TV's favourite home decor guru Laurence Llewelyn-Bowen knows a thing or two about style . . . so why does he think Posh Spice ain't posh and Becks is? And what's his problem with Dublin's Morrison Hotel? Jillian Bolger asks the questions
IS IT possible to write about Laurence Llewelyn-Bowen without using the word 'flamboyant'? Having become a living embodiment of said adjective I half expected Mr LL-B to be caricature-like in the flesh, all big cuffs and big hair, theatrics and conceit.
He didn't disappoint on the hair and cuffs front, cutting a dash in a smart three-piece black suit with an iPod poking from his waistcoat pocket. He'd recently pressed pause on Cecilia Bartoli, a vivacious mezzosoprano who he describes as a "very horny lady" singing Opera Prohibita, music that was banned by the Vatican in the 18th century.
Laurence, it seems, likes big music to go with that big hair and cuffs. "My music collection is about celebrating diversity, " he explains, scrolling through film scores, Debussy, Shirley Bassey and Groove Armada. "Because my PA downloaded the tunes I can go from an incredibly introspective Bach suite into 'I see you baby shaking that ass'."
Having come to the public's attention in 1996 as a designer on Changing Rooms, the BBC's home makeover show, Laurence quickly made his mark as master of frivolity, favouring loud colour schemes, grandiose themes and MDF fashioned into whimsical rococo features. Before moving from designer to presenter of Changing Rooms, he teamed up with Irish garden designer Diarmuid Gavin on Homefront. Their comical on-screen spats entertained over six million viewers a week.
When Changing Rooms finished its hugely successful run in 2004, he reappeared in 2005 as anchorman of the BBC's Holiday programme, a post he still holds today. Those who had written him off as a one-trick pony were probably unaware of his successful collaborations with many UK brands for whom he designed everything from cutlery, furniture, wallpaper and bed linen to bathroom suites, lampshades, tableware and carpets as well as running a flourishing design company with his wife, Jackie.
Far from being mere TV totty, Laurence's CV reveals a driven work ethic that made sure he didn't disappear between the cracks of some reclaimed floorboards post Changing Rooms. "I'm very lucky in that I've made a fortune being me. I've never had to fit a role on television and I've hit everything at exactly the right time." Despite being voted '81st sexiest man on the planet' by Cosmopolitan readers and scooping the 'Favourite Home TV Celebrity' award three years in a row, I confess that I've never understood the cult of Laurence. Until now, that is.
In the flesh he's far more handsome (although definitely not my kind of sexy) and far more likeable. Where I'd expected conceit I find confidence, vanity I find humility, pretentiousness I find intelligence. Erudite and engaging, Laurence is a master at selling himself to the widest possible audience.
His interior products sell out here before they ever do in the UK and he's recently launched the new Meadows & Byrne home store on the Malahide Road. "Ireland is an incredibly fertile market. When my ranges started selling out here, Diarmuid Gavin commented that it was because the Irish have no taste. But I felt quite defensive, as the Irish are a lot more original and individualistic in their style. You don't have this English obsession with taste with a capital 'T' and you're much more open to interpreting styles."
Taste is highly subjective, as anyone who ever tuned in to Bowen's frequently outlandish makeovers, will testify. "The principal issue is that you shouldn't really own anything that's ugly or crap, but who's to say what's ugly and what's crap. There are times when doing oak panelling like this would have been sneered at and considered crap, " he observes, glancing admiringly around the arts and crafts |interior of Dublin's Clarence Hotel.
"We all abandoned this place when the Morrison opened, because we thought it was old-fashioned and dark. In fact, this place is grown-up and a bit elegant while the Morrison is so scruffy. An oak wall after 10 years is going to look loved while a white plaster wall will just look rubbish. The Morrison was a bit wannabe while this place is probably one of the poshest hotels in the world."
Laurence is keen to talk about posh because he's peddling his latest book, A Pinch of Posh.
Co-written with his wife, it's a tongue-in-cheek 'guide to being civilised' that aims to rid this world of scruffy folk, fake Gucci bags and inappropriate behaviour.
"People use the word 'posh' very deliberately as a confrontational thing. It has the false etymology of 'Port Out, Starboard Home', but in essence posh means you've made an effort and scrubbed up." Hence Laurence's belief that posh is a good thing and that he is a plausible example. "I'm posh because I'm a classless being and I try really hard not to inherit other people's prejudices. Also I work really hard with whatever I've got to polish it until it shines. Whether that's the way I look, my life, books I write or television programmes I make, I work very, very hard to get them as good as possible.
"People who try a little bit harder for themselves, and, ultimately for other people, are the kind of people that are worth getting to know. People who walk down the street having not washed, wearing a tracksuit, being Jordan, eating a pasty, these are people with very, very low self-esteem.
"This hotel oozes self-esteem. You walk through the door and you immediately feel much better. You go somewhere like the Morrison and it weighs down on you and intimidates you."
According to Laurence's criteria, money can't buy you posh credentials, and he dislikes the pretenders as much as the plebs. "Victoria Beckham's definitely not posh, " he guffaws at my question, "whereas David is inordinately. He's very happy to be himself, is incredibly good at what he does and works very, very hard. Some might say too hard at what he wears when you see some of the extraordinary outfits he comes out in.
"David tries to please people with how he looks and what he does, but she doesn't. She dresses to please herself and that's why she looks deeply unhappy, why she never smiles, and why she's not anybody's role model."
For the moment it doesn't look like he's about to slip off the paparazzi radar any time soon though, and he's openly happy to remain the thinking woman's pin-up boy. "There's something immensely positive about people coming up to you and recognising you and saying hello. "Fame either makes you more happy about yourself . . . it's like being affirmed . . . or else leaves you looking into this carnival of distorted mirrors that are showing you someone you don't want to be. In which case you're in the wrong bloody job."
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