Your Home: Whispers & Wishes by Fenella Smith
September, 2011
Your Home: Whispers & Wishes by Fenella Smith

Crockery designer Fenella Smith is a girl after my own heart. She adores beautiful, home-grown objects with elements of nostalgia; items that make daily life a little bit more delightful and that inspire your imagination or a memory when you look at them. Her tableware collections have all been inspired by a memory and each has its own tale to tell.

I have chosen to share the Whispers & Wishes Buttons Collection with you as I simply adore the story; it reminds me of a lady who was very important to me in my childhood. She had a fabulously glamorous past and I would spend hours in her company playing with her cats or helping in the garden, while she would tell me stories of debutante balls and London parties. I would often lie awake at night imagining myself as the protagonist of her wonderful tales and I sometimes still daydream about it when I have the chance!

I will leave you with some beautiful pictures of the range as well as the story behind it in Fenella’s own words. I would love to hear from you if you have an object that inspires a memory from your past or a nostalgic story you would like to share!

‘When I was a little girl we lived near a lady called Trudie, who was small and mysterious but warm, chatty and full of charm. She lived in a vast mansion with her silent husband Joe.

My mother and I would often drop in for a visit and I would invariably slink off in search of treasures. It was always chilly in the house, with dust floating in the chinks of light that streamed through the half-open shutters. Room after room was filled with vintage clothes and antique dress jewellery.  Trudie would sometimes watch me as I rummaged through her vast wardrobes and danced around, my arms laden with bracelets and charms. ‘Oh I wish I were young again,’ she would whisper, gazing wistfully at the dresses that held the secrets of her past.

There were also drawers brimming with buttons, old threads in vivid purples, pinks, blues and yellows still attached.

Trudie had eyes as dark as cocoa and an accent, a foreign one I can’t now place. I often wonder what secrets those buttons might have told of the life this beguiling old lady had once led and missed so greatly.’

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{Images courtesy of Fenella Smith}