Old roses

I don't remember how, when, or where I discovered old roses, but I suspect it was two incarnations back -- in the early 19th century, when I walked the earth as Elizabeth Bennett 

(more recently, I was Edith Wharton).

Once I entered this world, I quickly became besotted with enchantingly-named roses such as Souvenir de la Malmaison, Isfahan, Old Blush, Sombreuil, and Reine des Violettes. 

Classically gorgeous, with delicate complexions of white, cream, pink, and violet, old roses often contain scores of tightly packed petals that give them a slightly frenzied air, as if when the buds where opening they just couldn't put on the brakes. Neither could I -- every year, when 

the old rose catalogs arrived at my door, I put in an order for another eight or ten.

Who could resist? Who would want to?

I now live in a different house, with less time to garden and far fewer roses. But in May of every year, I still visit the Festival of Old Roses in El Cerrito, where local (local being a relative term here) rosarians proudly display the rare, and in some cases almost extinct, varieties of roses that have been shyly hiding in their backyards all year long.

There are literally hundreds of old roses here, mostly set out in ordinary jam jars, fluffing out their dazzling petals for all the world to see. 

Each display was more beautiful than the next, or so it seemed. And every rose reminded me of something -- in this case, a crumpled handkerchief.

Here, a chrysanthemum.

Apple blossoms!

I could not stop photographing roses. People were looking at me...who is that crazy woman with the iPhone trigger finger? Little did they know...this is one of the few events I've attended recently where I wasn't admonished not to take pictures!

So I really went to town, so to speak.

Are these not amazing?

Clearly, I'm not the only one who thinks so.

Jan Frans Eliaer painting from a museum in Antwerp

 In the 21st century, in northern California, it's not hard to see where he got his inspiration. But remember, he couldn't work from a photograph like this...

...or this...

 or this...

If you are used to modern hybrid tea roses with names like Mr. Lincoln and Doris Day, you can see how old roses are in a class by themselves. So why do we have the newer varieties? Because they bloom more often, and are more disease-resistant. They are like supermarket tomatoes, as compared to the heirlooms you get at the farmer's market. Not to knock them, they have their place.

Just not in my garden. I'll take these instead.

Or these...

Or these and these...

Fashion designers always end their shows with a wedding dress, so I think I'll end this post with a wedding bouquet. I have no idea what this rose is called, but I'm naming it "Mr. Darcy."

Or maybe it should be "Miss Bennett." What do you think?

© 2013 by A Silken Swoon. All rights reserved. All photos by Eileen of A Silken Swoon.

Mandana house tour

I am a house tour junkie. (No, really?) I get an immediate, visceral thrill when I step over the threshold of a beautiful home I've never seen before. Which is why I wait eagerly all year for the Piedmont/Oakland Kitchen and Home Tour, a can't-miss event for me and a merry band of friends who share the same addiction. 

Around 10 a.m. on a Saturday morning, we cram ourselves into the biggest car available and take off like a group of monkeys after a secret stash of bananas. Some years the tour is less than stellar. Other times it's so memorable that come Christmas, we're still reminiscing about our favorite homes over rum-soaked eggnog.  

This year's tour was a winner. Photography was not allowed in most of the homes, but the first house on the tour did not have a sign, so I snapped away with my iPhone until the decorator in the kitchen had a hissy fit.

This is not my first time in this home, and I hope it won't be my last. It's my favorite style -- a Normandy -- with big, light-filled rooms that just beg for endless parties. The house is set far back and up from the street, so the windows look out on big trees and the rooftops beyond. Just look at those Parisian-style windows! 

This house was built in 1931, but the current owners have decorated it mostly modern (well, what else is new?). But I found the juxtaposition of the older architecture and the modern furnishings to be quite charming, and there are some wonderful heirloom pieces in many rooms -- like the beveled mirror above the mantel, which is original to the house. 

And look at this--a mirror in front of a mirror! Now, that's gutsy. And gorgeous.

   

Another view of this beautiful living room, with its hand-carved, beamed ceilings, stone mantel, and pair of sumptuous wrought iron chandeliers. Okay, I would have used more antiques here, but still. I would move right in and not complain.
 

The theme of this house was "Hollywood." Everything, and I mean everything, 
was glammed up. Especially the bathrooms.

Nice way to display your necklaces!

Giacometti sculpture or Oscar statuette? Take your pick.

A charming little courtyard off the living room, looking down to the street.I wonder if the squirrels climb in here and crunch on the gravel. That could get spooky at night.

 The dining room, just waiting for the glitterati to arrive for dinner.

Note the long glass top perched over a smaller, antique table. I happen to know old breakfast tables like this one become much bigger when you slide the leaves out, but how much more interesting is this solution!

Another view of the dining room. Silk taffeta curtains -- my favorites -- dress up the windows.

 
 A small but well-appointed den is bursting with Hollywood memorabilia. The photographs of old movie stars on the bookshelves are signed originals. You'll just have to take my word for it, because I couldn't take the time to zoom in. Had to snap these photos fast.

 

A stylish, many-legged eating bar that looks as if it could walk away by itself. 
But where would it go?

Another charming courtyard, this one off the kitchen. I can see stepping out here for a gulp of fresh air while you take a break from kneading bread or stirring the pasta.

This is the first of what I believe were three bedrooms. If I remember correctly (and that's asking a lot these days), it was designed for a teen-aged girl.

What a charming nook for the chest of drawers. 
I wouldn't put a parrot and a foo dog together, but that's just me.

A pretty guest bedroom. With...a red chair! Someone read my last blog post, I guess. Love the quick sweep of red on the wall, too.

The glitzy and glorious master bedroom. It's clearly curtains for these owners -- 
most of the room is lined with them. 

A close-up of that striking vase on the nightstand next to the bed. Where does the clock radio go? And the book you're reading? Silly question, I guess. There's a beautiful garden view through that window. 

The woman of the house appears to have her own private boutique. I did not see any 50% markdowns, or I would have indulged in a new pair of shoes.

At this point, it was either put the iPhone away or get kicked out the house, so I chose the former. 

And alas, I could not get a single photo of the 13,000 square foot English manor that was built to look like Harrow, the boarding school that the original owner had attended. I can tell you that the house looks like...an English boarding school. But that's just the exterior. The current owners have made it warm and gracious inside, a place any of us would enjoy today. 

After the tour, we all agreed that the Mandana house featured here would be our first choice of a place to move to...what do you think? Can you picture your clothes in this closet?

© 2013 by A Silken Swoon. All rights reserved. All photos by Eileen of A Silken Swoon.

Fabulous Filoli, Part I

Down a long, meandering lane in Woodside, California, a magnificent country estate sits quietly amidst a forest of oak trees, like a lovely grande dame with many stories to tell.  

The name itself has a story, deriving from the credo of Mr. William Bowers Bourn, the original owner: Fight for a just cause; Love your fellow man; Live a good life. I applaud Mr. Bourn for coming up with such an original and lilting name. If you think it's easy to name an estate, just give it a try.

 


I visit Filoli at least once a year, because it has a similar effect on me as imbibing a bottle of Dom Perignon (minus the hangover). The house is serenely beautiful, the gardens otherworldly. It casts a spell, Filoli does, starting with the magnificent reflecting pool that greets you as you pass through the unassuming garden door that gives little hint of the delights within.

 
I have seen many beautiful estates and gardens in my time, but there's something about Filoli that transcends mere loveliness. The horizontal sweep of hills in the background, the  vertical cypresses, the masses of flower beds, the specimen trees -- everywhere you look there is a painting with perfect composition.

The flower beds are re-planted every season, so you never know what you're going to find. In the fall, this might be bursting with asters and dahlias. 

Bruce Porter, who helped Mr. and Mrs. Bourn plan the layout of these gardens, was a talented painter, sculptor, muralist, landscape designer, and art critic. I have no doubt he could "see" what these stately cypresses would look like against a spring sky, almost 100 years after being planted. 

Putting in a garden that will look this good a century later is a feat beyond imagining to me. But then, that's why I'm writing this blog and not designing estate gardens.

Of course, Filoli has a conservatory, a separate outbuilding constructed of the same red brick as the main house.

If I told you this was published last month in Architectural Digest, you wouldn't bat an eye, right? To me, that is the essence of timeless design. 

The floors are marble, the sconces gilded wood, circa 1917. 

Scattered about the property are charming nooks, with inviting places to sit and contemplate one man's vision of Eden on earth.

An intricate knot garden at the "back" of the estate.

 
 When I bring guests here, they expect to spend a couple of hours touring the house and gardens. We usually end up staying all day. Because it's just so hard to say good-bye.

 Not long after Filoli was built, William Bourn had two severe strokes, the second of which was paralyzing, and he spent the rest of his life in a wheelchair. Being a proud man, he saw to it that the gardeners stayed out of his sight when he was wheeled through the gardens. For his pleasure, a series of nature trails were developed to the south of the property, and they still exist today.

On November 24, 1933, the Bourns hosted a "Drunks Dinner" to celebrate the repeal of the 18th Amendment and the end of Prohibition. They were too ill to attend, but they listened to the revelry from their bedroom upstairs. Can you imagine? Move over, Jay Gatsby.

 Next: Filoli indoors. I wasn't supposed to take pictures, but I did. Naughty me!





 

© 2013 by A Silken Swoon. All rights reserved. All photos by Eileen of A Silken Swoon.

The red chair

I have to start this little ramble by telling you that I am not overly fond of red. My dream rooms are generally filled with taupes, creams, pale sage greens and hints of gold, a serene palette that makes my retinas purr with contentment and almost puts me into...let's say, a silken swoon.

Then one day I was idly leafing through an old issue of Architectural Digest, admiring the interiors of a lovely English castle. I turned a page, and I froze. What was this? Plunked sassily down in the middle of a room filled with soothing hues -- a red chair!

The sudden snap of color jolted my senses, as if I had just chewed on a handful of coffee beans. I looked at that chair and thought, wow.

You know how once you notice something you've never paid attention to before, you start seeing it everywhere? So it is with red chairs. Looking for them is more fun than truffle hunting! More fruitful, too. 

Pretty soon I found these in a book about Provence interiors. Two Bloody Marys in a serene garden? Or something like that.

Okay, so maybe these technically aren't chairs, but, really! They add almost psychedelic punch to this otherwise quiet environment.

 

Ivory, cream, white, and...red chairs!

 

 A shy, sweet corner...then, Carmen emerges!

Via tumblr

This is one of my all-time favorites. Not just red, but red and striped. Like waving a red flag 

in front of...a decorator.

Via Pinterest

Are two matching red chairs better than one? This room would look gorgeous either way.

Another red chair duo, in a bed and breakfast in Bruges, Belgium. This room 
looks good enough to eat. Or wear.

via Belgian Pearls

A trio of chairs, a trio of Venetian mirrors at Ca D'Zan in Sarasota. I just knew I'd find a place for this photo someday, and here it is.

Here's a sneak peek at Michael S. Smith's new book, Building Beauty: The Alchemy of Design. 

What a chair. What a room!

Red and white chair with a red ottoman in the dramatic white entrance of a house in Buenos Aires. Now, where would you look if that ottoman wasn't there?

via The New York Times

Don't you just want to run out and buy a red chair?  Or slipcover one you already have? If nothing else, make some pasta with red sauce tonight. It will be a good start, and maybe you can work your way up to something bigger. Be brave! 

© 2013 by A Silken Swoon. All rights reserved.