When I was kid, my mum told me she was known by friends at her Welsh boarding school as ‘Eira Chelsea’ because of where she grew up (Welsh people often had the name of where they came from or the job they did tacked on to their name as a mark of familiarity or affection). I thought of Mum the other day when I went to Walton Street where my grandparents owned a shop and where Andrew Martin @andrewmartin_int has it’s newly refurbed store (You haven’t been there? It’s THE most sublime, eclectic interiors emporium. Go. Now.) Mum was endlessly fascinated by how the street had changed and what shops had been, gone and been replaced. She would, I know, have loved Andrew Martin. She’d have adored the colour and style but most of all the wit and humour behind the cleverly curated interiors offerings (‘I’m not exactly sure where we’d put a real dinosaur egg but shall we get it ANYWAY?’ I can imagine her saying). In a world of samey, safe interiors, I am exhilarated by colour courage and fearless style that says, with confidence, ‘Take my hand: I know you’re not sure but trust me!’ Eira Chelsea would, I know, most definitely have approved.
Martha, The Colour File x
