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Celia Birtwell

Time, as Mick Jagger sang, has been on Celia Birtwell's side. As one of Britain's most enduring and cherished textile designers, she has provided the literal fabric of our lives for nearly 60 years.

Libby Sellers

Howl 2 celia header

Being back­stage at one of Clark’s shows was like being at the best par­ty in Lon­don with all the most beau­ti­ful peo­ple.” Though per­haps this was a har­bin­ger of events to come”

— Celia Birtwell
Howl 2 celia design
Celia Birtwell
Celia Birtwell Design, 1967
Photo: Courtesy of Celia Birtwell
Howl 2 celia portrait
Portrait of Celia Birtwell
Photo: Courtesy of Celia Birtwell

With designs worn by every­one from Jag­ger to Tal­itha Get­ty and Kate Moss, her print­ed gos­samer chif­fons, crepes and cot­tons — once tai­lored and cut into roman­tic dress­es and shirts— defined the ethe­re­al look of the late 1960s and 1970s. When her focus turned to inte­ri­ors in the 1980s, cre­at­ing prints for walls, win­dows and uphol­stery, her dis­tinct motifs were swathed across mid­dle class homes and lux­u­ry hotels alike. Her more recent return to fash­ion, with sell-out col­lec­tions for high-street retail­er Top­shop and col­lab­o­ra­tions with Cacharel and Valenti­no, kept her pat­terns on per­ma­nent repeat. And while her role at the epi­cen­ter of Lon­don’s cre­ative beau monde has been down­played, Birtwell is cel­e­brat­ed the world over for her part in David Hock­ney’s 1971 paint­ing Mr and Mrs Clark and Percy”.

The eldest daugh­ter of a cul­ture-lov­ing engi­neer and a seam­stress, Celia Birtwell was born near Man­ches­ter in the north of Eng­land in 1941. She recalls obses­sive­ly draw­ing fig­ures from a very young age and, at 13, was accept­ed into a tech­ni­cal col­lege in Sal­ford. Find­ing her artis­tic voice through pot­tery, paint­ing and tex­tiles, it was dur­ing these for­ma­tive years she met the pre­co­cious­ly tal­ent­ed Ossie at a cof­fee bar in Man­ches­ter. Birtwell says of the occa­sion, When I met him, it all just clicked into place, and I haven’t looked back since.” Fol­low­ing their move to London’s then-Bohemi­an Not­ting Hill and her series of jobs as a wig mak­er, cos­tu­mi­er and design­er of Op Art inspired fab­rics for fur­ni­ture store Heals, it wasn’t until 1965, when Ossie was design­ing fash­ion col­lec­tions for the hip Lon­don bou­tique Quo­rum, that Birtwell joined him in their gen­er­a­tion-defin­ing collaboration.

— How have you managed with the effects of the pandemic in the last year?

Tak­ing her inspi­ra­tion from the Bal­lets Russ­es, botan­i­cal sketch­es and the entire con­tents of the Vic­to­ria and Albert Muse­um, Birtwell designed the prints which Clark would mag­ic into beau­ti­ful cloth­ing. As she says, Ossie was the most amaz­ing pat­tern cut­ter — he could look at a per­son, and then cut the fab­ric free­hand to make a per­fect gar­ment. I have nev­er seen any­thing like that before or since. He used his skill to get the best out of my designs.” Their joint cre­ations were greater than the indi­vid­ual parts; their glam­orous, easy to-wear dress­es antic­i­pat­ed the mood of the hip­pie years and attract­ed a jet-set fol­low­ing. One infa­mous 1970 fash­ion show had throngs of peo­ple bang­ing on the doors, implor­ing access to the high cal­iber deca­dence with­in. In Jack Hazan’s 1974 doc­u­men­tary A Big­ger Splash,” Hock­ney notes Being back­stage at one of Clark’s shows was like being at the best par­ty in Lon­don with all the most beau­ti­ful peo­ple.” Though per­haps this was a har­bin­ger of events to come.

With more celebri­ty fol­low­ers than fash­ion buy­ers, mixed with his increas­ing­ly self-destruc­tive, play­boy lifestyle, Ossie’s bril­liant star was quick to burn out. By 1974, his mar­riage to Birtwell had burned away with it, leav­ing her and their two sons to seek retreat in Los Ange­les with her friend Hock­ney. With his sup­port, Birtwell even­tu­al­ly returned to design­ing and Lon­don — open­ing a small, epony­mous shop in 1984 in her old stomp­ing ground, Not­ting Hill. By then, the once down-at-heel area had begun its march towards gen­tri­fi­ca­tion and Birtwell’s home fur­nish­ing fab­rics were per­fect­ly posi­tioned to cater both to Not­ting Hill’s influx of afflu­ent home ren­o­va­tors and her own desire for a gen­tler, less fran­tic indus­try” than fashion.

The shop has now mor­phed into an online ven­ture over­seen by her chil­dren, though Birtwell’s print col­lec­tions have con­tin­ued to extend across a vari­ety of brands from high street to high end. In a way, her career has gone full cir­cle, twice. From fur­nish­ing fab­rics for Heals, to clothes with Ossie, back to fur­nish­ing fab­rics (now through Blend­worth Inte­ri­ors) and again to fash­ion. While the next sweep of the cir­cle is still to be decid­ed, time is like­ly to con­tin­ue being kind to Birtwell and her great, cre­ative legacy.

Lib­by Sell­ers is a Lon­don-based writer and cura­tor of design. Her book, Women in Design,” was pub­lished by
Quar­to in 2018.

With designs worn by every­one from Jag­ger to Tal­itha Get­ty and Kate Moss, her print­ed gos­samer chif­fons, crepes and cot­tons — once tai­lored and cut into roman­tic dress­es and shirts— defined the ethe­re­al look of the late 1960s and 1970s. When her focus turned to inte­ri­ors in the 1980s, cre­at­ing prints for walls, win­dows and uphol­stery, her dis­tinct motifs were swathed across mid­dle class homes and lux­u­ry hotels alike. Her more recent return to fash­ion, with sell-out col­lec­tions for high-street retail­er Top­shop and col­lab­o­ra­tions with Cacharel and Valenti­no, kept her pat­terns on per­ma­nent repeat. And while her role at the epi­cen­ter of Lon­don’s cre­ative beau monde has been down­played, Birtwell is cel­e­brat­ed the world over for her part in David Hock­ney’s 1971 paint­ing Mr and Mrs Clark and Percy”.

Being back­stage at one of Clark’s shows was like being at the best par­ty in Lon­don with all the most beau­ti­ful peo­ple.” Though per­haps this was a har­bin­ger of events to come”

— Celia Birtwell

The eldest daugh­ter of a cul­ture-lov­ing engi­neer and a seam­stress, Celia Birtwell was born near Man­ches­ter in the north of Eng­land in 1941. She recalls obses­sive­ly draw­ing fig­ures from a very young age and, at 13, was accept­ed into a tech­ni­cal col­lege in Sal­ford. Find­ing her artis­tic voice through pot­tery, paint­ing and tex­tiles, it was dur­ing these for­ma­tive years she met the pre­co­cious­ly tal­ent­ed Ossie at a cof­fee bar in Man­ches­ter. Birtwell says of the occa­sion, When I met him, it all just clicked into place, and I haven’t looked back since.” Fol­low­ing their move to London’s then-Bohemi­an Not­ting Hill and her series of jobs as a wig mak­er, cos­tu­mi­er and design­er of Op Art inspired fab­rics for fur­ni­ture store Heals, it wasn’t until 1965, when Ossie was design­ing fash­ion col­lec­tions for the hip Lon­don bou­tique Quo­rum, that Birtwell joined him in their gen­er­a­tion-defin­ing collaboration.

— How have you managed with the effects of the pandemic in the last year?

Tak­ing her inspi­ra­tion from the Bal­lets Russ­es, botan­i­cal sketch­es and the entire con­tents of the Vic­to­ria and Albert Muse­um, Birtwell designed the prints which Clark would mag­ic into beau­ti­ful cloth­ing. As she says, Ossie was the most amaz­ing pat­tern cut­ter — he could look at a per­son, and then cut the fab­ric free­hand to make a per­fect gar­ment. I have nev­er seen any­thing like that before or since. He used his skill to get the best out of my designs.” Their joint cre­ations were greater than the indi­vid­ual parts; their glam­orous, easy to-wear dress­es antic­i­pat­ed the mood of the hip­pie years and attract­ed a jet-set fol­low­ing. One infa­mous 1970 fash­ion show had throngs of peo­ple bang­ing on the doors, implor­ing access to the high cal­iber deca­dence with­in. In Jack Hazan’s 1974 doc­u­men­tary A Big­ger Splash,” Hock­ney notes Being back­stage at one of Clark’s shows was like being at the best par­ty in Lon­don with all the most beau­ti­ful peo­ple.” Though per­haps this was a har­bin­ger of events to come.

With more celebri­ty fol­low­ers than fash­ion buy­ers, mixed with his increas­ing­ly self-destruc­tive, play­boy lifestyle, Ossie’s bril­liant star was quick to burn out. By 1974, his mar­riage to Birtwell had burned away with it, leav­ing her and their two sons to seek retreat in Los Ange­les with her friend Hock­ney. With his sup­port, Birtwell even­tu­al­ly returned to design­ing and Lon­don — open­ing a small, epony­mous shop in 1984 in her old stomp­ing ground, Not­ting Hill. By then, the once down-at-heel area had begun its march towards gen­tri­fi­ca­tion and Birtwell’s home fur­nish­ing fab­rics were per­fect­ly posi­tioned to cater both to Not­ting Hill’s influx of afflu­ent home ren­o­va­tors and her own desire for a gen­tler, less fran­tic indus­try” than fashion.

The shop has now mor­phed into an online ven­ture over­seen by her chil­dren, though Birtwell’s print col­lec­tions have con­tin­ued to extend across a vari­ety of brands from high street to high end. In a way, her career has gone full cir­cle, twice. From fur­nish­ing fab­rics for Heals, to clothes with Ossie, back to fur­nish­ing fab­rics (now through Blend­worth Inte­ri­ors) and again to fash­ion. While the next sweep of the cir­cle is still to be decid­ed, time is like­ly to con­tin­ue being kind to Birtwell and her great, cre­ative legacy.

Lib­by Sell­ers is a Lon­don-based writer and cura­tor of design. Her book, Women in Design,” was pub­lished by
Quar­to in 2018.

Howl 2 celia design
Celia Birtwell
Celia Birtwell Design, 1967
Photo: Courtesy of Celia Birtwell
Howl 2 celia portrait
Portrait of Celia Birtwell
Photo: Courtesy of Celia Birtwell