David Mellor
I USED TO FIND the concept of ‘design’ a bit…well, irritating. It’s hard to explain why, other than I felt it to be wreathed in the kind of reverential rhetoric that’s the opposite of the workaday, the relatable and, dare I say it, the comfortably English. Or so I assumed until I discovered David Mellor.
No, I don’t refer to the former Tory minister. I mean the glittering jewel-box of a shop that’s occupied the same premises on the corner of Sloane Square since 1969, and which has flown the flag for the best of British craftsmanship ever since. Favoured by a multi-generational cognoscenti – today’s devotees are the grandchildren of those who first bought in to the Mellor magic, although latterly they’re augmented by new customers from Japan and South Korea – its extensive range of kitchenware and tableware is unified by a quality of understated beauty that, first, begs to be handled and, second, demands to be taken home. It helps that the aesthetic is so thoroughly integrated. From the door to the display cases, Mellor himself was responsible for the look of his flagship store. Scarcely touched for more than a half a century, it’s broken through the sound barrier of fleeting ‘fashion’ to achieve ‘iconic’ status. Whether in steel, glass, pottery or wood, much the same can be said of its timeless and thoroughly seductive merchandise – which, in case you wonder, is surprisingly and pleasingly affordable.
See also: Liberty, Pentreath & Hall
