Our agony aunt and resident decorating expert Fiona McKenzie Johnston ponders just how much baby-proofing is necessary, and whether minimalism and children are mutually exclusive.
Dear Fiona,
My natural inclination, interiors wise, is John Pawson-style minimal. I’m talking clear spaces, and the minimum of stuff. I’m in my mid-forties, so I’ve had a long time to hone my preferences and perfect the open-plan split-level loft apartment that my husband and I live in, and I feel like it’s part of my identity. People comment on it, and say things like “oh, you’ve got to see A’s loft, it’s exquisite,” – and that’s really nice to hear.
But . . . I’ve also just had a baby – which is obviously glorious and he’s long wanted and it’s been a long journey to get here and I love him so much it’s almost frightening. However, people keep ‘helpfully’ telling me that I’m not going to be able to keep our apartment as it is – and that I shouldn’t, that this is a really precious time and I’ve got to embrace these baby years and everything that comes with it because they don’t last. Then, one person told me that my child wouldn’t be sufficiently stimulated in the space I’ve created because it’s too empty and monotone, and another told me that it’s dangerous – so now I am starting to worry. I’ve got a beautiful glass Mies van der Rohe coffee table; what if he hurts himself on it? There are sculptures on plinths, too, and I’m genuinely concerned that he might pull one over once he gets to that stage – for I am aware that he’ll be playing in here as he grows up. But at the same time I’ve got other friends who tell me that they never baby-proofed at all – so is my keeping my furniture and style neglecting his needs, or is it okay?
Which leads me on to asking why – why – are a baby’s presumed needs so often so unattractive? I’m talking about the playmats and bouncy chair and the highchair and the gazillion toys – all of which I seem to have somehow acquired because people keep giving things to me. I don’t want to be ungrateful, but there is so much of it, none of it’s white, and it makes me feel really anxious, and like I’m being asked to let go of my entire aesthetic – especially when you combine it with the people telling me that I’ve got to change the apartment.
Interior designer Irene Gunter’s own flat has a fairly minimalist nursery, with a pared-back colour scheme and wooden accents. Paul Massey
Are minimalism and children mutually exclusive? Maybe it’s something that I should have thought about more – but I didn’t know if I was ever going to manage to have a baby, and so I deliberately didn’t think at all about what life would be like with one. And now here we are, with things like a massive wooden rainbow which is apparently meant to be displayed, which isn’t totally awful, but I still don’t want to have to look at it any more than the rest of the brightly coloured plastic crap that people keep bringing into my house. There’s nowhere for it to go, and I’ve had a huge argument with my husband about it because it’s his friends who are the worst (probably because they don’t know me so well) and, what’s more, he gets to go to work and not see it. One of them has even given us a ride-in car, and another, a slide – and we’ve got something called a Jumperoo. Our son is two months old.
Dear Devoted,
Thank you so much for your letter – and so many congratulations on your son. I’m so glad that you got there. Also, well done on having such a clear sense of your own aesthetics; I always admire vision and point of view. I’m going to cut to the chase and say yes, it is possible to combine minimalism with children, proof being that John Pawson has two sons, and we’ll go further into that shortly. But first, I want to say that I totally empathise with where you find yourself right now, both in the not wanting to have thought about the future until it was with you, and in your desire to hold on to your sense of pre-motherhood self. Our identities can be rocked by having a baby, however much we wanted the baby and love the baby, and it isn’t always spoken about as much as it could be. And, because we’re at home so much when they’re tiny, home as an extension of ourselves becomes particularly important. I remember, when my son was born, a relative telling me that I wasn’t going to be able to keep my house as tidy as I always had done, and that the sooner I realised that and let go, the better it would be for everybody. Having already ‘let go’ of a job that I loved (albeit temporarily), my social life, and my body, all it did was make me double down on that tidiness – often through tears (sleep deprivation, hormones, and sudden lack of control over time have a lot to answer for) – so I’m rather impressed that you recognise that there might, might, be something in some of what is being said to you.
So, let’s start with babyproofing, which is actually pretty straightforward, despite the varying opinions that you’ve experienced. There are essentially two strands to the practice; one protects the baby, the other protects your stuff. The first is essential; the other, less so – and that’s the bit that some people will claim never to have done. I don’t need to go into huge detail about the babyproofing that protects your baby, for there’s masses of better information available elsewhere online, except to say that whatever you think now, it’s impossible to watch a moving child the entire time – and thus you want to make sure that there are no lethal chemicals kept in alluring bottles under the kitchen sink or the bathroom basin, there are no sharp knives that he can access, and there’ll probably be a period when you want to make use of stair gates. (Also, keep an eye on the oven once he can reach the knobs and dials.)
Instead, let’s look at the latter – which I’m saying is less vital not because I think it’s okay for a beautiful white sofa to be covered in mushed up banana, but because nobody has to give a banana to a child who is sitting on that sofa (though such accidents do happen.) But “a room does have to work for everyone,” says Victoria von Westenholz (who has two young children) while Susan Deliss (her boys are now teenagers) describes a ‘theoretical plimsoll line’; “above it, you can have exquisite lampshades and blinds that sticky fingers can’t reach, but a £20,000 rug under the table at which you all eat is a very unwise investment” – for although you don’t have to feed a child on the sofa, you ought to feed them somewhere.
However, there are areas – that you’ve already identified – where there is overlap between the two types of babyproofing, and unless the plinths you mention are solidly fixed to your floors, you might want to rethink how you display your sculptures, just for a few years – but I think you already know that. If you can, perhaps try to see it as an opportunity to experiment with alternative means of display – whether you go for wall-mounted brackets, or built-in shelves – which could feature something more substantial below.
A clever cabinet design by Murudé allows a child to have their own arts space, and their parents to shut it away neatly at the end of the day.
For the universal answer to having a baby (or small child) and maintaining your preferred aesthetic is excellent storage; even maximalists tend not to be fans of Legogeddon, and regarding your minimalist preferences – and John Pawson precedence – I’m happy to report that his Cotswolds farmhouse features cupboards. It is into these, which you can design to be as flat fronted as you like, that I suggest that you pile the majority of what you have been given, including the rainbow – while knowing that Philip Hooper, joint managing director of Sibyl Colefax & John Fowler, does the same with Christmas cards, rather than “suffer the random taste of other people’s bonhomie.” But there’s more that cupboards can do, especially when it comes to children. Clever design can see whole worlds inside them – from mini kitchens to varied discovery systems, all of which can be invisible when not in use. Murude Katipoglu, founder of Murudé, designed a cabinet in a family sitting room (above) that stores a child’s arts and crafts materials – when the doors open it displays pens, papers, stickers and toys, there’s a linen-covered pinboard where art can be displayed, and even a sliding ladder so that the child can reach things on higher shelves. In a similar vein, I’ve seen larger under-the-stairs spaces turned into pull-out mini playrooms that pack away again, and, more simply, very stylish coffee tables that double as toy boxes.
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For children do benefit from toys: they greatly aid in firing up imaginations, helping develop fine motor skills, and more. Though, regarding the person who told you that your child would be under-stimulated in your apartment, know that too many toys can lead to over-stimulation, and there are paediatricians who argue for a more minimal approach. Similarly, empty space can be an advantage for children: one of John Pawson’s sons used to skateboard around his kitchen. So, if you do feel that you’ve got too much, you can absolutely regift some to local charities, nurseries, and the paediatric ward of your local hospital. (That said, you might want to wait until your son has outgrown them. My friend Jo, whose first child was three months older than mine, gave me the most gopping green plush and plastic caterpillar that played music – apologising while simultaneously explaining that I would thank her one day soon. And I did, for it proved an excellent distraction from teething.) Alongside, know that there are genuinely attractive toys out there, including – and these recommendations come from my colleague Charlotte McCaughan-Hawes who has a small child (my youngest is about to turn twelve so I’m less au courant than I could be) – the Possum Play Couch, which comes in a variety of colours including a milky ‘Babycino’, and Mamoi Climbing Triangles. Then there’s the Baby Bjorn bouncy chair in ‘Light Beige’ jersey (which I’d argue is approaching the status of design classic), and – again from Charlotte – Totter & Tumble playmats. Evidently, there are other parents who also prefer a more pared back palette – to which end geniuses were raised in the pre-plastic era, too (and the lack of Jumperoo, or ride-around car, clearly did not hold Shakespeare back. Though if you have got space to keep them, they might, just like that green caterpillar, one day prove of value.)
In this eighteenth-century house in Bath, Patrick Williams designed a neutrally decorated playroom filled with traditional toys, in keeping with the immaculate restoration of this property without compromising on fun. Michael Sinclair
Your problem really is that we – humankind in general, and fellow parents in particular – are keen on doling out unsolicited advice (alongside unsolicited giant gifts) such as you have suffered. Some comes from a place of genuine well-meaning – but there are other occasions when I wonder if it’s led by subconscious insecurity, if someone might say “you can’t combine minimalism with a baby” because they couldn’t combine minimalism with a baby. Certainly, the relative who told me that I just had to let go of trying to be tidy is not renowned for their inherent sense of order. Alongside that, our brains work in such a way as to reassure us that decisions we’ve made are the correct ones, whether they relate to decorating conundrums such as curtain fabric, or the extent to which we baby-proof, and we’re keen to see others do similar. So I can suggest that you need to temporarily store the Mies van der Rohe coffee table, and I can tell you it’s going to be fine to keep it, and I can say that it will probably be okay, and that children need to learn to manage risk, though you could mitigate the only-do-it-once damage with corner covers – and there’ll be people who agree or disagree strongly with every one of those answers. (Though for what it’s worth, if it was me, I’d probably choose option 3.)
Writing from the other side, it truly does all go by in a flash – though it’s pointless saying that, for I can remember that it didn’t feel fast when I was living it, and it’s not so speedy as to warrant waving your taste goodbye. There are some who do genuinely love having a house full of brightly coloured children’s paraphernalia, but there’s more than one way to orchestrate the early years, and way you play it will be no less precious.
I hope that this helps – and has maybe even given you some ideas –
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