Summarize this content to 2000 words in 6 paragraphs in Arabic Unlock the Editor’s Digest for freeRoula Khalaf, Editor of the FT, selects her favourite stories in this weekly newsletter. In 1884, Oscar and Constance Wilde commissioned the fashionable architect EW Godwin to transform their Chelsea home from a conventional terrace to a light, avant-garde setting typical of the Aesthetic movement. The rooms were a riposte to the dark, fabric-choked style of Victorian interiors. Floor coverings were plain; the furniture slim and streamlined. But the most radical feature was the white paintwork. Its stark, unornamented simplicity signalled the couple’s aspirations to be liberal, bohemian — and progressive.It was Charles Rennie Mackintosh who went one further with an all white room in the early 1900s. With ivory walls, furniture and floors, his creation predated the stripped-back interiors of 20th-century Modernism. Fellow architect Edwin Lutyens called it “vulgar”. But Mackintosh was on to something. In her 1913 book The House in Good Taste, New York society decorator Elsie de Wolfe railed against early 20th-century American decor as oppressive and gewgaw-crowded. Her ideal: plain furniture and “plenty of optimism and white paint”. By the 1920s, decorator Syrie Maugham’s mirror-wrapped salons filled with bleached, “pickled” furniture were glamorous inspiration for homes everywhere. Today, white may no longer shock but it can still make a statement. “There’s a directness and elegance to it that focuses the mind,” says Cassandra Ellis, whose paint company, Atelier Ellis, specialises in off-whites whose names — Beginnings, Ode, Mourning Dove — conjure images of contemplative havens. They are part of a new breed of milky, luminescent neutrals that are far from the blinding whites beloved by unimaginative landlords. These complex tones are shown brilliantly in artist Marianna Kennedy’s Spitalfields home, its Georgian panelling is as white as her gesso-based creations; food writer Nigel Slater’s refectory-like kitchen; or the white-on-white rooms that interior designer Rose Uniacke, queen of serene, is renowned for.In restive times, a return to neutral feels apt. “It’s a refuge for busy minds,” says Ellis. She draws a parallel with the uncertainty of the 1930s, when subdued schemes contrasted with the “colourful hedonism” of the previous decade. “What we’re craving now is undone-ness.” Her new factory in London’s Bermondsey, opening in June, will be mainly white. “The tabula rasa; quietness.”Another paint producer, Edward Bulmer, offers a different perspective. He says that brighter colours — derived from precious stones such as malachite — were the preserve of the wealthy. Most of our ancestors made do with earthier hues. “So I believe it is no accident that so many of us are comfortable with neutrals.”White has long fascinated creatives because, traditionally, it was hard to achieve, says paint historian Patrick Baty. Historic schemes, such as William Morris’s porcelain parlour at Kelmscott Manor, in Oxfordshire, used lead-based paint. This poisonous ingredient was phased out from consumer paints in the 1990s but is still permitted for listed buildings.Some manufacturers have replaced lead with clay, calcium and marble dust. These create gentle undertones suited to softer light. Interior designer Beata Heuman painted her sitting room in the “do it all” shade she devised for Mylands — “slightly broken . . . with a bit of grey and a tad of warmth”, she says — as a foil for art and antiques. “It is a world away from the cold, static white often used in rentals.” Artist Kennedy incorporated “yellow oxide, umber and black” pigments into the whites in her 18th-century home, to forge “a quiet connection with the past”. And interior designer Jessica Buckley collaborated with Edward Bulmer on a “warm, rosy white” that counters the cold northern light in her Edinburgh studio.A temple to whiteness is the only way to describe designer Georgie Stogdon’s Holloway home. She sampled “endless” testers before choosing a “‘creamy, chalky” tint by Francesca’s Paints. “White sounds safe and boring,” she says, “but for me it feels considered.” Interior designer Nicola Mardas agrees, citing a south London project: as the seasons change, “the mood shifts and [the white] becomes lilac in the warmth of a summer afternoon”.For Bridie Hall, artist and co-founder of interiors shop Pentreath & Hall, it is about nostalgia. The “trend-proof” white walls in her north London home evoke memories of growing up in a Modernist house in New Zealand — particularly when the light filters through the blinds, tinging the walls shades of lilac or gold. Indeed, many of these contemporary takes feel filtered through the prism of the past. One reference coming to the fore is architect Max Clendenning’s 1960s north London home, which captured the decade’s experimental spirit. The “shimmeringly” white interior, says Simon Andrews, author of a forthcoming book about Clendenning, combined sculpted foam with plywood furniture and vinyl curtains. “Mackintosh on acid”, as one commentator at the time put it.You can see a more restrained interpretation of Mackintosh’s scheme at the postmodern Cosmic House, the former home of architectural critic Charles Jencks. He commissioned architect Sir Terry Farrell to redesign each room in the west London house to reference a different era. The bedroom, a concert of pearl and oyster shades across walls and furnishings, feels ageless. As Ellis puts it: “Once you’ve found the right shade [of white], you might never want to use another colour again.”Find out about our latest stories first — follow @ft_houseandhome on Instagram
