‘The clichés – tweed, dogs, wellies – are wonderful in their way, but the countryside today is also contemporary, diverse and inventive. I think modern British country style has grown beyond nostalgia; it’s about finding beauty in how people really live,’ says Paul Eldwin Glade, the architectural designer and creative director behind Fowlescombe Farm in south Devon.
Glade’s perspective is unique – originally from Switzerland, he has not grown up experiencing the British countryside’s many decorative quirks – but it chimes perhaps with the expectations of the many wealthy foreigners (mainly Americans) who are flooding to the UK’s beauty spots. Drawn to the idyllic country-home aesthetic depicted in the likes of Downton Abbey and Bridgerton, they are being presented with something altogether more nuanced.
‘Nostalgia has always played a huge part in rural interiors – that longing for comfort, tradition and belonging,’ continues Glade. ‘We all want spaces that feel rooted, that remind us of continuity, but I think there’s been a real shift towards authenticity and telling the true story of a place rather than recreating a fantasy of it.’
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That story for him involved looking at the rhythms of daily life on Fowlescombe Farm. As well as 10 luxuriously pared-back guest suites scattered between stone barns and the Victorian farmhouse, the land is also home to English Longhorn and Beef Shorthorn cattle and Manx Loaghtan sheep – all part of the 450-acre regenerative ecosystem.
For others, the source material is different, but no less integral. When designing the hotel bar at Chewton Glen on the outskirts of Hampshire’s New Forest, Jo Littlefair, co-founder of Goddard Littlefair, researched one of the storied property’s most famous former residents. ‘Captain Marryat was the brother of the former owner of Chewton Glen and a naval novelist,’ says Littlefair. ‘His sense of journey and adventure inspired us to include naval elements like antique telescopes and compasses wrapped in leather.’
Similarly, proximity to Charleston, home to the Bloomsbury Group, was the catalyst for interior designer Georgie Wykeham to play with pattern, colour and hand-painted elements when working on Sussex escape The Alfriston. ‘It’s like, if these walls could talk, what would they say?’ adds Littlefair, who believes there’s something quintessentially British in wanting to know, or at least imagine, the lives of the people who once inhabited these great houses.
Interior designer Nicola Harding speaks not of individuals, but instead of the craft culture and heritage of Wales, ‘its myths and folklore’, that she was able to weave into her elegant redesign of Penmaenuchaf Hotel. Located high above the magical Mawddach estuary valley at the foot of the peak of Cader Idris, one of the highest mountains of southern Eryri (Snowdonia) National Park, the grand, stone-fronted Victorian mansion house now boasts antique Welsh quilts and bespoke rugs by Shame Studios inspired by historic weaving practices.
‘By framing ornate pieces of old lace, sourcing traditional local pottery and pairing antique furniture and fireplaces with double-ended cast-iron bathtubs, what had come to feel tired and dour soon became an enchanted place of intrigue,’ she says of the transformation. Personality is key, but so, of course, is integrity – using designs and materials that are true to the location.
‘Over time, rural interiors have become quite themed – layered, busy and more about performance than place. There’s even been a trend for faking the rustic: faux timbers, manufactured patina, surfaces that try to imitate age,’ say Liam McGroarty and Oliver Collinge, founders of Youth, a design studio with a focus on intimate design. ‘It’s an idealised version of the countryside, and it can feel contrived.’ Their concept for Hyll, a new luxury retreat in the Cotswolds, is similar to the other projects mentioned here, a hearty rejection of that artificiality.
‘It’s tactility that defines the spaces,’ the duo explain – ‘the way the light hits textured plaster, the grain of old timber, the softness of linen. We wanted to take a step away from the expected Cotswolds aesthetic. The atmosphere we’ve created is more contemporary, more emotional. It’s not about quaintness or charm – it’s about an honest, modern expression of place.’
Being respectful to tradition, involving local artisans to keep regional crafts alive and using natural materials that are linked to the landscape are all important then, but there is another consideration that, argues Lou Davies, co-founder of Box 9, makes an interior truly modern: ‘passionate innovation’. Her team’s design for Denton Reserve in the Yorkshire countryside saw them use revolutionary and sustainable construction techniques to ‘redefine rural luxury and reimagine what a country estate could be’.
Set within its 2,500 acres is the central Grade I-listed Georgian hall, as well as a cosy cottage, barn and lodges situated in the former coach house. ‘We work with natural, reclaimed and waste materials, placing equal value on the people and planet that shape and surround our work,’ explains Davies. ‘Whether it’s timber fallen in a storm and reworked into something incredible or a discarded slab of stone reimagined as a table, everything is chosen with purpose.’
A piece that truly captures this spirit is the light made from dried heather that replaced the hall’s former chandelier. Designed by Studio Amos, who visited the site, swam in the lake and foraged from the frosty moors, it is a statement of intent that, says Davies, ‘invites people to pause and question their expectations of what a stately home should feel like’.
A large part of that expectation is a certain colour palette. ‘People often picture the countryside in green and brown, thatch and tweed, but if you really look, the palette is far more alive,’ believes Fowlescombe Farm’s Glade. ‘The Devon soil runs deep red, the grass in late summer turns pale gold, the skies move through blues, greys and silvers in a single day. There are violets in shadow, yellows in the hedgerows, rust, clay and lichen.’
Youth’s McGroarty and Collinge agree: ‘The real landscape isn’t static; it’s constantly shifting. Our palette at Hyll follows that rhythm – embracing the moody depth of autumn, the muted quiet of winter and the freshness of spring. It’s not about perfection or prettiness; it’s about honesty.’ There’s a utilitarian sense to the richer, stronger colours that are often associated with rural design, of course.
As Wykeham points out, ‘There is an element of having to keep things more robust, and dark colours hide a multitude of sins, from dog hair to mud from wellies.’ Practicality has to be paired with poetry, though. When exploring the finished interior of one of Chewton Glen’s public spaces, Littlefair recalls how, between this visit and her last, the hydrangeas in the gardens had turned pink, with the hue serendipitously picked up by flecks in the tweed upholstery of the new sofas.
Tweed still has its place then, but its impact is less heavy, paired with plain linens and soft leather – part of a more considered and varied whole. After all, as Glade notes: ‘A touch of cliché is fine.’
‘The countryside is generous, layered, imperfect’; it is fitting if its interiors feel the same. ‘Rural interiors were once either heavy and ornate, filled with objects and “stuff’, or incredibly humble, raw and primitive. Today, we can see the beauty in both,’ adds Davies, whose approach is all about finding that elegant balance. At the end of the day, there is no definitive formula to follow. Country interiors today, argues Glade, ‘are less about a look and more about atmosphere – how light moves, how materials age, how a room makes you feel after a day spent in the rain’.
