Cavendish Mews is a smart set of flats in Mayfair where flapper and modern woman, the Honourable Lettice Chetwynd has set up home after coming of age and gaining her allowance. To supplement her already generous allowance, and to break away from dependence upon her family, Lettice has established herself as a society interior designer, so her flat is decorated with a mixture of elegant antique Georgian pieces and modern Art Deco furnishings, using it as a showroom for what she can offer to her well heeled clients.
Today however we are at Glynes, the grand Georgian family seat of the Chetwynds in Wiltshire, and the home of Lettice’s parents, the presiding Viscount and Countess of Wrexham and the heir, their eldest son Leslie and his wife Arabella. Lettice is visiting her family home to broach a most delicate subject about her forthcoming wedding.
For nearly a year Lettice had been patiently awaiting the return of her then beau, Selwyn Spencely, son of the Duke of Walmsford, after being sent to Durban by his mother, Lady Zinnia in an effort to destroy their relationship which she wanted to end so that she could marry Selwyn off to his cousin, Pamela Fox-Chavers. Having been made aware by Lady Zinnia in October that during the course of the year, whilst Lettice had been biding her time, waiting for Selwyn’s eventual return, he had become engaged to the daughter of a Kenyan diamond mine owner whilst in Durban. Fleeing Lady Zinnia’s Park Lane mansion, Lettice returned to Cavendish Mews and milled over her options over a week as she reeled from the news. Then, after that week, she knew exactly what to do to resolve the issues raised by Lady Zinnia’s unwelcome news about her son. Taking extra care in her dress, she took herself off to the neighbouring upper-class London suburb of Belgravia and paid a call upon Sir John Nettleford-Hughes.
Old enough to be her father, wealthy Sir John is still a bachelor, and according to London society gossip intends to remain so, so that he might continue to enjoy his dalliances with a string of pretty chorus girls of Lettice’s age and younger. As an eligible man in a aftermath of the Great War when such men are a rare commodity, with a vast family estate in Bedfordshire, houses in Mayfair, Belgravia and Pimlico and Fontengil Park in Wiltshire, quite close to the Glynes estate belonging to her parents, Lettice’s mother, Lady Sadie, invited him as a potential suitor to her 1922 Hunt Ball, which she used as a marriage market for Lettice. Selwyn rescued Lettice from the horror of having to entertain him, and Sir John left the ball early in a disgruntled mood with a much younger partygoer. Lettice recently reacquainted herself with Sir John at an amusing Friday to Monday long weekend party held by Sir John and Lady Gladys Caxton at their Scottish country estate, Gossington, a baronial Art and Crafts castle near the hamlet of Kershopefoot in Cumberland. To her surprise, Lettice found Sir John’s company rather enjoyable. She then ran into him again at the Portland Gallery’s autumn show where she found him yet again to be a pleasant and attentive companion for much of the evening.
Sir John also made a proposition to her that night: he offered her his hand in marriage should she ever need it. More like a business arrangement than a marriage proposal, Sir John offered Lettice the opportunity to enjoy the benefits of his large fortune, be chatelain of all his estates and continue to have her interior design business, under the conditions that she agree to provide him with an heir, and that he be allowed to discreetly carry on his affairs in spite of their marriage vows. He even suggested that Lettice might be afforded the opportunity to have her own extra marital liaisons if she were discreet about them. Turning up unannounced on his doorstep, she agreed to his proposal after explaining that the understanding between she and Selwyn was concluded. However, in an effort to be discreet, at Lettice’s insistence, they did not make their engagement public until the new year: after the dust about Selwyn’s break of his and Lettice’s engagement settled. Sir John motored across from Fontengil Park in the days following New Year and he and Lettice announced their engagement in the palatial Glynes drawing room before the Viscount and Lady Sadie the Countess, Leslie, Arabella and the Viscount’s sister Eglantyne (known by all the Chetwynd children affectionally as Aunt Egg). The announcement received somewhat awkwardly by the Viscount initially, until Lettice assured him that her choice to marry Sir John has nothing to do with undue influence, mistaken motivations, but perhaps the person most put out by the news is Aunt Egg who is not a great believer in the institution of marriage, and feels Lettice was perfectly fine as a modern unmarried woman. Lady Sadie, who Lettice thought would be thrilled by the announcement of her engagement, received the news with a somewhat muted response and she discreetly slipped away after drinking a toast to the newly engaged couple with a glass of fine champagne from the Glynes wine cellar.
Today we find ourselves in the Glynes flower room, a small room that Lady Sadie uses to arrange flowers for the house. The room is used to houses many different vases on shelves for every possible type of flower provided by the Glynes gardeners. There is a butler’s sink for Lady Sadie to stand at with wooden surfaces to either side of the deep enamelled trough. And now, with the benches covered in spring flowers freshly gathered that morning for her, Lady Sadie enjoys the pleasurable pastime of arranging them in a selection of vases she has taken down from the surrounding shelves.
Several weeks ago, when Lettice and Sir John were visiting his younger sister, Clemance Pontefract, who as a widow, has recently returned to London and set up residence in Holland Park, Lettice suggested that Clemance might help her choose her trousseau*. Thinking that Lady Sadie’s ideas will doubtless be somewhat old fashioned and conservative when it comes to commissioning evening dresses and her wedding frock, Lettice wants to engage Clemance’s smart eye and eager willingness to please Lettice as her future siter-in-law to help her pick the trousseau she really wants. Knowing that the subject will be difficult to discuss with her mother, Lettice is aware that this is the ideal time to approach her mother, with whom she has a somewhat fraught relationship. Thus Lettice is sitting on a small stool behind her mother, fining it easier to address her back, rather than face to face, as she toys with the pale pink glass beads around her neck.
“Now Mamma. I’ve been thinking about my trousseau.” Lettice begins.
Lady Sadie turns off the gleaming brass tap she has been using to fill a porcelain vase featuring a pastoral image painted on it with cold water. “Ahh…” she murmurs thoughtfully as she leaves the vase sitting in the bottom of the deep white enamelled sink. “Yes, I’ve been giving your trousseau some considerable thought too, Lettice.”
Lettice looks up in alarm at her mother after hearing her statement about her trousseau. “You have, Mamma?”
Lady Sadie turns away from the sink to face her daughter. “Well don’t look so surprised, Lettice!” she says with a bemused smile. “I mean, I know I might not be the most fashionable of women by the standards of London’s Bright Young People** or whatever the newspapers have christened you and your friends,” She tugs self-consciously on the pretty aquatone blue cotton summer blouse with the wide white Peter Pan collar*** she is wearing. “But I am your mother, and it is a mother’s right to help influence her daughter when choosing her trousseau.” She smiles happily as she picks up her shears. “Besides, I do have an interest in fashion you know.”
“I never said you didn’t, Mamma.” Lettice defends.
“Not that I am particularly enamoured with the fashion for raised hemlines**** this season.” Lady Sadie adds disapprovingly. “Goodness knows what The King and Queen Mary think of the débutantes being presented before them now. When they curtsey before them, just think of all those exposed knees! It’s scandalous!”
This time it is Lettice who feels self-conscious as she tugs at the flounces around the hem of her white georgette day dress that fall softly around her crossed knee. “How terribly shocking.” she mutters sarcastically.
“Oh, you’re just as bad!” Lady Sadie waves her bejewelled hand dismissively at her youngest daughter. “You and Gerald Bruton are responsible for this latest fashion for exposed knees.”
She turns back to the sink and picks up a purple foxglove in her left hand, and with her black handled shears in her left, she cuts the flower’s stem at an angle over the old newspapers she has spread out on the bench next to the sink before placing the foxglove in the vase she has just filled with water.
“I call that most unfair, Mamma!” Lettice protests, momentarily forgetting that she will need to keep her mother on side and not quarrel with her whilst she broaches the delicate subject of her trousseau. However the indignity she feels from her mother’s cutting remark makes her lash out. “You can hardly blame Gerald and me solely for the fashions of the day! I thought even you, Mamma, in your old fashioned style would realise that most of the edicts of fashion come from Paris.”
“I’m well aware of who dictates the fashion, Lettice.” Lady Sadie replies coolly as she picks up a second foxglove and shortens its stem by an inch with her shears. “But Gerald designs frocks in the style and you and your young flapper friends wear them, so you perpetuate the scandalous modes of the day.”
“Would you rather I look unfashionable, Mamma? Like Queen Mary in her pre-war ankle length gowns*****?”
“No of course not, Lettice,” Lady Sadie retorts calmly. “There’s no need to overreact and be melodramatic. But a modicum of modesty might not go astray. I myself, prefer calf length skirts.”
“Well anyway,” Lettice answers, folding her arms akimbo and changing the subject back to the one she wants to broach with her mother. “About my trousseau.”
“Oh yes! As I was saying, I’ve had some thoughts about that.”
“Good!” Lettice replies. “Because I have too…”
Lady Sadie cuts her off as she goes on. “Of course I will have my work cut out for me, organising it all,” she says with a heavy sigh as she places the trimmed foxglove into the vase. “I can’t say that I love venturing up to London – I don’t see how either you or Sir John can enjoy it enough to want to live there at least for some of the year – but I shall brave the London fashion houses for your sake.”
“Well Mamma…” Lettice begins.
“In fact, I was thinking that I could make a special trip up to London and we could visit a few select couturiers I had in mind.” Lady Sadie goes on, gazing ahead of her, her eyes narrowing and her jaw squaring as she thinks about it.
“Well, I might have a solution for you in that respect, Mamma.” Lettice says, soothingly. “Or rather John and I do.”
“What do I need a solution for, Lettice?” Lady Sadie asks uncomprehendingly, looking back over her sounder at her daughter. “I told you, I’ve already been thinking about suitable couturiers.” She adds emphasis to the last two words to add gravitas to their meaning. And I’ve made a list which I have subsequently narrowed down to about three.”
“Three, Mamma?” Lettice exclaims.
“Yes.” Lady Sadie replies with a proud smile. “That should limit the time I need to spend up in London. I’m really rather proud of my quick thinking.”
“Well, Mamma,” Lettice chuckles awkwardly. “You just said how much you despise London.”
Lady Sadie laughs in shock. “Now don’t put words in my mouth. That’s a dreadful habit you have, Lettice. I didn’t say that I ‘despise London’ – I merely said that ‘I’m not fond of it’.”
“Well, John has a widowed younger sister, Clemance Pontefract, who lived abroad with her husband, but returned to London when he died.”
“How very interesting, dear.” Lady Sadie replies as she busies herself trimming excess greenery off another foxglove with the dexterity of a skilled floral arranger, her tone indicating that she is anything but interested in Clemance’s existence.
Lettice huffs lightly, but labours on. “Clemance spent many years living in Paris before the war, Mamma. She’s very smart and select, and she knows all there is to know about clothes. I think she is a little lonely now that she is back in London, living in Holland Park as a widow.”
“Then Mrs. Pontefract should go back to Paris, if she dislikes it so much here, and rejoin all her friends there.” Lady Sadie counters.
“I don’t think it’s quite that simple, Mamma. Besides, I think Paris has changed…”
“Oh, it certainly has!” Lady Sadie opines haughtily with a derisive snort, slicing off the bottom of the foxglove’s stem. “And not for the better, I must say!”
“Be that as it may, it is the centre of fashion, and I thought,” Lettice tries again a little awkwardly.
“Yes?” Lady Sadie snaps.
“That is, John and I thought, that as Clemance is lonely here in London, and because she does know a great deal about fashion…”
“Yes?”
“That she would be more than willing to help me pick my trousseau up in London.” Lettice finishes. “In fact, we thought she would be perfect to help me. That way, you wouldn’t have to trouble yourself about it, or have to come up to London when you obviously don’t want to.”
“Are you suggesting that this Mrs. Pontefract would usurp me, Lettice?” Lady Sadie gasps with a mixture of hurt and surprise. “That she take my place in helping you shop for your trousseau?”
Lettice quickly realises that the suggestion she was making, a suggestion which she thought would be one her mother would only be too happy to agree to, is in fact one she finds most unpalatable.
“Do you think that because of my preference for the country, that I wouldn’t come up to London for you, Lettice?” she continues in a mortified fashion, her voice cracking with emotion. “That I wouldn’t be interested in my youngest daughter’s wedding frock and new wifely wardrobe?”
Lettice knows that a terrible scene is about to erupt between she and her mother unless she manages to salvage the situation quickly. Lady Sadie’s eyes sparkle with unshed tears as her pale face begins to contort in a mixture of disbelief and hurt. Her hand, bejewelled with sparkling diamond and gold rings rises slowly to her throat. Her lips quiver.
“No! No, no, Mamma!” Lettice insists, holding up her palms. “Of course I’m not.” She smiles at her mother comfortingly, but cannot quite bring herself to reach out and touch her on the arm. “What I meant was,” she adds, thinking quickly, wondering why she hadn’t predicted this outcome and thought of a suitable answer. “Was that, well, since you don’t come up to London very much, she might be of assistance to you… to us, I mean.”
“But if she hasn’t been in London very long, Lettice.”
“But she does know about fashion,” Lettice quickly adds. “And a second opinion is always helpful.”
“I wasn’t aware that my style was so awful that I needed a second opinion, Lettice!” Lady Sadie spits. “Or should I say a third opinion: unless of course you are proposing not to accompany me on the expedition to shop for your own trousseau,” She sniffs. “Because you are ashamed of me.”
Lettice lets out a sigh of exasperation. “Of course I’m not, Mamma!”
“Well, it certainly sounds like it.”
Lettice rolls her eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous, Mamma! John is very close to his sister, and he loves Clemance very much. She is recently returned to England and a lonely widow. I believe he feels sorry for her, and he’d really like her to be part of the wedding plans.”
“Well,” Lady Sadie replies with trembling lips again. “Can’t she arrange something else?”
“Like what, Mamma?”
“Like something that she and Sir John can do together.” She raises the index finger of her right hand as she suddenly has an idea. “She can help him shop for his wedding suit!”
“I don’t think that will be terribly adventurous or interesting for her, Mamma. John really wants us to get to know her better, and by us, I mean you as well.”
“Well I…”
“It’s not like I’m suggesting that you and I go wedding frock shopping with Margot.” Lettice implores. “Clemance is more around your age than mine.”
Lady Sadie’s eyes grow wide in shock. “Lettice!” she exclaims. “How can you be so indelicate?”
“I’m not being indelicate! I’m just stating a truth. Please Mamma! At least think about the idea.”
“Well,” Lady Sadie’s mouth puckers in distaste. “We’ll have to see about that.”
Lettice decides that a change of tack might be appropriate.
“When you say you’ve been thinking about my trousseau, Mamma, whom were you thinking of for my wedding frock?”
Going back to her flower arranging, Lady Sadie pulls out a blue iris from the wicker basket to her right and looks at it with thoughtfulness, comparing it to the hue of the foxgloves before deciding that they might go well together in the same vase.
“Mamma, did you hear me?”
“Yes, thank you. I did, Lettice.” Lady Sadie replies peevishly. “As a matter of fact, I have given it considerable thought. At first, I thought of Lucile******, as she made such a lovely wedding frock for Lally when she married Charles.”
“Oh no!” Lettice pulls a face. “Not Lucile! She so… so… old fashioned. Her dresses are so pre-war!”
“Yes.” Lady Sadie acknowledges her daughter’s concerns resignedly as she trims the iris stalk. “I thought you’d say that, Lettice. I happen to think that her dresses are romantic.”
“They’re fusty, Mamma. I don’t want to get married in a dress that is covered in flounces and silk flowers! This is 1925, not 1905!”
“Thank you Lettice,” Lady Sadie counters crisply. “I am not of infirm mind as of yet. I know perfectly well it is 1925.” She puts the iris into the vase. “And then, I realised who was the perfect choice for you.”
“Gerald!” Lettice says with a sigh of relief. “Oh Mamma! I didn’t think you’d even contemplate it!”
“Gerald?” Lady Sadie spits in horror, turning around to face her daughter, looking her up and down with wide eyes. “Of course I didn’t think of Gerald Bruton! Why on earth would I, Lettice?”
Lettice’s shoulders slump. “Well… because he is an up-and-coming designer, and he is my very best friend. Who could be more perfect?”
“You may have Gerald Bruton as a guest to the wedding, Lettice, but you certainly aren’t having him design your wedding frock, certainly not if I have anything to do with it!”
“But Mamma…” Lettice pleads.
“No!” Lady Sadie holds up her palm.
“But Mamma!”
“No!” Lady Sadie shakes her head warningly.
“He designed Bella’s wedding dress!” Lettice blurts out. “And you said she looked like a picture on her wedding day.”
“That’s true, but that was Isobel’s decision. My decision is that we will visit Madame Handley-Seymour*******.”
“But I want Ger…” Lettice begins to mewl.
“No Lettice!” Lady Sadie replies adamantly. “Let us have no further talk about Gerald Bruton making your wedding dress. Madame Handley-Seymour is one of Bond Street’s most influential couturiers and court dressmakers. Just look at that lovely wedding frock she made for your friend Elizabeth******** when she married the Duke of York.”
“But Mamma!” Lettice whines.
“If Madame Handley-Seymour is good enough for The King and Queen, the Prince and the new Duchess of York, she is certainly good enough for you!”
“Oh Mamma!” Lettice cries as tears begin to well in her eyes.
Suddenly Lettice picks herself up from her seat and runs towards the door, the tears starting to flow down her cheeks as she does. Just as she reaches it, she runs into her father, the Viscount.
“What the…” he stammers. He grabs hold of Lettice by the shoulders and sees how distressed she is. “Lettice!” he exclaims in concern as he looks down at her face. “Lettice whatever is it?”
“Oh Pappa!” is all she can reply through her tears, and then without giving any more explanation, she pulls away from her father and runs down the hall, her heels echoing hollowly as they race across the black and white linoleum.
The Viscount stands on the spot against the doorjamb, half in the Glynes flower room and half in the hallway, a stunned look on his face.
“Sadie!” he snaps as his wife turns back calmly to her flowers and picks out another blue iris from the basket. “What have you done?”
“Me Cosmo?” she replies, feigning innocence without turning to face her husband. “I’ve done nothing.”
“Well, you must have done something!” he snaps, taking several strides into the room until he is beside his wife, leaning against the wooden benchtop surrounding the sink. “I could hear your raised voices from down the hallway, which is why I cam down here to investigate.”
“I’m sorry your exploration was pointless then, my dear.” Lady Sadie replies nonchalantly as she pulls a bent bit of greenery off the iris in her hand and drops it on the newspaper to the left of her with the other refuse.
“What the blazes do you think you’re doing, upsetting our daughter like you obviously have?” the Viscount growls angrily as he attempts to catch his wife’s eye.
“What!” she answers, dropping her hands down as she speaks. “I’ll tell you what. I’ve just put an extra fly into Lettice’s ointment.”
“What the devil do you mean, Sadie?” the Viscount barks back at her. “Stop speaking in riddles, you ridiculous woman! I have no time for your foolish games today!”
“I’m not playing games, Cosmo.” she replies, finally glancing up at him. “Or rather I am, because the stakes are high. I just told Lettice that Gerald Bruton can’t design her wedding frock, and that we will go and see Madame Handley-Seymour to design it.”
“What the blazes did you do that for, you confounding woman? If she wants her frock designed by Gerald, why the devil shouldn’t she? He did a damn fine job to Arabella’s dress.”
“Because it is just something else to irk her, and make her think twice about marrying Sir John, of course.” she replies as though it is the most natural conclusion to come to. “Her unsuitable marriage will be even less attractive to her now that I’ve forbade her to have her dress made by Gerald Bruton.”
“I thought you said that we were playing the long game with all this business with Lettice and Sir John, Sadie.” the Viscount mutters as he calms down.
“I did.” Lady Sadie assures him.
“Then what?” he splutters.
“I never said that we couldn’t use some gentle persuasion along the way, Cosmo.”
“You surely don’t think that Lettice will call a halt to the wedding just because she can’t have the frock she wants, do you, you ridiculous woman?”
“I’m not a ridiculous woman,” Lady Sadie retorts. Pointing her right index finger at her husband she goes on. “You mark my words, when a girl can only get married once, her choice of wedding frock and how she looks in it on the day will be of vital consideration.” She goes back to trimming the iris before placing it in the vase. “She’ll try to talk you around to her way of thinking, Cosmo, because she has you wrapped around her little finger, but you mustn’t give in! You must stand firm, even if it means you defer back to me as the decision maker.”
“And what if the wedding goes ahead, Sadie?”
“It won’t Cosmo. I can assure you.”
“And if it does?” he persists.
“If we reach a certain point in this ridiculous engagement, I’ll recant, and Gerald can make her frock. But believe me, Cosmo, I’m already seeing doubts in her eyes when she speaks of Sir John now. She’s thinking long and hard about this decision made in haste.”
“I hope you’re right, Sadie.” the Viscount says, looking doubtfully at his wife. “And that there won’t be a wedding.”
“Trust me.” She pauses her flower arranging and reaches out and puts her right hand on his left forearm and squeezes the flesh beneath his tweed jacket. “It will not happen.”
“You’re a hard woman, Sadie.” the Viscount sighs after a few moments. “Very hard.”
“Well,” she sniffs, resuming her work. “Someone has to play the villain in this play, so it may as well be me, since you’ve always said I’ve been too hard on Lettice, and I say that you’re always too soft.” She snatches up the last iris and clips off the end of its stalk before depositing it into the vase. “She’ll forgive me in the end.”
“Well, I hope you are right about that too, Sadie.” he replies.
*A trousseau refers to the wardrobe and belongings of a bride, including her wedding dress or similar clothing such as day and evening dresses.
**The Bright Young Things, or Bright Young People, was a nickname given by the tabloid press to a group of Bohemian young aristocrats and socialites in 1920s London.
***A Peter Pan collar is a style of clothing collar, flat in design with rounded corners. It is named after the collar of Maude Adams's costume in her 1905 role as Peter Pan, although similar styles had been worn before this date. Peter Pan collars were particularly fashionable during the 1920s and 1930s.
****1925 was really the year that ladies’ fashions crossed the threshold from “old fashioned” to what is now considered “modern”. Dresses became streamlined and slender, without the excess fabric of previous years. Waistlines remained at the hip, whilst hemlines rose to the knee.
*****King George V was no fan of the modern style of ladies’ dress, and when hemlines rose from floor length to ankle length during the war, and then higher still after the war, he expressed his disapproval. Queen Mary’s official biographer James Pope-Hennessy wrote that she experimented with shorter skirts in the early 1920s but that the King didn’t approve, so she went back to the longer lengths of 1916. Her style remained, for the most part, frozen in time at that period, for the remainder of her life.
******Lucile – Lucy, Lady Duff Gordon was a leading British fashion designer in the late Nineteenth and early Twentieth Centuries who use the professional name Lucile. She was the originator of the “mannequin parade”, a pre-cursor to the modern fashion parade, and is reported to have been the person to first use the word “chic” which she then popularised. Lucile is also infamous for escaping the Titanic in a lifeboat designed for forty occupants with her husband and secretary and only nine other people aboard, seven being crew members.
*******Elizabeth Handley-Seymour (1867–1948) was a London-based fashion designer and court-dressmaker operating as Madame Handley-Seymour between 1910 and 1940. She is best known for creating the wedding dress worn by Elizabeth Bowes-Lyon, the future Queen Elizabeth The Queen Mother, for her marriage to the Duke of York, the future King George VI, in 1923; and later, Queen Elizabeth's coronation gown in 1937.
********Elizabeth Bowes Lyon went on to become Queen of the United Kingdom and the Dominions from 1936 to 1952 as the wife of King George VI. Whilst still Duke of York, Prince Albert initially proposed to Elizabeth in 1921, but she turned him down, being "afraid never, never again to be free to think, speak and act as I feel I really ought to"
This wonderful flower room full of beautiful blooms may appear real to you, however it is fashioned entirely of 1:12 miniatures from my collection.
Fun things to look for in this tableaux include:
The three glass vases: two cranberry glass and one clear glass, were made by Beautifully Handmade Miniatures in Kettering in England. The detail in each vase is especially fine. If you look closely, you will see that they are decorated with fluting, frills and latticework. The two large porcelain floral vases on the benchtops are 1950s Limoges vases. The roses and other flowers have been painted on them by hand, and they have stamped with a small green Limoges mark to the bottom. These treasures I found in an overcrowded cabinet at the Mill Markets in Geelong. The other porcelain vases with printed flowers on them come from various online miniature stockists on EBay.
The white and peach roses in the vase on the left of the photo are all handmade by Beautifully Handmade Miniatures in Kettering in England. The tulips, daffodils and foxgloves are all very realistic looking. Made of polymer clay they are moulded on wires to allow them to be shaped at will and put into individually formed floral arrangements. They are made by a 1:12 miniature specialist in Germany.
The shears with black handles open and close. Made of metal, they came from Doreen Jeffries’ Small Wonders Miniature Shop in the United Kingdom.
The Edwardian British newspapers that the vases, shears and flowers stand on are 1:12 size copies of ‘The Mirror’, the ‘Daily Express’ and ‘The Tattler’ made by Little Things Dollhouse Miniatures in Lancashire.
The ladderback chair to the left of the photo is a recent 1:12 miniature which has a hand-woven rattan seat. It was acquired from an estate of a miniature collector in Sydney and dates from around the 1970s.
The butler’s sink comes from Melody Jane’s Doll’s House Shop in the United Kingdom.
The tile frieze that appears along the back wall above the sink is an Art Nouveau design from the Lambeth works of Royal Doulton and features white Irises.
