Going to the Opera (depicting William Henry Vanderbilt family) by Seymour Guy, 1873.
Most people are curious about other people’s homes. What does the furniture look like in there? What do they have on the walls?
We can’t help ourselves. We’re just that way. Haven’t you gone out after dark to walk the dog and paused momentarily craning your neck to peek through people’s windows hoping to get a glimpse of the décor?
That kind of snooping is nothing new. It’s been going on for centuries. Well, at least since the 19th century with the advent of the Industrial Age.
The rise of the mercantile class brought with it both the urge and necessity to show off one’s new-found wealth; suddenly, people with pots of extra money were wondering what they were going to do with it. Flaunt it, of course, and what better way than to decorate the walls and floors of a brand-new house in that upscale neighborhood in the very latest fashion and décor?
How the new, moneyed housewife exhibited her possessions became a vital issue. It was no longer a routine matter of putting fresh thatching on the roof or sweeping the bare, packed-down earth floor every morning. A sturdy house with spacious rooms demanded an intriguing interface of furniture and color. A house was no longer just a structure to inhabit but an expression of the people who lived in there.
Above all, a stylish house was the earmark of a virtuous woman. If she had taste, knew how to mix colors, had a keen eye for the form and function of furniture knowing how to properly display the outward signs of new wealth, she was well on her way to providing a nourishing environment in which her family could thrive. If she was lacking these virtues, no amount of money could compensate for their absence.
Why is it that we yearn to glimpse into other people’s homes? What do they have that we don’t?
How our home looks offers an intimate peek at how we view ourselves. Do sprawling chunks of over-sized furniture indicate a demonstrative personality? Do small pieces tightly arrayed signal a cautious sensibility?
Design is a vital prerequisite of the cultural make-up of everyday life. Especially in a free-market society, it’s accessible to anyone who’s interested. Granted, some people have more innate flair for design than others – a good sense – and this can have a salutary effect when they exercise it.
Design is seductive. It can make us think we are something we really aren’t. It plays on our deepest fantasies. It give us the illusion that we are a lot more classy than we really are. After all, why do people retain the services of an interior designer?
We can’t help ourselves. We’re just that way. Haven’t you gone out after dark to walk the dog and paused momentarily craning your neck to peek through people’s windows hoping to get a glimpse of the décor?
That kind of snooping is nothing new. It’s been going on for centuries. Well, at least since the 19th century with the advent of the Industrial Age.
The rise of the mercantile class brought with it both the urge and necessity to show off one’s new-found wealth; suddenly, people with pots of extra money were wondering what they were going to do with it. Flaunt it, of course, and what better way than to decorate the walls and floors of a brand-new house in that upscale neighborhood in the very latest fashion and décor?
How the new, moneyed housewife exhibited her possessions became a vital issue. It was no longer a routine matter of putting fresh thatching on the roof or sweeping the bare, packed-down earth floor every morning. A sturdy house with spacious rooms demanded an intriguing interface of furniture and color. A house was no longer just a structure to inhabit but an expression of the people who lived in there.
Above all, a stylish house was the earmark of a virtuous woman. If she had taste, knew how to mix colors, had a keen eye for the form and function of furniture knowing how to properly display the outward signs of new wealth, she was well on her way to providing a nourishing environment in which her family could thrive. If she was lacking these virtues, no amount of money could compensate for their absence.
Why is it that we yearn to glimpse into other people’s homes? What do they have that we don’t?
How our home looks offers an intimate peek at how we view ourselves. Do sprawling chunks of over-sized furniture indicate a demonstrative personality? Do small pieces tightly arrayed signal a cautious sensibility?
Design is a vital prerequisite of the cultural make-up of everyday life. Especially in a free-market society, it’s accessible to anyone who’s interested. Granted, some people have more innate flair for design than others – a good sense – and this can have a salutary effect when they exercise it.
Design is seductive. It can make us think we are something we really aren’t. It plays on our deepest fantasies. It give us the illusion that we are a lot more classy than we really are. After all, why do people retain the services of an interior designer?
One way out of the doldrums of an ordinary life is to live in a fashionable environment. Can’t we see ourselves properly sitting on that silk settee in those flattering photographs that adorn those slick interior design magazines? Isn’t that where we secretly want to belong?
These design magazines both fascinate and alienate. Their alluring images, in reality, may not promise an immediate transformation, but they can teach us how to imitate the look and make us feel we are at least getting a shot at a more glamorous life.