The Fifties Home

I read recently about a man who has converted his house so that every item, down to the smallest cup, is authentically 1950s. His three concessions to modernity - a flat screen television, fast-boiling kettle and a microwave - are discretely hidden away. The home has been described as a 'time capsule'.

But is it? Wouldn't the real 1950s home consist of an eclectic mix of furniture and styles - things that been handed down or patched-up? I don't know, but I do remember that my parents' 1960s home was a mixture of 1950s decor and grim, prewar furniture, all of which clashed horribly. Giving their house a 'contemporary makeover' wasn't an option.

But by the early 70s, my parents had become so sick of the 50s look, they covered their kitchen walls in a hideous, self-adhesive vinyl material called Fablon and painted the furniture orange. It was as good as it sounds.

As a result of my upbringing, I've always been quite hostile to 1950s design, associating it with poverty and austerity. But when I found a 1957 book called the 'Home Handyman' recently, I decided to try and be more open minded. I've added the original captions:

"A Brianco occasional table made from sheets of wood and screw-on legs."

I remember having a similar table, which my parents kept until the late 1980s. The screw-on legs ensured that the table was always structurally unsound and any attempts to have a 'posh tea' for visitors was undermined by wobbling cups that sloshed tea everywhere. Not a design classic.

"Against the plain walls and carpet this boldly striped sofa becomes the focal point of the room."

I was slightly distracted by the cheap-looking fence outside, but I agree that the sofa is a focal point. Just not in a good way.

"When using bold designs for curtains and cushions it is advisable to set them off against plain coverings on sofas and chairs."

I won't take issue with that, but I would question having a collection of dead butterflies displayed on the walls:

"Plastic tiles make ideal floor coverings for places where water is likely to be splashed about..."

Before I worried about the floor, I'd do something about the walls:

"A multi-coloured striped towel lends gaiety to the bathroom and fits in with any colour scheme."

Really?

"The dark piping on the cushions is all that is needed to make an effective contrast."

I quite like this room, but I don't think the "dark piping" was a deciding factor.

"Loose covers add charm to rooms of character. The materials should harmonize with the atmosphere of the room."

This room, with its mixture of traditional furnishings, is probably more authentically 1950s than many of the rooms shown above. The chintz look is very unpopular today but my parents loved it and bought some rather striking nylon seat covers with a bright, floral design. I think I gradually unravelled them while watching the Six Million Dollar Man.

In conclusion, this book didn't win me over and I'd baulk at the prospect of living in a 1950s home. But although I may not appreciate the interiors of the 50s, I think the graphic design of that decade is much more appealing:

Whatever happened to Murphy?

Postwar

When I listed this 1950s design book, over 18 months ago, I was sure that it would be snapped up within days.

I was wrong. I had to wait until yesterday to find a buyer. I'm very glad that this book has found a new home, as I rescued it from a skip a couple of years ago. I can happily bin a 13th impression of Rogue Herries, but this rare title was too good to throw away.

These scans - mostly of exhibition stands - don't do justice to the originals, but I think that they convey something of the cautious optimism of a battleworn Britain:

BOAC and BEA eventually became BA, or British Airways. I've no idea why.

This is a stunning exhibition stand that has aged far better than the products it is promoting. By the time I was born, televisions were far more modern-looking, but still seemed to break down on a regular basis. My parents knew all of the DER repairmen by name.

The brand name 'English Electric' sounds rather incongruous, but between 1918 and 1968, they were one of the most successful British companies of their kind.

In a recent poll on a Facebook group I belong to, the launch of ITV was the most popular answer to the question: "Which single event heralded the beginning of the decline of Britain?" The shock of having commercial breaks was more than some could bear and I knew children who weren't allowed to watch ITV.

They missed some good programmes.

I usually associate electric bar fires with the bedsits of 'angry young men' in films like Room at the Top. The image of a frustrated, duffle-coated Colin Wilson fan feeding his last half crown into the meter doesn't quite fit with the glamour of this display.

This showroom promises a brighter future, but the reality was postwar rationing and austerity in a country that had been almost bankrupted by the Second World War:

The book is now in the post. I hope my customer enjoys reading it as much as I have.

Sasek's London

One of my favourite books that I've come across recently is a large, illustrated hardback called 'This is London', by the Czech artist Miroslav Sasek.

Published as part of a series that includes Paris, San Francisco, Rome and New York, Sasek's 1950s-style illustrations have gained a cult following and there is an excellent tribute website here.

I'd been meaning to keep 'This is London' for myself, but forgot to remove it from sale. This morning, my heart sank when I saw that it had been snapped up by a gentleman in Spain. My loss is his gain.

But before 'This is London' goes in the post, I thought I'd share some of the images. Sasek's book was published in 1959, so this is a London of City gents in bowler hats, chirpy Cockneys and, of course, this:

By the time I was born, the infamous smogs were a thing of the past (partly thanks to our old friend Sir Gerald Nabarro), but it took several decades for London to lose its association with thick fog.

I wonder if London will ever lose its association with most of the following images:

Half a century on, the bowler hats have disappeared and the Cockneys have mostly moved out to Essex and Kent, whilst commuters are increasingly likely to be reading the Daily Telegraph on their smartphones. London feels very different to the place I knew as a child - better in some ways, worse in others.

I shall be in London on Sunday afternoon, as I'm going to see a friend in a concert called 'Songs My Mother Taught Me' (a bit of misnomer for a collection of complex 20th century choral pieces; unless it was a very aspirational, middle class mother). But before that, I'm going to see this:

It looks slightly more promising than Martin Creed's Turner prize-winning work: the lights going on and off.