Why do we keep spare bedrooms? In theory), it’s for our beloved guests. A gesture of hospitality, a soft bed for friends and family, so no one ends up sleeping on the sofa, or worse, in bed with you. In the countryside, they’re essential: when friends and family travel hours to visit, it’s only fair to offer them proper bread and board. But in London? The spare bedroom often becomes something far less romantic: a glorified cupboard, a holding pen for clutter, or an expensive shrine to hypothetical houseguests. I should know—I maintained one for exactly two visits in twelve months.
After my last housemate flew the nest, I too fell victim to the idea of the spare bedroom. I kept the double bed beautifully made at all times, because who knew who might need it, and when. Well, I will tell you who, and when. One inebriated dinner guest, who, after one too many of my admittedly generous sized martinis, could not be trusted to find the front door, let alone their way home. The other was my sister who stayed for exactly 24 hours over the festive period, as she does every Christmas. That was the sum total of my houseguests in one whole calendar year. I maintained a bedroom in my dollhouse of a London home to be slept in exactly twice. In terms of cost per use, it was the most expensive room in my house!
So, I started using it, essentially, as storage. It was small things at first. Winter jackets would get dumped onto the bed, piles of books on the floor, homeless trinkets and unwanted gifts all piled up in the corners. Before long the spare room became a dumping ground for anything and everything, a dusty graveyard for our relegated belongings. It was a sad, forgotten, neglected room in a house where really, every square meter counts. I began to notice that many of my friends were also victims of keeping a ‘spare bedroom’ for guests that never came. The door to which was always quickly shut with utterings of “‘Oh God don’t look in there, it’s a mess!” on the pre-dinner house tour (oh come on, who doesn’t love a nosy!). I began noticing that people complaining about wanting more space, often had more space. It was just not space that they actually used. They had a ‘spare room’, and the more I thought of it, the more it confused me. Surely a ‘spare room’ was like the idea of ‘spare money,' something you did not necessarily have spare of, just more of.
One morning, after squabbling with my partner over the unfair allocation of wardrobe space (he was unreasonably complaining that the three hangers and half a drawer dedicated to him was not sufficient), I found myself finishing a Zoom call perched on a pile of coats in the 'spare room' with the door closed to muffle our cats’ operatic duet. I decided then: enough was enough. We needed that space, my hypothetical guests did not. I called up Benedict Foley, my long term, and longer suffering collaborator, to make sure I had not completely lost the plot (a phone call he receives with alarming regularity), and got to work. The first step was getting rid of the bed, which went to my sister, which seeing as she was basically the only person to actually use it, made complete sense. The second, was to sit in the now empty room, and decide exactly the best way to use it. I had cleared the space, it was now time to really maximise it. Like most ‘spare rooms’ in London, it wasn’t a biggie, so I knew that to get the most out of it, I needed to be smart.
When designing a room, it is important to focus on what you will actually predominantly use it for. If I was going to commit to the effort, and expense of redoing this room, it had to be worth it.
We, as a couple, needed somewhere to get dressed and store clothes, and I, as moi, needed somewhere to work. So it was to be a dressing room cum office.
We have an open bedroom door policy, predominantly for the cats (I know don’t judge!), and seeing as the two rooms are next door to each other, I felt the new space should reflect elements of my bedroom, but not mirror it. So up went the tented Farrow and Ball wallpaper I have in my bedroom, but in a different colour way. I toyed with the idea of fitted wardrobes for the alcoves, but after balking at the price, I decided that I could achieve a similar sort of effect with my trusty paintbrush, painting them and the chest of drawers that was previously there, in a seriously high gloss. None of the upstairs rooms in my house have any sort of cornicing, and personally, I prefer wallpaper to hit something before the ceiling, but rather than install some sort of reproduction cornicing, I went to trusty Wickes and got some cheap moulding, which was then painted, and provided the same sort of effect. The bones of the room were done, now the fun could begin. I knew I wanted some form of seating area, somewhere we could curl up with a book, or fling ourselves down on when faced with the horrors of the world, but I also knew I did not want it to take up too much space. It also needed to be fabulous.
So small, comfortable and fabulous. Quite a tall order for what needed to be a very small sofa. I pored through countless catalogues and websites, before deciding to take matters into my own hands, and approached Boura & White about doing something a little bit different. Adapting one of their existing designs, I worked with the lovely Katie and Abi on creating the perfect little sofa that, by attaching a matching ottoman to the end, became the size of a single bed. Perfect for those post lunch passouts.
So far, so functional. I now needed a sprinkle of the fantabulous.
I have always been obsessed with sofa canopies. They are a triumph of form over function and I knew that installing one in a Victorian workman's cottage would be totally absurd, and therefore, essential. There was only one person I trusted to bring my vision for the canopy to life and that was, of course, Benedict. With his incomparable eye for design, and a few questionable WhatsApp sketches from me, Benedict brought the canopy to life, creating the masterpiece you see here. When it came to the fabric, there was no question: it had to be ‘The Ivy Trellis’ from Nuthall Temple Collection, his joint venture with Daniel Slowik. I have adored that fabric ever since Benedict first showed it to me months ago. It feels contemporary whilst being rooted in the traditional, playful but impeccably designed, and to top it all off, is hand screen printed here in the UK. As with everything Benedict and Daniel do, it feels completely timeless. Which is exactly what you should be looking for when adding things to your home. Pieces and designs that will last. It’s a fabric that brings me so much joy, and I was thrilled that we were able to use it in such a fun and playful way.
Next I needed a desk, and a desk that could double as another chest of drawers. Knowing that the sofa and its canopy were going to be chorus girl level camp, I decided that I wanted my work area to carry a bit of weight. The seating area was The Showgirl, I was now on the hunt for The Prince. I spent weeks trawling auction houses for a Georgian writing bureau that wasn't bank breakingly expensive (thank you Instagram friends for all your help with that), until I found one that ticked all the right boxes. It was in need of some love, and I ended up buying it through my cousin Ben Taplin, who sells and restores antique furniture. I am guilty of anthropomorphising
my belongings, and for me, my desk is the perfect English gentleman, elegant with a backbone of non-toxic masculinity. Lest that side of the room become too butch, I decided to crown the desk with a phenomenal antique Venetian mirror, gifted from a friend, who in a full circle moment, originally bought it from Benedict. It sits beautifully across from a Victorian mason jar lamp I sourced from Adam Bentley Antiques, which is topped with my Valentines day present this year, a Pentreath & Hall lampshade.
As we hung up the last of the art the doubts set in. Had I made a huge mistake? Was I decreasing the value of my house by reducing the amount of bedrooms? What if a desperate friend needed somewhere to stay? I reminded myself however, that although lovely in theory, in practice, who on earth really does want houseguests in London? Who needs to navigate the hellscape of bumping into each other in the shared bathroom post sleep and pre-coffee? Moreover it dawned on me that if for some horrifying reason I had to host someone overnight, two of my sofas are in fact, that triumph of modern engineering, The Sofa Bed. Both of which are perfectly sufficient for a one night wonder. As for decreasing the value of the house, I realised that I was being ridiculous to limit my present comfort by worrying about the future. I needed to be able to fully enjoy my house right now, the future hypothetical sale could wait. The ‘spare room’ has been transformed from the forgotten extra into the star of the show. I now use it every single day, and as I sat writing this, at my beautiful desk, I remembered that actually, it’s ok to be a little bit selfish. To think about what you need, rather than worrying about other people. I have no regrets about transforming this space into a room that not only do I absolutely adore, but actually use, and if you find yourself in the same boat, stuck with a ‘spare room’, but wishing you had space for a home gym / office / art studio / nursery, then I really recommend you do the same. As for my sister's annual Christmas visit, the sofa bed will be just fine, and if she kicks up a fuss, there is always a hotel!
