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In October, I snapped up two matching pairs of Dutch floral striped curtains, with a “bonus” set of almost equally lovely embroidered curtains, at a local auction house for a mere £110 (with fees!). They were lined and in wonderful condition, with little in the way of fading and stains, and of the kind of fabric that would probably be priced at £200 a metre or more new. They were about 30cm too short to be hung up in the rooms I had in mind, but I figured I could have two of the matching pairs joined together or made into Roman blinds.
A £400 dry-cleaning bill and a warning from a curtain-maker that the labour involved in unstitching and remaking the curtains anew would “cost about the same as you would have paid for new fabric” later, and they are feeling a little less like a bargain.
Still, I love the colours and patterns, and I’m glad to be able to make use of something second-hand — there’s enough of the Dutch fabric to cover both large windows in the guest bedroom, a headboard and two small cushions. The second set I’m converting into a blind for the nursery.
In a future money-saving endeavour, however, I’d opt for rolls of unused fabric or curtains that were already the correct size, of which many can be found on eBay, Etsy, via Instagram dealers including Gail O’Reilly and Jack Laver Brister, or at Haines. If you’re inspired to do the same, start by searching for fabric makers you like — I have alerts set for Robert Kime, Bennison, Sanderson, Colefax and Fowler, Pierre Frey, Rose Uniacke and Soane.
I also wouldn’t go to the local dry-cleaner — and not just because they wildly overcharged. When it comes to hung fabric, “a good shake in the garden” should do the trick, says Meg Andrews, a dealer who established the costume and textiles department at Sotheby’s in London. Before buying, hold fabric up to the light to look for holes, tears and stains, and if you’re buying at auction, don’t rely on a condition report to spot them for you. Stains are difficult to remove from old fabrics, Andrews says, but “might diminish” if taken to a specialist cleaner. “Do not wash anything” yourself, she warns.
There are reasons beyond cost for bringing antique and vintage textiles into the home. Joanna Plant and the late Robert Kime are among the many interior designers who have used antique textiles to bring colour, warmth and texture into their living spaces and that of their interior design clients — laying antique rugs and kilims on the floor; hanging tapestries and suzanis on the walls; covering beds and sofas with quilts, Welsh blankets, cushions or thick linen sheets.
A fabric printed in a fresh, artificial dye can stick out like a sore thumb in a room full of antiques and, like oak or mahogany, textiles can develop a lovely patina over time (though I concede that yellowing silk is a look not even I like the look of). They can also beautifully and affordably cover an awkwardly wide or otherwise large blank wall — above a sofa or bed, say, or on a stairway landing. Andrews recommends hanging larger pieces of fabric, such as suzanis, from a curtain pole with a strip of sewn-in Velcro; a smaller piece could be taken to a textile dealer to have it applied to a wooden stretcher, which “looks taut and impressive” in place of a painting.
Old fabrics can also be repurposed into lampshades or cushions — saris are particularly good for the former — and to recover ottomans, headboards and chairs. For a cushion, you “don’t need much fabric”, says Katharine Pole, a dealer who specialises in antique French textiles. She will often work pieces of 18th and 19th-century tapestry or quilts into 60cm x 40cm or 50cm x 50cm cushions (give or take), backing them with a simple linen or cotton fabric if there isn’t enough to cover both sides. You’ll need about a metre of fabric for a lampshade, she says.
And what of dreaded moths? “They can be a big problem,” admits Andrews, who has lined her storage cupboards with specialist traps (she recommends the pheromone-impregnated kind) and regularly shakes out pieces, though she says moths tend to be more interested in her modern cashmere jumpers.
“Be vigilant,” Pole warns. “They are less likely to go for cotton or linen but it helps to learn their life cycles.” Andrews will occasionally put small pieces of fabric in the freezer to destroy eggs; and Pole will wash fabrics with savon de Marseille, which she buys in France.
Also essential to taking care? Keeping pieces out of the light, as old dyes weren’t colour-fast.
I will take my chances with the Dutch curtains — gently faded colours are among the traits that drew me to old textiles in the first place. Now I’m on the hunt for an old Durham quilt to go with them.
Lauren Indvik is the FT’s fashion editor
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