Residents of Dalston will be happy to know that the stately chintz patterns that come to mind when they think of Dalston have at last given their name to a new floral print for curtains, lampshades and duvet covers: Dalston Rose from the new home furnishings company House of Hackney.
We jest, we jeer (and did they double that image to make Hackney houses seem larger?), but bone china, dressing screens and conversation chairs go a long way — think of days of people entertaining, mise-en-scenes put together specifically for hospitality. And the romance of moody, darkened rooms, as detailed in this gratuitous but wonderful Proust obversation:
“I should have liked to be able to pass the rest of the day with one of those women, over a cup of tea, in a little house with dark-painted walls (as Mme. Swann’s were still in the year after that in which the first part of this story ends) against which would glow the orange flame, the red combustion, the pink and white flickering of her chrysanthemums in the twilight of a November evening, in moments similar to those in which (as we shall see) I had not managed to discover the pleasures for which I longed. But now, albeit they had led to nothing, those moments struck me as having been charming enough in themselves. I sought to find them again as I remembered them. Alas! there was nothing now but flats decorated in the Louis XVI style, all white paint, with hortensias in blue enamel.”
Let the summer ride itself out, perhaps, and in November let’s paper the walls (this’ll do) and go back to bed.