The pages epitomise the buoyance and optimism of the ’30s, once
the economy had recovered from the depression of the early years of the decade.
A boom in housebuilding—3 million houses were built during the 1930s in Britain—was
accompanied by a shift to home-ownership as mortgages became easier to obtain
and afford.
A suburban house built at this time would be modest but a
step-up from living in a city flat. Typically, it would comprise two reception
rooms downstairs, and upstairs two main bedrooms and a box room, as well as a
kitchen and indoor bathroom. Although the designs were pretty uniform, subtle
differences in the half-timbering or gables lent each house its uniqueness. And
while most of the new houses were built on the outskirts of town where land was
available, the styles would be reminiscent of country cottages, inspiring some
of the delightfully chintzy interiors.
As ordinary folk found themselves homeowners for the first
time, so their expectations rose: homebuyers now demanded internal bathrooms and
loos, and embraced new technology and ideas such as the wireless and design
ideas, built-in wardrobes and serving hatches, and thus the need for these
wonderful interior design magazines.
I think my favourite picture from this collection would be
the sitting room/study with the title A
COLOURED TELEPHONE Is the Keynote of This Room. Of course, it seems so
quaint to us now to design a room around a telephone, but you can’t help but
adore the bold red of the telephone sitting alongside the glorious, busy
fabric.
The sitting room Where
Friendship Would Prosper, I suppose, is a little more traditional, but
charming nonetheless with the matching fabric and its seating arrangement
around the fireplace.
The kitchen I adore for its simplicity and thoughtful
design. It must have seemed pretty cutting-edge for its serving hatch and
well-planned built-in cupboard, and I think its elegance puts it above
modern-day kitchens, in their clichéd fussiness.
Built-in cupboards again in the attic bedroom give it an
edge, while the matching fabric and knick-knacks create a welcome cosiness.
The bathroom—a far cry from the days of a tin bath in front
of the range and an outside privie—is revealing. It must have seemed the height
of luxury, although I suppose of all the illustrations here, it may seem the
most quaint to modern eyes used to mixer taps and power showers.
Even so, there is something so forward-looking about all of
these designs, produced with comfort and a fresh attractiveness at their heart.
Of course, we now know that within just a few years the clouds of war would
threaten these cosy scenes, and that design was soon to be pared down to match
the availability of materials and resources. But I love these designs for what
they are—an expression of hope for a more settled time, and a future where
friendship would indeed prosper.
