ENDPAPERS

Armchair Diplomacy

B y LESLIE ADRIAN

'FURNITURE: says this frustrated and frustrating industry's Economic Re- view for 1964, 'is at present not a significant status symbol,' which in

these symbol-conscious days is damnation indeed. And it means—to cut out the jargon—that the Eng- lishman with money to spare will invest it in a new car, a holiday, a mechanised kitchen or even an all-channel TV set (in spite of BBC-2) before he even thinks about furniture. So it is hardly surprising that the furniture industry is suffering .from stunted growth and switchback sales graphs. Just in case anyone in furniture failed to get the message, Lord Snowdon bravely banged it home last week. In an uncompromising speech (proposing the toast at the annual dinner of the National Association of Retail Furnishers), he accused his hosts of underestimating the taste and intelligence of their public and failing to respond to the widespread demand for 'good modern sophisticated designs.'

Confirmation of this royal charge comes from a successful manufacturer, Leslie Leyton of Lazarus (makers of Uniflex). 'Had the public not become much more discerning we would not be able to sell the sort of furniture we make in the quantities we do.' (The furniture they make is modern, dignified and simple.) The audience for these accusations was well chosen, because while it is fashionable to deni- grate the manufacturers of domestic furniture, some of the responsibility for the present soggy state of the furniture market lies with the people who sell it. True, tortured shapes, shoddy finish,' treacly surfaces and 'traditional' designs are still , with us, but, as Professor Misha Black told the industry a few months ago at Eastbourne, 'Britain produces more furniture of a very high level of design than any other country in the world.' And as the public at Earls Court this week can see for themselves, British furniture can be clean- limbed and elegant without being second-class Scandinavian. Predictably, the Danish stand out- classed even the best British exhibits, but there was one foreign display at the show which out- mocked even the worst of our own Tudor and Jacobean mockeries.

Unfortunately, it is the mockeries (period and Scandinavian) which clutter up so many British shops. Go shopping for a fridge, a telly or a scooter, and the chances are that by the end of the week you will be refrigerating, viewing or scooting. But go out looking for an armchair that is slim, simple and comfortable, and unless you have a pool-winner's luck you will still be sitting on the floor three months later—and largely because the retailer is sitting down on his job.

As this is a fragmented craft industry with more than 1,500 manufacturers (45 per cent of them employing fewer than 10 men), the retailers condition the furniture trade. Yet too few of them make any attempt to guide the manufac- turer by gauging public taste or forecasting de- mind, while too many act merely as ordering agencies, keeping samples rather than stock. Of course, there are the enlightened pace-makers who, as Lord Snowdon said, 'maintained the reputation of British furniture not by dropping their sights to the lowest common denominator of the public, but by making their customers raise theirs.' But the majority are cautious to the point-of cowardice, discouraging enterprise, de- riding good design and promoting mediocrity.

The training of sales staff is still in its infancy in the retail side of furnishing and after- sales service a sick joke. Some people who would normally pay cash buy furniture on hire pur- chase as a way of ensuring attention from the shop if there is anything wrong with the furniture when it is delivered. (Defects may not be the retailer's fault, but they are his responsibility.)

It is hardly surprising that some of the most forward-looking manufacturers are giving re- tailers the go-by and that there are even murmurs of direct selling in the air. Certainly some of the most impressive furniture designing is being done directly for architects who, for the first time since the eighteenth century, are attending to the in- terior detail as well as the exterior form of our great public buildings. Hille, for instance, one of the few British furniture makers whose designs and workmanship can hold their own in com- petition with the cream of the international mar- ket, have given op the unequal struggle with the shopkeepers and now make almost exclusively for architects on contract, though they will make for the domestic market on special order. 'When we first abandoned expensive repro. and went modern, the retailers thought we were off our rockers,' Mr. Julius, one of Hille's managing directors, told me. And what a reflection it is on the judgment and competence of the villains of this piece that Conran (the most elegantly and sturdily British of British designers) has found it necessary to open his own shop, Habitat.

One of Terence Conran's many battles with shopkeepers has been over 'knock-down' furni- ture (furniture with specially designed joints which enables it to be broken down into its com- ponent parts, packed fiat and quickly re- assembled) which he is trying to pioneer in Britain. The arguments in favour of this system of furniture building, already commonplace on the continent, are irresistible (though they are being resisted bravely by both manufacturers and retailers; especially retailers). Being flat, it takes less space in transport and storage, it is easier to protect from damage and simpler to man- handle out of vans and into houses—in other words, the initials 'KID' spell cost-cutting and con- venience. They could also make furniture more fun to buy. Two or three months of that waiting-to-get-it-home feeling may prevent us from impulse-buying, but it also kills the fun that should be part of furnishing a home. And who knows, if the fun could come back into furniture, it might even become a status symbol again?

With splendid timing, to celebrate the peak of the coughs and sneezes season (laughingly known as the spring term), Gaits Toyshop (30 Great - Marlborough Street, WI) have produced an ex- cellent leaflet on 'Toys and Ideas for Sick Children.' Not only will it be useful to parents of a really sick child, but its sound common sense will help the mother of a temporarily ill or con-

on-

valescent child. It is when the worst is over, and a child is recovering—at one moment hilarious, the next in tears—that a mother is really driven frantic.

Facing the fact that in any young family some illness is inevitable, an adjustable cantilever table for going over the bed is a most practical in- vestment. Available at Harrods from £4 9s., or perhaps more attractive for sybaritic breakfasts in bed (but also more expensive), a bed tray from Lord. Roberts Workshops (opposite Har- rods) from £6 I5s. 6d.

The most important thing to remember is that a sick child needs toys that appeal to the age- group he has just outgrown. He is in no state to be challenged and a puzzle that proves too difficult invariably results in tears of frustration. Avoid anything that involves too much concen- tration—or the assistance of an adult. Rather gaudy cheap toys (but make sure they are safe) give untold pleasure at times like this, but my nomination for best buy for practically any age is still Lego. Scrap-books and an old magazine are always a success, while magic painting books, tracing and colouring books, plasticine (if you can bear it) and children's records. preferably twelve-inch, are well worth the money.

And for harassed mum—an (almost!) infallible recipe for avoiding constant yells for attention. Put an alarm clock by the child's bed set to go off in fifteen minutes' time and promise to come and play when it rings—but keep your promise.