Shades of grey, pops of colour… Interior trends fixate then fade. But, like a beacon of permanence in a sea of transience, the midcentury look (that’s the umbrella term applied to anything designed between the late 1940s and 1970s) is rarely out of fashion. Perhaps it is the use of natural materials, streamlined shapes and bright colours, or that balance between practicality and light-heartedness… Whatever the reason, the teak tables, spiky-legged chairs and jaunty task lamps of postwar design never feel stale.
It is this mix of modernity with fun which makes designer Emma Carlow’s home in the Sussex town of Lewes so appealing. The G Plan furniture, paintbox hues and folkish prints exude an optimism that has captivated Carlow since childhood. “I grew up in the 1970s, playing with Fuzzy-Felt and watching The Magic Roundabout – there’s a simplicity to that era which I love,” says Carlow, who used to design fabrics for high-street brands like M&S before launching her children’s furnishings business, Playroom. “The ethos of midcentury designers like Charles and Ray Eames has always influenced my work. After the war there was a real sense that good design could change the world. The pieces are utilitarian, never frivolous and everything is on a human scale.”
There is a similarly companionable spirit in Lewes, where Carlow and her husband Graham, a photographer, and their son Finn, 15, moved from London nine years ago. “I’ve known Lewes since I was a student at Brighton School of Art,” says Carlow. “When a friend of mine from college moved here I thought I’d come and have a look. Lewes has always drawn a creative crowd. It’s easy to find like-minded people. I’m reflected everywhere I go. London always felt transitory, as if everyone wanted to move out. In Lewes you see young and old people. The whole circle of life is here.”
Carlow also likes the town’s “subversive” streak. “When parking meters were introduced,” she says, “people blew them up.” Plans to replace the station café with a chain outlet were also stymied. There has also been hue and cry over a project to redevelop the site of the town’s former foundry, famed for producing the railings at St Paul’s Cathedral. “When Lewesians don’t want something to happen they make themselves heard.”
Carlow’s terraced cottage was originally built for the foundry workers. “We’d been renting on this street when it came up for sale. We knew the owners so we put in an offer. I think they were happy to sell it to us.” It took a frenetic five months for Carlow to put her spin on the interior. “It was all very 1980s. There was a dark kitchen at the back so we extended the side of the house and added the glass roof to introduce light.” The layout was inspired by the long, teak dining table which abuts the island. Yellow cupboards and a Formica worktop seal the mid-mod effect – “It feels as if I have stepped back into my 1970s childhood,” she says.
To eke out space, the guest room moonlights as a storage space with a bunkbed tucked between built-in cupboards. The loft is now Finn’s eyrie while the vertiginous staircase was re-raked for a more “knee-friendly” ascent and painted yellow to match the kitchen. Neighbour Alan Hughes, principal of the Inchbald School of Design in London, oversaw the design of the pretty garden with its “terrace for G&Ts”. He also chose the Marmoleum kitchen floor: “We were mulling over colours. Alan said: ‘It has to be the blue.’ And so blue it is.”
Home is also a “laboratory” for Carlow’s designs. “When I designed for stores like Mothercare it was pink for girls, blue for boys. So when I set up my own business I wanted to do things that I liked. All our colours are gender neutral to appeal to children – and adults,” says Carlow, who “road tests” scaled-down versions of her wallpapers in a vintage doll’s house. Elsewhere, everything has that “human connection”. There is a lampshade from local store Wickle, where Emma does the window displays. The rabbit mask was left over from Halloween. “We decorated a neighbour’s hallway with branches to create a wood. The children were terrified.” The woven fish mobile – a rustic take on an Alexander Calder mobile – was made by a friend at the monthly crafts group Carlow runs at her home in winter. “I wouldn’t call it a class, they are too disobedient.”
There is another 70s throwback in a vivid bag slung over a door handle. “I made it from curtains which used to hang in my childhood bedroom. It’s arguably the most influential piece of textile in my life,” she says. “I posted a picture of it on Instagram recently. A friend saw it and said: ‘Ah! That explains a lot.’”
