are icons of hope for the salvation of British craftsmanship, something we all want to support. They are incredibly well made. They are beautiful. And the materials and labour to make them are all more expensive today than anyone would like. It adds up. And not to mention that interior design is a luxury business, and these are luxury items, so what’s the issue?
On the face of it, there isn’t one. But I wonder if am the only designer who has started to find it difficult to maintain a straight face while telling his clients that they should definitely buy some perfect and beautiful object for their home, in spite of the enormous cost. After all, it is all relative, right? Someone’s expensive is someone else’s cheap and cheerful. And I very much want to be designing for clients who love nice things and are willing to spend accordingly, so get on with it!
And I am constantly pushing my clients to spend more than they’re comfortable with—usually because I believe that is what the room, what the art form that is interior design, requires. All of us designers do this, though some do it better than others. I remember a story from a friend of ours who was at dinner in the formal dining room of a grand country house. An esteemed interior designer was sitting nearby talking to the owners. My friend overheard the designer: ‘What do you mean it is too expensive to hang new silk on the walls? How can that be? It can’t possibly cost more than £30 or £40 thousand. Only the price of a small motor car… Are you telling me you cannot afford a small motor car?’
It's exactly that kind of sales pitch that I often find difficult. On the one hand, I absolutely believe that we must open up the budget enough to find the creative freedom to craft a beautiful room. And I think that a room in which every decision is value engineered is doomed to be mediocre. But on the other hand, I hear the voices of my frugal ancestors saying ‘but surely you can do it for less…’. And that leaves me in a bind, because what clients need most, besides great design ideas, is encouragement, pushing even, to get over the sticker shock and prioritise beauty over cost. And after all, a good salesman would never show doubt in the price he’s asking for his wares...
Plenty in our field will say ‘oh, but the very best interiors aren’t designed at all. They come together naturally over time. And so, money isn’t at all the point. In fact it’s often antithetical to a beautiful interior.’ Okay, fine… that works for your rustic farmer’s cottage or your ancient adobe hut in the desert, furnished with a few sticks of wobbly furniture. And I love those interiors. I’d gladly spend my time helping to create them. But very few people really live like that, and those that do aren’t hiring designers to help them (perhaps because they don’t have any money). And more likely, many interiors that appear accidental and inexpensive are, in fact, intentional and very expensive creations designed to look like the opposite.
So for those of us working with real people in the real world, it is, unfortunately, all about the money. And after the past few years of inflation, and the increasing globalisation of the marketplace for products, the money has become quite eye-watering.
I remember the term ‘elasticity of demand’ from an economics seminar I took in university. It seems that demand for luxury home furnishings and finishes in the face of rising prices might illustrate the concept, and I worry slightly that we, in the design world, are on a path that can really only lead to a slowdown. Things cost too much, people’s wages aren’t rising fast enough, the global wealthy have a hunch about when to take their foot off the accelerator of their spending, and, of course, tariffs. All a bit worrisome. But clearly I, a humble non-economist, have no idea where it will all lead.
Whatever happens, I hope that people will continue to see the value in lovely objects and interiors, the value of beauty in spite of its cost. That those who have enough money will always remember that there is no more important psychic luxury than having a home that is comfortable and beautiful. I genuinely believe that and think it comes from the core of our nature as humans. And I know that in that respect, those expensive dining chairs are worth every penny, because they have the capacity to bring joy and satisfaction in the way a small motor car never could.
