I have often imagined what it might be like to lead a cloistered life and find myself quietly attracted to the idea. Secluded and tranquil days spent amongst beautiful buildings and abundant gardens with time for contemplation and a comforting sense of purpose - it seems like the perfect existence. I am however, devoid of any such vocation and have over the years satisfied my yearning for an ascetic life by visiting numerous cathedrals, churches, abbeys and monasteries in order to soak up the atmosphere, admire the architecture and to reassure myself that somewhere in the world there are indeed spaces that feel eternally calm.  

Gothic architecture illustrates the wonder of human endeavour and aspiration. The style arose from the reverent desire of the faithful to have their churches and cathedrals reach further and further towards the heavens and it relied on it’s ribbed vaults, flying buttresses and pointed arches to provide the required engineering to defy the inconvenience of gravity and steer these soaring edifices close to Paradise. The pointed arches, bent with such load bearing grace remain one of the most practical and beautiful architectural motifs in existence.

One of my earliest memories of the beauty of Gothic architecture is a visit to the seminal cathedral of St Denis on a winter’s day sometime in my now distant youth. St Denis was built in 1144 and is the first cathedral to display all the elements of the Gothic style. A metallic ride on the Paris metro delivered us to the suburb of St Denis beyond the périphérique, tenement blocks towered in the background and graffitied walls led us in the direction of the famed cathedral. Inside there was silence and the air was aqueous, cold and redolent with the scent of history. The celebrated rose windows transformed the grey, urban light of modern day St Denis into an eerie radiance  - an alchemic refraction of light that obscured the screeching of the world beyond and encouraged peacefulness. Time stood still and so did I with the kings and queens of France buried beneath my feet.

At a similar time my partner and I discovered the Romanesque abbey of Fontevraud during a meandering trip through the Loire. It was late in the afternoon but the kindly and solitary elderly woman selling tickets let us enter. We heaved open a weighty wooden door and wandered alone amongst cloisters draped with ivy and flagstones carpeted with moss. The gardens were overgrown, a tangle of vegetation guarding secrets. The thick stone walls bore the patina of centuries and the shadows whispered psalms - the devotion of the monks who inhabited this enchanting place was palpable. I had naively assumed the serenity of Fontevraud would remain inviolable but sadly a more recent visit revealed the abbey to be an over restored, heavily touristed and wholly antiseptic shell of it’s former self. The hallowed charm of Fontevraud had proven no match for the modern plague of progress.

There is a crusade of zealous restoration happening in France at the moment and numerous historic buildings and monuments are unfortunately being relieved of their soul - the gentle traces of history that provided the magic have been irreversibly scrubbed clean. The intent is noble and the preservation of the buildings is paramount, but it is heart wrenching to witness the loss of character which will undoubtedly allow the architecture to endure. It is now a rare thing to encounter an interior that is unspoilt, where you feel transported and enfolded by the past - when they are found they must be cherished and committed to memory before they are gone.

My latest obsession at Haunt is a pair of elegant Gothic mirrors that are crafted from early 19th century window frames salvaged from an abbey in Moissac. Undoubtedly victims of insensitive restoration these exquisite architectural elements have thankfully found another application. The mirrors may be purchased singly - the perfect Gothic feature to add timeless monastic beauty to your home.