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Since I heard of Robert Kime's passing, I have felt tremendous sadness. Comparable to my feeling when David Bowie died. Men who have inexplicably made my world a happier, more beautiful place to inhabit. Whose work sits at the forefront of my mind, easily grabbed for influence and comfort. I feel so extraordinarily sad about the passing of Robert Kime because I had the opportunity to know him and always felt too shy & a little star-struck to speak to him. He did once agree to be interviewed by me, a chance I grabbed at. I was writing an article about my mother, Liz Elliot, and I wanted Robert's input. Not only was my mother a fan of his work, but they also had a wonderful working relationship filled with laughter, teasing, and a mutual appreciation of beautiful interiors. On the day of my interview, I walked into The Robert Kime shop on Ebury Street and sat waiting for Robert. Sweaty palmed, and sweaty-faced. He sat down and kindly put up with my amateur, mumbling. I never really found my stride and felt quite out of my depth all the way through. Right at the end, I made a stab at a joke, he kindly laughed, and I felt all had not been lost. On my exit from the shop, I looked at my phone where I had been recording; my sweaty palms had let me down and slipped on the record button. All I had was my incredibly high-pitched voice (a horrid side effect to my nerves), introducing myself and then silence. I ran to the nearest coffee shop and quickly wrote everything I could.

More recently, I was again at the shop on Ebury Street for a party. I was a little less nervous than on my first visit but still excited about being there. Not only because of the design of the shop and the guests in attendance, but predominantly because of the people who work there; a warm, dynamic bunch who had not only helped Robert carry on producing great designs, fabrics and products but also helped create the inviting atmosphere that surrounds that marvellous shop. So much so that I feel such comfort walking through that door. The world outside can feel so crummy, whilst inside you are whisked away to the Robert Kime world. A world that might not be easily duplicated, but all collectors can be inspired by it.

'I have never seen myself as a decorator. You could call me an assembler. I like to go bit by bit, but I don't have an initial plan, I don't do drawings, and I don't know how to do a proper design. I just think a lot about what works next to something else. I love things that don't match, and I want my rooms to be lived in, not to be looked at.' (interview with Robert Kime on 1stDibs)

As I discussed with my mother, you always wish the person who has passed could see the influence that they have had on the world. Seeing Instagram over the last few days makes it very clear his impact is long-lasting and far-reaching. My thoughts are with his family, friends and those who worked with him.


Below Are Some Of My Favourite Of His Rooms Taken From The Robert Kime Website.

Built in 1703 for the second Duke of Beaufort, Swangrove, sits on the edge of Badminton Park and had been long let to tenants, when Robert was asked by the then Duke of Beaufort in 1996 to bring the building back to its original function and utility creating a comfortable and handsome house.

A London project that takes a well-proportioned set of rooms, resonant to an architectural style to create an environment that is companion to the heritage the architect envisioned. The client wanted a light-filled setting, but described a wish for a jewel-box effect.

An eclectic art collection provided the direction for this extensive architectural planning and interior design project in an Edwardian townhouse in Kensington. The project began with the office/guest cottage in the mews behind the house - and once complete, moved onto the main building.

The Wiltshire farmhouse was an agglomeration of an early stone walled two-up, two-down onto which a late eighteenth, early nineteenth century brick building had been grafted. In 1910 a flint walled kitchen and three Lutyens-like gables completed the scene. A complete refashioning was completed to create a manageable house and garden under the spectre of the Roman fort.

When La Gonette was acquired in 1999, this house was a "perfect ruin" - a sound roof with a magical facade and hundred foot terrace, but no floors nor much for doors or walls. Not deterred, by the project's end the burnt-out shell had been transformed into a magnificent house, full of comfort, attention to the vernacular style and rivalled gardens.

An 18th century building with fine proportions and a good staircase; only the front had been doctored in the 19th century, sits a hundred yards from the British Museum. Within view of the eccentric steeple of nearby Saint George’s Bloomsbury, a glass ceiling was inserted by Robert at the far end of the ground floor of the building so this remarkable Hawksmoor church built in the late 1720s could be easily admired.

Originally a modest bergerie, sheltering a goat herd and flock, by 1880 it had grown into a farm with a courtyard, a basse-cour and outbuildings. High in the valley in Provence, the design project demanded an understanding of the building’s origins and the client’s enthusiasm for the house as it stood and it’s historical importance.

Ardagh, in County Cork, is a beautifully built granite cottage, with rough-cast render and a two up, two down floor plan. Originally built by an Englishman in the mid-nineteenth century; high ceilings and spacious rooms provided good scope for a holiday home.

South Wraxall Manor, is a venerable house in Wiltshire, with the earliest parts of the house dated to the 15th century and nothing later than 1650. The ensuing two-year restoration, decoration and furnishing project stands today as a strong testament to the relationship between designer, client, architect and restorer.



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