Do these words define a new sensibility, wonders Kishore Singh, swimming in a fog of martinis at Varya.
The minimal look, several years late in coming to India, severely abused by designers, and at odds with our cities and architecture and lifestyles, can now RIP. Because, finally, there does appear to be an alternative that might just free Indian design from the malaise of sameness and the jaded grip of boredom with which it had been saddled over the last decade.
As furniture showrooms and accessories stores sprung up across the cities characterised by excess rather than good sense and design aesthetics, Indian interiors — at least individualised in a previous phase by a look that was either colonial, or (that horrid term) “ethnic”, or country house, or formal — disappeared, to be replaced by carbon copies of (seemingly) mass-produced interiors that erased all sense of identity.
The opening of Varya, the new design and home store, in the heart of the capital, this weekend, is a pointer to the eclectic design selection that will probably characterise the new (and fresh) design outlook that we’re likely to see developing in India over the next years. In itself, Varya’s outlook is hardly radical, and it takes off from what we’ve seen as other tired design trends over the years — the low-coffee-table, large-floor-cushion Thai signature style, the inlay-and-figurine Indonesian look, even the overstuffed-chesterfields of ye olde England.
As it consigns minimalism to the dustbin of history, the new, more substantial look is a reflection of the confident Indian — Asia is rising, so the look is Asian; there’s no more diffidence about the future of the country, so the design language is contemporary; and because India, or Indians — whether traditional or modern — form the sum of so many parts, the result you’re most likely to see is an eclectic hybrid.
It’s partly how Varya was formed. Two promoters, Charles Orchard and James Newbould, are Englishmen who, as colonialists did best, decided to root about in interesting parts of the world, till they ended up with their own factories making furniture in Bali. The third partner, Bindu Vadera, is Indian and their sounding board in India, and the one who will drive Varya in the country — a second store is planned in Bangalore, a third location is yet undecided.
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On a day when the rain is creating puddles in Delhi and invitations for a martini opening are being rushed to the city’s jet-set, Orchard & Co are in a mild state of panic — mattresses haven’t been delivered, the glass top for a jigsaw puzzle of a coffee table is late, an elbow sends a hand-painted plate crashing. But, stiff upper lip in place, Newbould inventories the store, talks of pieces he’s done for Ralph Lauren and Asprey, using the raw materials and the technology available in Indonesia — there’s a fantastic occasional table overlaid with shagreen (stingray skin to you and me) and an Art-Deco chair with handcrafted arms made of horn, and leather chests.
Though Newbould and Orchard own their own factories, they complement and work together as designers and suppliers to, mostly, hospitality companies: from Four Seasons and Taj, Starwood and Bvlgari hotels to the homes of the rich and the famous. The result is a collection for the store here, and for their projects in general, where they supply from their own factories as well as source across the world, but mainly Asia, and interestingly also from India. So, there’s a slab of teak, polished but not trimmed into the obligatory rectangle or square, part of what can only be likely one-offs, a favourite of Orchard’s, who also handpicks a steel and leather “James Bond” armchair as something he might want for himself, or various textured cabinet doors made with cork or bark or other interesting parts of trees and foliage that, he says, have been developed into high art in Bali but are as yet new to the subcontinent. Orchard knows his designs — after all, he does count George Clooney and Elizabeth Hurley among his clients.
Vadera handpicks a tray in which parts of a beehive have been set as a motif, or large bowls made with reconstituted eggshell, waves towards a chest set with mirrors, and when she walks past a steel and leather lounge chair, you can almost imagine her reclining on it with a book, soft light streaming in from a window, as she reaches out for a beverage from a Sevres crystal glass. The true-blue might never condescend to use that ugly hoi-polloi term “crystal” — everything is, simply, “glass” — but, yes, what Varya has, in addition to its furniture (give or take the slightly tacky, inlaid resin tables from the Philippines — an odd choice in the overall ensemble) are the other staples of home stores around the world: glassware and tableware, accessories, odd bits, throws, linen, coffee table books, furnishings, and uniting it all, a clever strand to bind the look together, its collection of Indian art.
The glassware is Cristal de Serves, the faience pottery is hand-painted, from Gien, the cutlery from Cutipol is Portuguese, the fine linen comes from India, the silver has been selected by Vadera, though supplies also come from Sambonet in Italy, there are fake fur throws and sparkly cushion covers, picture frames and tea trays, coloured candles and also those carved into fantastic shapes (from France), and the kind of cabin trunks that were once essential for when you sailed by sea, but which are now cloned as Portobello Road jumble sale collectibles used less for storage and more as side tables.
Assembled even higgledy-piggledy together, they lend credibility to the idea of Asian consumption and design in a continent that was once an entrepot of everything from ideas to merchandise from around the world. Yet, not everything is classical. “The look can be fun,” says Orchard, pointing to a side table that resembles nothing more than a grove of bamboos. “It can be a little bit mad,” chips in Newbould, and there’s enough evidence of the quirky and the maverick. “It’s definitely young,” says Vadera, and its astonishing how the assemblage is both formal and informal, defining the new look for Indians, even though the well-heeled at the launch were not entirely convinced. “This,” said one designer, referring in particular to the furniture, “is the kind of stuff you see on the streetside in Bali — where’s the design input in it?”
If Bali, and indeed Bangkok, are centres for design, in avoiding overstuffed, heavy furniture, the Asian treatment at Varya has been highlighted through its use of woods and other materials — whether metal or synthetic — that allow the designers a flexibility to combine opposites so they are held together by a sensibility that is both modern as well as Asian. His hands running lightly over the stingray table, Newbould’s eyes are indolent with the nostalgia of remembered tales of design, “Paris in the twenties and thirties,” he speaks softly, “had a sense of opulence” — not the bright, chintzy, ritzy Cabaret or Moulin Rouge look that designers invariably but wrongly choose, but the mad elegance and inner-club informality of The Great Gatsby, evoked momentarily in the interiors of the refurbished palaces of the maharajas in India in the gaps between the two wars — “this was how it looked,” he sighs.
Newbould might be right in bits but if there’s anything that Indians can take away from Varya (besides the merchandise), it’s three words: Asian. Contemporary. Eclectic. And as some others point out: even maybe a streetside-meets-high-club sense of design — and culture.
