The chances are, vigilant readers of interiors magazines will feel they know Helen Green. Few designers relish being categorized or pigeonholed, but Helen’s work has a definite and distinctive flavour- the careful orchestration of neutrals; the layering of soft, natural textures; the influence of Art deco and pre-war Hollywood glamour; chic bespoke cabinetry inlaid with nickel and faux ivory; a certain flamboyance in the lighting department. So far as it goes, this is an accurate assessment. What is inevitable missing from conclusions drawn from photographs, however is any suggestion of the sensory qualities of her work – the prevailing calm that is deeply relaxing, the comfort and ease of her schemes: the undeniable luxe of it all. Helen green creates interiors that nod towards the elegance of past lifestyles: her style is assertively of-the-moment and wonderfully, seductively persuasive.

Helen Green lives with her husband Harry Pashall in a house in South Kensington. They moved in two years ago and spent a year on refurbishment. The house was in good refurbishment and structurally sound. Helen indulged in some building work – remodelling the top floor, previously a gym; it now includes two spare bedrooms and a discreet ‘kitchenette’ – but not much. This house is Helen and Harry’s long-term option: they will not be moving in a hurry. Helen employs a team of 15 at her office at Chelsea green. After 15 years in the business, she has her builders, fabric-hangers and cabinet-makers whom she trusts. The skills of each were brought to bear on this large, five-storey house, which she tailored to suit the way she and her husband live. Now the house provides extensive space for flexible entertaining and a selection of potentially self-contained areas for visiting family. Although Helen and Harry live mostly on the middle three floors, which contain the kitchen, a dining room in the basement, alongside a media room and spare bedroom. In addition to further spare bedrooms, the top floor includes Harry’s dressing room.

This is not a house of jolts or tricks. There are no surprises, no special effects, no flaunting ‘decorator’ details. Everything simply is – and because the look is so coherent it is hard to imagine anything ever being any different. Most of the furniture is new- the buyers of Helen and Harry’s previous house also bought the bulk of the contents. All the cabinetry and fittings, including baize-lined cupboards for china, silver and glass, and a tall drinks cabinet lined with the softest Alma leather, are bespoke; the taps and lamps came from California. Everything harmonizes, everything pleases the eye. But this is not a boring or predictable interior. In the sun-flooded first-floor drawing room, a nineteenth-century marine painting inherited from Helen’s father hangs against walls painted ‘Truffle’ by The Paint Library, it’s dark, rich mattness a perfect echo of the picture’s foamy, storm-tossed sea, In contrast to the deep gilt frame, the picture light is Perspex and uncompromisingly modern. The painting hangs above a sofa. Flanking the sofa, tables support sleek, definitely modern, coloured glass lamps. Over a central, black American walnut island unit in the kitchen hangs a whopping but nevertheless rather airy chandelier, an upside-down ziggurat of crystal drops. It is these notes of the unexpected that bring the house to life.

Helen and Harry entertain a lot. Off the kitchen is a small dining area with a table for up to six. In the garden, which is lit at night, a table can seat up to 10. In the basement, a circular table designed by Helen provides a definitely ‘grown-up’ setting for more formal entertaining. And since on each floor distinct spaces flow one into another – on the ground floor, for example, sitting room, kitchen and dining room all connect – the house lends itself easily to drinks parties. It is a house that works at night, lit by polished nickel wall sconces, a selection of unpredictable chandeliers, lamps with raw-silk shades in old gold and dull aubergine.

But during the day it is bright and sunny. Even on dull days, blue Bruno Triplet silk used to line the walls of Helen and Harry’s bedroom glows with the soft glint of the city sky outside; floor-to-ceiling French windows wash the dining area with sun; and the polished tropical hardwood of the shelves lining Helen’s study gleams with the rich warmth of new coffee beans. Sunlight picks out the bright, silvery stair rods laid against a charcoal runner, photograph frames in crystal and silver, the softest sheen of a fat slub-silk cushion, the snowy whiteness of the Thassos marble in Helen and Harry’s bathroom, pools of shimmering black in the verre eglomise mounts of engravings on the staircase wall. It catches a Venetian glass mirror frame, a nineteenth-century French jardinière full of hydrangeas, the mirror-glass panelling of a bath surround that appears to double the size of the bathroom, the crisscross faux-ivory inlay of a cabinet specially designed by Helen.

Since the background is neutral, it accommodates disparate elements- moody modern paintings and pretty antique drawings, big glass hurricane lamps and slender modern candlesticks, shelves of books recessed into the wall so that they read like wallpaper, a simple still life of Harry’s ivory hairbrushes and stud box. Hard and soft edges sit cheek by jowl: at the foot of Helens uncurtained four- poster bed, with its tapering square posts inlaid with nickel, is a button-backed sofa with silver damask cushions, a whisper of distant grandeur. Though the main bathroom suggests the sleek lines of the Thirties, it has air conditioning, variable light settings, a power shower and underfloor heating.



Although this is a tidy house, it is not so to the point of becoming unlivable. Plump sofas invite sitting and relaxing, there are books in the bookshelves and on coffee tables, the colours are practical. It is a house, you suspect, that is easy to run, easy to entertain in, easy to live in. Although Helen’s work on it only finished six months ago, it has a settled, permanent feeling. It is both timeless and distinctively of-the-moment, with its emphasis on comfort, quality and good looks. It allows for changes at a later date- further layers of colour, new texture, extra injections of pattern, like the Rug Company rug in the ground-floor sitting room. Helen is aware that in a designer’s own home, there is nowhere to hide, no client to blame for errors of judgement or taste. She knows that this is the interior on which she will be judged. And, understandable, she is quite happy about that.