The fabulous fifties
As The Queen celebrates her Jubilee, we take a look back at British design in the early 1950s, when she acceded the throne. By Rhiannon Batten
Think of Cool Britannia and the late 1990s probably comes to mind, the nation zig-a-zig-ahing its way around a Union Jack-emblazoned urry of formaldehyde-submerged sharks and down-with-the-kids politicians. In truth, though, it was more a second coming. True Cool Britannia had peaked almost half a century earlier, during a swell of national optimism sparked by the end of the Second World War and Queen Elizabeth II’s accession.
Rationing may still have been in place in Britain in the early 1950s, but light could be seen at the end of the great tunnel of austerity that had dominated people’s lives for so long. The welfare state was expanding, improvements in living conditions were gradually being implemented, workers were in such high demand that migrants from commonwealth countries were starting to arrive in large numbers (albeit, shamefully, to be met with discrimination in many cases) and the middle classes were enjoying more leisure time – and the gadgets to either enable it (washing machines) or enjoy it (cars). Things were not, yet, quite as upbeat in the UK as they were in America, where both the economy and babies were booming, TVs were commonplace and rock ‘n’ roll was the soundtrack to a proliferation of shiny new suburbs. Yet, what might now be called a ‘vibe shift ’ was underway.
Into this brave new cultural landscape landed 1951’s Festival of Britain. Described, aspirationally, as ‘a tonic for the nation’ by the Festival’s Director-General, former newspaper editor Gerald Barry, the event aimed to showcase Britain’s science, technology, arts and industrial design, and to generate some sorely needed post-war positivity. Timed to tap into the centenary of 1851’s Great Exhibition, it was focused on London – speci cally the South Bank, where purpose-designed buildings, such as the Royal Festival Hall, burst like futuristic teasels from what had previously been a 28-acre bombsite.
Construction begins for Festival of Britain. Lebrecht Music & Arts/Alamy Stock Photo; Arcaid Images/Alamy Stock Photo; Lordprice Collection/Alamy Stock Photo; Neil Baylis/Alamy Stock Photo 
Official guides to the pleasure gardens and the South Bank exhibition (with logo by Abram Games).
Exhibitions were spread between 22 pavilions designed by bright young architects including Hugh Casson, Misha Black and Ralph Tubbs, each themed around subjects such as ‘Homes and Gardens’ (where Ercol was one of the exhibited brands) and ‘Country’ (where 5,000 prize bulls, goats and ducks were paraded). Elsewhere, both established and emerging artists were commissioned to produce works for the site, among them Henry Moore, Barbara Hepworth, Jacob Epstein and Lynn Chadwick. Other attractions included a range of restaurants and cafes, a high-tech cinema, a concert hall, the gravity defying Skylon sculpture and, in nearby Battersea Park, a pleasure garden with funfair rides.
Commemorative stamp; 
postcard of The Skylon, with fountains and Westminster in the distance. mp postage stamps
Today, there remains some debate about the Festival’s legacy if not its overall success; detractors don’t fully believe the hype that the ‘Festival’ or ‘Contemporary’ style the event launched was as in uential as claimed (others say it simply took a little time to catch on). One thing we can be certain of, however, is the way the Festival caught the nation’s imagination – and has remained there for over 70 years. Helped along by Abram Games’ iconic modern branding, and its heraldic, geometric motifs, the Festival celebrated British cra smanship and innovation. At a time when designers such as Charles and Ray Eames, Eero Saarinen and Florence Knoll in America, Arne Jacobsen, Finn Juhl and Hans Wegner in Denmark, and Gio Ponti, Ico Parisi and Gaetano Sciolari in Italy were demonstrating the elegant possibilities of mid-century modernism, it sent a clear message that Britain’s designers, and their ‘New Elizabethan’ clients, could be just as exciting and progressive.
The Dansette Record Player
Launched in 1952, these British-made record players took on iconic status over the subsequent decade, with the advent of rock ‘n’ roll and the rise of Teddy Boys and wider teen culture. They were also a sign of the dominant influence America had on British society in the 1950s (a trend driven by rising TV ownership and the popularity of cinema-going). ‘Not only did our homes and clothes start reflecting what we were seeing on screen, but they started sounding like them too,’ says Louis Platman, Assistant Curator at the Museum of the Home. ‘In the early 1950s, American crooners like Perry Como (and, from the mid Fifties, rock ‘n’ roll stars like Jerry Lee Lewis, Chuck Berry and Elvis Presley) were what the nation was listening to and, by the middle of the decade, the Dansette had taken residence in many British living rooms.’
Daintily styled, with spindly legs and pastel colours, the Dansette was also a reflection of its owners’ lighter, sunnier outlook. ‘All furniture was getting lighter,’ says Lucy Ryder Richardson. ‘Everything was about taking away the heaviness and making tables and chairs look as though they were floating. Furniture took up so much space before. Now people were trying to create more space. There were beautiful kitchens, designed with Formica, in bright yellows and oranges. People wanted to feel optimistic again.’
The Antelope Chair
Ernest Race
One of the key characteristics of the Festival of Britain was its attempt to highlight science and scientific, or futuristic, forms. This wasn’t solely because of great scientific and astronomical strides taking place at the time. The dropping of atomic bombs onto Hiroshima and Nagasaki, and the Cold War threat, had dented public belief in its benefits and there was a feeling that technological advances needed some positive reframing. Hence, many of the Festival’s designs for furniture, furnishings and fittings were based on magnified atoms and molecules and the crystalline structures of minerals and metals.
‘Apparent in things like John Tunnard’s atomic mural and in tea sets and textiles designed under the remit of the Festival Pattern Group, one of the most high-profile examples of the theme is Ernest Race’s Antelope chair, with its little rounded ‘atomic’ feet and steel rods holding the chair together playing on molecular structures,’ says Helen Peavitt, Curator at the Science Museum (where the collection includes an Antelope chair). ‘There was a trinity of things working together –a more optimistic, futuristic style of design, new materials coming onto the market (used on their own or in tandem with materials such as aluminium, which there was then a glut of, thanks to the war effort) and new mass-production techniques that all kicked in in the 1950s. Ernest Race was deliberately keying into all three things when he designed the Antelope chair.’
Calyx Fabric
Lucienne Day
The Festival’s predecessor, the Britain Can Make It exhibition of 1946, had been dubbed ‘Britain Can’t Have It’ when visitors realised most items were only prototypes. ‘Its muted reception put enormous pressure on the Festival of Britain to work and to take London, specifically, from black and white into colour,’ says Elisabeth Bogdan of Sotheby’s Institute of Art.
That the Festival did exactly that is due to many factors but Lucienne Day and her Calyx fabric are two of the most significant. Involved in the Festival on several levels, not only was Day showing textiles and wallpapers at the event but, along with her husband Robin – commissioned to design the seating for Royal Festival Hall as well as signage and two of the room settings in the Homes and Gardens pavilion – she was part of its overall messaging.
Her Calyx textile design ‘serendipitously landed’ into this setting, says Elisabeth. With support from Heal’s, Day’s work had already moved on from earlier, more conservative designs, but when the botanically based Calyx made its appearance at the Festival it was revolutionary. Introducing elemental abstraction to British textile design, ‘not only did Calyx have a fantastic impact on public taste but it also had a long-lasting effect on post-war industrial design,’ says Elisabeth. ‘Not necessarily because everyone immediately rushed out to buy it. What 1951 was so key for was getting Britons in the groove, even if that was still going to take a while.’
The Kaymet Tray
Still popular today, Kaymet’s anodised aluminium trays and trolleys were first designed in the aftermath of the Second World War. The company’s founder, Sydney Schreiber, was looking for products he could make with the machinery he’d used to produce radar boxes during the War; Kaymet’s iconic homewares were the answer he came up with. Shown at the Festival of Britain (and subsequently used on the Royal Yacht during The Queen’s coronation tour in 1954), while we tend to associate the trolleys with cocktail parties and the joyful new national mood, the truth is slightly more prosaic; having a drinks trolley at home would have been a more frugal way to socialise than going out and, in any case, many weren’t used for drinks at all but for wheeling in desserts or tea and cakes.
‘My granny had a 1950s Kaymet tray and I was pretty excited whenever I saw it,’ says Lucy Ryder Richardson, cofounder of Modern Shows®. ‘I thought it looked so fabulous. It was the only gold thing in her house. There was still rationing but, at last, psychologically, you were allowed to celebrate. It was all about the excitement of more is more.
I don’t think people actually drank that much in the 1950s but the middle classes were starting to travel and they were bringing back bottles from the places they’d been to as souvenirs – disgusting green menthol or coffee liqueurs that they rarely drank. It was more about showing off these souvenir bottles.’
Meanwhile elsewhere…
Florence Knoll, USA Introduced in 1948, the Hairpin Stacking Table was a compact design, consisting of a steel base and laminate top.
Arne Jacobsen, Denmark Arne designed the Ant chair in 1952 initially for use in a canteen. Because it was strong yet lightweight, it caught on as a practical, stackable piece.
Gio Ponti, Italy Architect and artist Gio Ponti came up with a chic design for a stool with arms for Cassina in 1953 – voilà model 687.
Charles & Ray Eames, USA The Eameses’ 1950 fibreglass chair was a revelation – shaped using a single piece of material, this chair was comfortable and customisable with different bases.
Jessie Tait’s striking Zambesi range, which was launched in 1954 for Midwinter’s aptly named Fashion ware collection.
Midwinter Pottery
‘The 1950s British home didn’t suddenly appear in the fully formed shape we think of today – all fitted, ice-cream-coloured kitchens, spidery-legged coffee tables and twintone Poole pottery coffee sets,’ says Louis Platman. ‘In new suburbs a more modern aesthetic was taking shape, but the reality for most people was a gradual shift from the Utility forms of the 1940s – heavy dark wood sideboards and earthy brown and green colour schemes – to the lighter, brighter pieces of the later 1950s.’
One of the key reasons for that eventual transition was the lifting, in 1952, of Utility Scheme restrictions that had governed the production and sale of everything from clothing to furniture during the Second World War – an attempt to save labour and materials. In the case of ceramics, those potteries still operating had been limited to making simple pieces produced without decoration (including Woods’ Beryl ware). After 1952, people started looking, instead, to potteries such as Midwinter, Hornsea and Poole. In 1953, Midwinter launched its Stylecraft ware, typified by fluid modern shapes and abstract, graphic designs. Along with Hugh Casson, and a young Terence Conran, one of Stylecraft’s most renowned designers was Jessie Tait. ‘The popularity of her colourful Homeweave, Primavera and Fiesta ranges – and the zebra-striped Zambesi range she produced in 1954 for the company’s Fashion ware – demonstrate vividly the nation’s newly optimistic, exuberant mood.’