Armed with educated eyes, unerring taste and amazing confidence, is it any wonder that the French have long held the design world in its thrall? Or that the majority buy what they like, boldly upholding the standards they insist upon while instinctively styling settings that do not appear âdecorated,â but rather reveal their passions, interests, heritage and unmistakable flairâto say nothing about how they want to be perceived.
To put it politely, many raise their well-groomed eyebrows at our dependence on decorators, whom they view as leaving one vulnerable to uncertain, not necessarily enviable, results. Specifically, it is not that none would ever dream of collaborating with a design professional, only that turning over control of a project even to the most capable hands is to them a somewhat unsettling thought.
So, what if faced with myriad issues that warrant assistance? In that case, the French are likely to have a comprehensive plan, opt to be hands-on and be precise in requests: specifying styles, shapes and proportions in such detail as to leave little doubt about their wishes suggests the confidence they have in their own good taste, which is, of course, an extension of their identity. Never mind that ancestral furniture and objets dâart delivered with alluring backstories conspire to make seeking expert help unnecessary. The French are the first to admit it.
Without fail, settings start with furnishings handed down from one generation to the next, reflecting disparate influences and periods; this is to say, a blur of Louis styles that eases formality. As rooms take shape, they gather even more history-laden accoutrements that meaningfully transform the space. Suffice it to say, in France, collecting is a national pastime; some would call this propensity for hunting and gathering a personal mania. By all appearances, habitués spend a lifetime closely guarding their artistic heritage both for themselves and for their children. For some, the thrill of the hunt is addictive. Yet even the most zealous contend that less is more, for there is fear of cultural backlash against ostentation. Displaying riches like museum artifacts is frowned up, which is to say déclassé.
Despite the grandeur in which Louis XIV and his descendants, Louis XV and Louis XVI, lived in the sumptuous Chùteau de Versailles, understated beauty is a design dictum. Those with pro-Gallic sentiments equate elegance with restraint, shunning the wanton excess identified with the ancien régime ousted in a bloody revolution that began on July 14, 1789, when thousands of proletariats stormed the Bastille, freeing prisoners and ushering in a decade-long Reign of Terror starring a guillotine stationed in the center of Paris.
Not that there arenât glints of glamour inside appartements in the Ăle-de-Franceâthe very heart of France, including Paris and seven surrounding departmentsâwhere more than twelve million people live. (By some estimates, fewer than 25 percent live in single-family homes.) In boiserie-bedecked quarters that all but demand splendor, the extravaganceâlayers of marquetry and ormolu, not to mention brocade draperies with heavy swags and jabotsâwould have surely delighted the Bourbon monarchs. Most settings, though, are neither fussy nor stuffy. With the cardinal rule of Gallic upbringing being that wealth and discretion must go hand in hand, care is taken not to flaunt indulgences that are showy trappings of success, much less break the age-old cultural taboo of appearing as though living stylishly is a preoccupation in itself.
Tellingly, of course, eighteenth-century furniture with carved ornamentation springing from one of continental Franceâs well-defined regions, posh textiles, distinctive porcelains and oil paintings in original carved-wood frames are instantly identifiable indicators of style and station. Much like the fine linens and heirloom silver passed down from one generation to the next, all are celebrated badges of the fortunate, having bearing on how one is perceived. But, then, so are less-than-perfect antiques that look as if they have overstayed their welcome. An area rug that is threadbare in places, a chair with fraying fabric, porcelain with chips and cracks all telegraph privilege, if not serve as a reminder that perhaps those of us living an ocean away shouldnât try quite so hard. No matter that in our image-obsessed society it is a challenge to avoid taking decorating too seriously.
Wary as the French are of outward ripples from peers, there is, however, the unmistakable sense that their more-than-mild obsession with appearances remains intact. Marrying luxury with utility in refreshing, at times unexpected ways at once inspiring and intriguing results in settings both distinctive and yet familiar with a hint of je ne sais quoi that is difficult to explain.
Whatever oneâs sensibilityâmodern or classic-minded, or a blend of tradition and modernity that in recent years has taken holdâit makes little difference. The warmest, most approachable settings begin with space management that not only increases the visual appeal of a room but also enhances its livability.
Put simply, traditional interiors favor symmetry, or mirror imagery, historically the key to classical style. But even when identical furnishings sit facing each other on either side of a fireplace or other vertical axis, a subtle bit of asymmetry may fittingly find its way into the room. Atop the mantle, for example, a ...