For as long as I can remember I have been mysteriously drawn to all things green. I remember purchasing my first bicycle and the overwhelming flush of excitement being more about the fact that it happened to be the perfect shade of green rather than having the bicycle itself - the serendipitous colour somehow made my happiness complete. I have spent my professional life either buying or trying to restrain myself from buying antique pieces that are painted or upholstered in an irresistible green. Like a moth to a flame I will be drawn to anything green at an antique fair which proves to be somewhat of a distraction from the job at hand - a peculiar addiction perhaps, but as the French say, c’est plus fort que moi.
 Long ago during a year spent in Paris, we would often spend an afternoon browsing the antique dealers on the left bank - mostly admiring shop windows filled with idiosyncratically curated displays. Quirky 18th century pieces would be paired with taxidermy, Venetian chandeliers, a hint of gilt and perhaps some tribal art. We would marvel at the fact that in Paris there were actually customers who would purchase such extraordinary eccentricities and imagine one day being the proprietors of a similar retail wunderkammer, defiantly ignoring the challenges of our home market in order to entertain the dream.
At the corner of Rue Jacob and Rue Bonaparte was a boutique with its facade painted a deep and funereal black. The shop was never open and the windows were partially obscured but through the brittle curtains we could make out an ethereal wonderland of antiques arranged as if it were somebody’s home. Neoclassical pieces were mixed with ebonised Napoleon III furniture and tasseled ottomans. Intricate wicker Victorian chairs and tables were scattered throughout as if plucked from a jardin d’hiver. In the depths of the rooms small corridors led to mysterious destinations and long extinguished lamps sat patiently in shadowy corners. The palette of the interior was predominantly black, powder blue and garden green and I was entirely captivated.
This was of course the gallery owned by the legendary Parisian interior designer / antique dealer Madeleine Castaing. We stumbled across the boutique at what must have been the end of her life and it remained in a peculiar kind of suspended animation for a long while giving the privileged passerby a last glimpse of her world - her unique and exquisite style precariously frozen in time.
That initial discovery of her charming boutique led to an unerring admiration and fascination for the work of Madeleine Castaing. She was a diva of design and an inimitable antique dealer.
Her style was classically based with a current of irreverence and whimsy. She would pair museum quality antiques with amusing flea market finds and even plastic flowers - “ sometimes you need a bit of bad taste “ she would declare. She was inspired by French 19th century novelists such as Proust and Balzac and endeavoured to create rooms that felt lived in and authentic. She understood the perfection in imperfection and was known to turn the vacuum cleaner on reverse and spray freshly painted walls with a fine coating of dust. Ignoring conventional taste at the time she relied on her own eye to combine unexpected antique pieces and create a singular and modern style.
This latest setting at Haunt indulges my own love for the colour green and is in a small way an homage to Madeleine Castaing. A nod to classical antiquity, the pairing of black and green and a hint of jardin d’hiver - I am sure that she would approve.