On a sweltering afternoon recently, I stepped into Apsley House, drawn by the promise of beauty and the hope of a little relief from the summer heat. Climbing the grand spiral staircase that curls around Antonio Canova’s statue of Napoleon, I entered what must be one of the most satisfying period interiors in London: the Striped Drawing Room.
The room is densely hung with beautiful paintings, but what stayed with me was the striped fabric that gives it its name. It runs across the walls and continues over a gloriously upholstered banquette. It was so good I wished I could take it home. I left wanting to know more about this ever-appealing pattern, and so began a conversation with designers and fabric makers about where its charm comes from and how to use it at home.
For the history geeks among us, stripes have a surprisingly murky past, at least in the Western world. In the 13th century, when a group of Carmelite monks adopted striped habits in honour of the prophet Elijah, the reaction was fierce. No fewer than eleven popes tried to suppress the choice until Boniface VIII issued a ban on stripes across all religious orders.
The association with shame lingered for centuries, with prostitutes, prisoners and other outcasts wearing them as visible signs of their status. By the 1920s, though, a new sense of freedom changed how people lived, dressed and decorated their homes, and stripes began to lose their stigma.
The story goes that Coco Chanel, while holidaying on the French Riviera, was taken with sailors’ striped jerseys and began adapting the pattern into her own modern designs. Still, the original fashion forecast might belong to Queen Victoria, who in 1846 had young Prince Albert Edward painted in a charming blue-and-white stripy sailor outfit, sparking a craze among the upper crust of British society.
‘Stripes have such a rich history, and they’ve always been used to say something,’ says photographer and fabric designer Louisa Tratalos, founder of Colours of Arley. ‘Think of a zebra crossing, or the red and white aprons worn by butchers to signal hygiene.’
Her East London studio produces bespoke striped fabrics for curtains, headboards, upholstery and cushions, all made from recycled polyester. The idea came about almost by chance. ‘I was trying to find the perfect stripe to upholster a little throne for my rehomed dog, Patch, but I couldn’t find what I had in mind. I started searching online and got completely soaked in the history of stripes.’
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At the time, Louisa had been photographing women in their homes and began to see how much stripes in these interiors could be repositories of memory. ‘What I love is storytelling. We always start with something personal — a school uniform, a flower outside the window, your grandmother’s sofa. Stripes carry meaning. They last. They’re the opposite of buying something new and chucking it out the next season.’
Others have taken stripes into their own hands, quite literally, and we're seeing more and more stripes featuring in fabric collections these days. Interior designer Octavia Dickinson created her own, ‘Cassius’, from a scrap of antique silk. ‘I always wanted to do an antique-style multi-coloured stripe,’ she says. ‘The idea was for it to look old, like it had been on the upholstered item forever.’ She calls it ‘quite masculine and muted’, which makes it work in boot and utility rooms, dining rooms and studies. ‘But also it’s a lot of fun on a playroom sofa, or curtains anywhere in a house.’
Used with a touch of imagination, stripes can introduce a playful element even to the most practical corners. ‘I have always loved being surprised when opening something up and the inside being over-decorated and luxurious,’ Dickinson says. ‘So I love the idea of a cupboard lined top to toe in a stripe.’ She’s also used them on ceilings, draped in a way that evokes Napoleonic campaign tents, where the effect becomes, in her words, ‘extreme exuberance and fun’.
That blend of liveliness and order is what keeps designers returning to stripes. ‘They have a timeless charm,’ says Elizabeth Downing, co-founder of Blithfield. ‘Stripes have been used in interiors for centuries and yet always manage to feel fresh. There’s something inherently pleasing about their order and simplicity — they bring a gentle structure to a space without ever overwhelming it.’
Their rhythm and scale make them highly adaptable. ‘They sit beautifully alongside florals, geometrics and plains, making them incredibly useful when building a layered scheme,’ Downing continues. ‘The right stripe can bring balance, movement or a hint of playfulness… They offer a sense of quiet confidence that never dates.’
At Robert Kime, stripes speak of travel as much as tradition. ‘Stripes are heritage patterns in many Eastern and Mediterranean countries — in fact, all over the world,’ says Orlando Atty, the studio’s Managing and Creative Director. ‘They bring a sense of interest to interiors that draw on different places and periods, as so many British ones do.’ That quiet complexity is part of the appeal. ‘We frequently use them in decoration because they can behave almost like a plain. In a room full of patterns, striped fabrics offer a rhythmic sensibility,’ Atty explains.
Many of the studio’s own striped fabrics come with a twist. ‘Some are woven, some printed, but rarely do they follow the classic idea of a stripe. They might be random, like ‘Hishi’, or embedded in a larger design, like ‘Marna Pine’. Others, like ‘Chenille Stripe’, run horizontally, or build a pattern within the stripe itself, like ‘Algiers Border’. Each has a graphic quality that feels quietly unexpected.’
Designer Laura Stephens often turns to striped rugs for that very reason. ‘Stripes add a whole new dimension to a room,’ she says. ‘I find a bold stripe on the floor incredibly grounding — it gives the space a strong sense of structure and purpose, which allows other elements like artwork, upholstery or wallpaper to really sing.’ In her recent collaboration with Bombay Sprout, she experimented with colour and rhythm to shape the mood of a room.
‘Getting the colour combinations right was absolutely key,’ Stephens says. ‘I wanted the rugs to feel bold and joyful, but also incredibly usable — something that could slot seamlessly into an existing scheme or inspire a new one.’ Her favourite, Saffron and Berry, pairs deep berry with warm mustard. ‘It feels both vibrant and lived-in.’
She adds that scale is just as important as colour. ‘We worked carefully on the stripe scale and rhythm so that each rug felt considered — not too busy, not too stark — just enough to add movement and depth underfoot.’
Decorator and textile designer Flora Soames sees stripes as uniquely dependable. ‘A stripe serves a very specific purpose, believe it or not! When you don’t need (or want) a pattern, and a plain is not enough — a stripe gives structure and form.’ Whether joyful or refined, it’s a tool she returns to time and again. ‘There’s something youthful about a red and white stripe — always uplifting, think circus tent. But it can be tailored and chic too. I have a go-to black and white stripe which is serious enough, and a much-needed pause in a full-on blousy scheme.’
Her ‘Pavilion’ collection was shaped by that duality — a longing for something English with a splash of Slim Aarons glamour. ‘The ‘Plain Stripe’ — which we use indoors and out — is exactly that, in an array of colours that blend in and/or leap out.’ One bathroom she decorated was inspired by the Land Gardeners. ‘It’s green and white, tacked up beneath the cornice with a rough-cut, unhemmed bottom edge. It complements a simple glazed tiled wall, and feels theatrical, impactful and deeply inviting. Modern yet old-fashioned — you could be in a Sicilian palazzo rather than a Palladian house in North Norfolk.’
But her final word is the most persuasive of all. ‘I mean, how can you go wrong with ticking? Never have I decorated a house not with a stripe. Do I need to say more?’
