A 19th-century Scottish home

By Serena Fokschaner

Published: Monday, 21 November 2022 at 12:00 am

For Jennifer Bristow-Smith, an antique textiles dealer who originally studied sculpture and textiles, it is the history of printed wares that intrigues her the most. ‘I’m a hunter-gatherer, not a collector. I like finding things and then researching their story. Textiles offer a tangible link with past lives. We all live with fabric – be it a rug, or bed cover – so we can all relate to it.’

Jennifer’s provenanced wares are not cheap. ‘Although some dealers buy from me, my main clients are collectors, historians and designers, who know their stuff.’ Some buy the rarer pieces to reproduce the designs; others to make cushions or for upcycling. A set of 18th-century panels block-printed in Coromandel, a former Dutch colony in southern India, recently found its way to an Indian historian who is writing about the subject. ‘But I’ll often buy things just because they look interesting. Sometimes they’re valuable, sometimes not.’

The hub of her enterprise is the handsome Victorian house in Kirkcudbright, Scotland, where she lives with her husband, Laurence, a diplomat turned historian. They bought it 15 years ago, while posted in Milan. Built for a prosperous local solicitor in 1890, the house was in reasonably good shape. Inside, all it needed were cosmetic tweaks, as well as the luxury of five new bathrooms and a great deal of bookshelves. Outside, gardens tumble down to a wide, tidal river.

Her business began when they moved into the house with a depleted bank balance. ‘While we were in Milan, I’d begun buying textiles in markets or antiques shops.’ Then a friend suggested she try selling them at a local car boot sale. ‘It was a disaster,’ says Jennifer. ‘People were offering £2 for something worth £50.’ So she turned to selling on eBay, with greater success.

Visiting a local auction a few days later, she spotted a box of antique Irish lace. She put in a ‘measly’ bid of £30 and ‘forgot about it. A few days later they called me. I had won it. I knew nothing about lace, but in the lot there was a book with a list of all the lace, who it belonged to, the dates and types of lace. At that time I had no idea about the difference between Brussels or Irish lace. I started to read about antique lace, sorted out the collection, and it all sold on eBay for exceptionally good prices. My business took off from there.’

When textiles began to overtake the house – heaped on tables, or jammed in cupboards – the couple turned their attention to converting the outhouses. A former stables, where a groom once lived above the hayloft, is now a bright workroom and double-height studio where Jennifer sorts, cleans and prepares her textiles for sale. Antique French tea towels, in jaunty stripes, flutter from the drying racks, and jars of hand-carved mother-of-pearl buttons gleam from jars.

Shelves are lined with books about embroidery, lace, ribbons, quilts, toile de Jouy… ‘It’s not just fabric that intrigues me but the things around it: costume, passementerie, haberdashery. One of my most interesting finds was a Columbine costume; it had silk petals and red silk boots with gilded heels.’ The label revealed it had been made by a leading London couturier, who once dressed Princess Alexandra for an Edwardian house party when she staged amateur dramatics.

Some of Jennifer’s earliest memories involve textiles. Her father was in the RAF and she had a peripatetic childhood, growing up in Malaysia and Cyprus. She remembers the vibrant costumes of the Peking opera performers in Penang, and the vibrant Batik fabrics in markets. Boarding school in 1970s Scotland, by contrast, was grim. After art school she escaped. First to Scandinavia, where she worked as an artist and curator, learning about local textile traditions. Then, craving sunshine, she headed to Marrakech, where she drew on her sculptural training to restore houses. ‘It was all about materials: terracotta tiles, glazed Tadelakt walls and handwoven fabrics,’ she says.

Textiles inevitably spill into this house, adding to its well-travelled air. Everything has been put to work. The kitchen banquette is covered in French ticking; the cushions made from German grain sacks. Cotton reels have become sturdy hooks. The bedrooms are named after famous diplomats: Curzon, Lansdowne, Balfour and Nicolson, with appropriate books, photos and framed letters. The books are bought by the box, ‘much to the horror of our local bookseller,’ to bring a blaze of colour to pale walls. In one room there was no space for a wardrobe, so Jennifer painted a faux one, adding hooks for dressing gowns.

Jennifer travels to southern France regularly, to scour the markets. ‘I find fewer good textiles in northern France, perhaps because, during the Second World War, many of the grand houses and chateaux were plundered.’ She knows many of the dealers and her clients’ wants. One stitches antique glass beads into glamorous wedding dresses; another makes slouchy jackets from grain sacks; and the 18th-century embroidered waistcoats are snapped up by a dandified Londoner. In the world of textiles there is something for everyone, whatever your whim.

"A
Jennifer’s Victorian stone-built house, which is surrounded by a large garden with herbaceous borders, an orchard and vegetable garden.
"A
The entrance hall with original Victorian encaustic tiles and oak settle of the same period.
"A
Antique printed fabrics from Jennifer’s business, Starched & Crumpled.
"A
The entrance hall retains the original panelling.
"A
Above the neat stacks of Victorian leather luggage cases hang framed photographs from 19th and early 20th-century Malaysia (the previous owner was a rubber planter in Malaysia, and Jennifer lived there for several years as a child).
"A
In the stairwell stands a mannequin covered with antique linen.
"A
‘We designed and had the bookcases in the living room made by a local carpenter. Above the fireplace I used pages from a Victorian dictionary as wallpaper,’ says Jennifer. The glass lightshades are from Tinsmiths.
"A
In the master bedroom, the quilt on the bed is a 19th-century French fenêtre hand-stitched piqué quilt made from block-printed cottons. The framed images are lithograph illustrations from a damaged 19th-century book of costume from various regions of India.
"A
A handsome Victorian chest of drawers in a twin guest room.
"A
Another view of the four-poster bed and hand-stitched piqué quilt in the main bedroom. Jennifer buys books in bulk from her local bookseller to add colour to neutral walls.
"A
The twin guest room is a calm space with elegant toile de Jouy blinds and a linen-covered armchair.
"A
Pretty single beds with painted wooden headboards and matching toile de Jouy quilts in the twin guest room. A low-hanging French chandelier and Victorian cabinet add the finishing touches.
"A
A converted outhouse has become the hub of a busy, international enterprise filled with related finds like the oversized 19th-century tailor’s cutting shears, or the hand-carved antique buttons in jars used to replace missing buttons on antique costume.
"A
A neatly stacked storage area in the studio with blue linens, mattress tickings and other woven and printed fabrics.
"A
A corner of the studio with an antique French mirror, chandelier and busts used to display antique bonnets and lace for sale.
"A
Glass jars of buttons, garment tapes and small haberdashery items.
"A
In the studio, boxes of thread, trims, lace and ribbons sit alongside antique linen sheets, ticking fabric and bolts of 19th-century German and French linen. The mannequins are useful for displaying costume from different eras. The open shelves and desk were made by a local carpenter.
"A
Glass domes traditionally would have been used for 19th-century French wedding presentations with wax wedding crowns. Jennifer’s son’s old Steiff teddy bear looks on from a tiny chair atop an antique Norwegian cupboard.