THE PARLOUR PRINCIPLE
WORK WITH THE HOUSE. NOT AGAINST IT.
You live in an old house. It might be long familiar, or all new to you. In either case, you are hardly indifferent towards your home. You understand that whether it is listed or not, it cannot be treated the same as a newly built house. Old houses come with baggage: creaky staircases, damp basements, dusty attics and drafty windows.
Perhaps a ghost or two. But also wavy glass acting as prisms in the sunlight, banisters softened by more hands than anybody can remember, and that low door through which you now duck without thinking, out of sheer habit.
If you seek a house in which to make do and mend, replace, repair, restore, research and agonise over moulding profiles or wallpaper patterns, you might be the sort of company old houses choose.
I have spent my life among such houses, and they continue to surprise me with both their charm and their demands. They are endlessly fascinating, full of quirks and surprises. Some pleasant, some costly. Change too much and one runs the risk of eradicating the very quirks that make them special.
They are not simply buildings. They are walls and a roof with a personality and history attached. If you are willing, being the steward of a house with soul can be extremely rewarding. They can make for sanctuaries unrivalled, and a grateful stage to display both past and present. However, we are only the keepers, not the actual owners.
Therefore, gentle does it. Gentle and attentive. This means patience, time and knowledge: a house must be lived with before decisions are made. How the light falls on the opposite wall in the morning, the threshold that always catches you out, and that door that needs an extra push to close. Do we mend it or leave it? Our role is to read as many of the previous chapters as possible in order to write the next one carefully, as well as to remember there will be more stories to come. We are not meant to close the book.
From this affection for a house’s contradictions follows the principle that it must be treated with respect and an awareness of its history.
This is what I call The Parlour Principle: deciding, with patience and discernment, which quirks to preserve and which changes will best serve the house over time.
Old houses deserve work that will last. Every alteration, whether preserving, adapting, or renewing, must be judged by its necessity, its respect for the building and its history. Each colour chosen, each pattern added, and each surface altered, has consequences. Balancing magic and comfort: old timber, worn stone and well-made joinery where they belong; modern services, storage and light tucked away as stage machinery. We keep what carries its weight, repair what can serve, and introduce new work that feels as if it always belonged. Nothing out of character; everything well rehearsed.
We cannot look to trends or fashions for answers. We must design for continuity and balance, for future custodians, and most importantly, for the house. The task is not to erase the past, nor is it to create a pastiche, but to ensure the house remains alive for the chapters yet to come.
So, when we contemplate what to change in order to adapt to modern living and our current standards, we must remember that the right to do something doesn’t always make it the right thing to do.
There will be trade-offs. There will be compromises. But as with everything meant to endure, the results will be worth it. And in the long run it is the house that lives with the decisions. So, let's tread carefully.
