Welcome to my new series, called “I spent thirty-thousand man hours trying to find just the right [insert item: eg pen-holder, red lipstick, dishwasher] because I’m apparently very particular, and if I don’t write a post all about the things I found along the way before I hit jackpot I’ll have to start questioning my life choices, because what sane person spends that much time and effort researching just one item?”
This week it’s desks.
Not the functional type, with a slide-out drawer for your computer keyboard and those lockable file cupboards built into the pedestals; we’re doing the aesthetic types, rickety-legged rustic numbers that look incredible in photographs but are only good for working at if your job involves a lot of staring into space thinking about stuff and isn’t so heavy on the…work…element.
Is this a great idea for a series? I have no idea. Maybe it will be incredibly useful, so that you too can find the creme de la creme of whatever it is you’re searching for. At a minimum, it'll give you access to the inner workings of my mind and demonstrate just how seriously I take my job as a “tester and researcher of things”.
So, desks. This particular desk needs to go beneath the side window in the bedroom at The Dorset Nest, which is the cute-as-a-button thatched cottage we’re nearly ready to open bookings on (I reckon a month?).
Really it needs to serve as a dressing table and “pondering space” more than traditional desk, because it looks out over the little cottage garden, gets beautiful light and is the perfect spot for a) doing your makeup (if indeed you can be arsed with such a thing when you’re on holiday!) and b) lightly penning some romantic poetry or scribbling notes about your bestselling novel idea or writing postcards home.
Here are all the desks I shortlisted, almost bought and then - for various reasons, some of them quite pedantic - changed my mind.
FYI, my search terms for this were “writing table” or “writing desk” (if you add “writing” then the desk tends to be smaller in size and have legs rather than pedestals, which is what I wanted) and the desk needed to be characterful, traditional or rustic in style, but not shabby, solid wood and with clean, classic lines. Here’s what I came up with:
John Lewis Faithful Friend Desk
My Numero Uno option in this situation was this oak desk from John Lewis, the Hemingway. I almost bought it. I got to the credit card page. It was the perfect size, as in you couldn’t have built the thing any closer to the size of the space it needed to slot into. Wonderful. And I love, love, loved the detailing on it, the simplicity of it, the colour of the oak…
But then I saw that it wasn’t solid wood - 30% MDF construction. For £799? I just couldn’t quite bring myself to do it! The problem is, I buy a lot of antique and vintage stuff, and so I know what I can get for a bit less money that will be solid wood and beautifully handmade. That’s not even taking into account the sense of history, the charming patina (if you get the right piece, obviously, there’s a fine line between “vintage” and “absolutely fit for the tip” sometimes) and the fact that you can get something that looks infinitely more interesting and lovely.
This desk was always on the back-burner in case I couldn’t find “the one” second-hand. Buying second-hand is a lengthy, lengthy process. It’s very rare that the perfect thing just pops up straight away; it took me a month to find the chest of drawers, three months to find the desk that I have in my work cabin at home. I don’t mind the wait, usually, but when you’re trying to furnish a place to a vague deadline then it all becomes a bit panicky!
And so the John Lewis was my faithful back-up friend.
(The desk is here.)
Rowen & Wren Desk of Dreams
Now this is solid oak, and what an absolute beauty. It made me go entirely weak at the knees. I hadn’t known about Rowen & Wren until my sister-in-law bought an armchair from them and it is a thing to behold. The shape of it, the quality of the fabric, it’s just fabulous. (They also do various ticking stripe fabrics, which I am a big fan of.)
The issue with this one was that it was just over 10cm too deep for the space under the window, so the edge would have stuck out into the room, past the chimney breast. My right eyebrow was twitching at the thought of it.
I love this desk so much that I would almost consider doing a third holiday cottage just so it would fit somewhere. Of course, I would have to carry it into place on my own because my husband would have divorced me and moved to the other side of the world the moment I uttered the words “shall we do up another holiday cottage”, but I think it would probably be manageable. I’ve been lifting some light weights, recently, it can’t be that hard.
(The desk is here.)
Wayfair Franken-desk
I very, very fleetingly looked a this one from Wayfair because it came up in a reverse Google image search. At first glance, I thought it was an absolute bargain and really very pretty, but I began to worry that in real life it would look mass-produced, a cheap imitation of a vintage desk. It’s the shine on the legs and the fact they are slightly darker in tone, it had me instantly worried. (Why are they completely different? The more I look at it, the more it looks like two desks mixed-and-matched!)
BUT! A mere fraction of the price of the others, and solid wood again. I’d say it’s more console table than desk, but worth a mental note if you ever need a solid wood table that looks old for £250 and don’t mind it being a Franken-desk.
It’s here.
The Multiple Desks of Vinterior
This is where I spent the majority of my research time: my second home, the Vinterior website. I have bought countless vintage and antique items from here, including huge mid century glass ceiling lights and brass coffee tables for my house, rustic tables and bentwood chairs for The Dorset Nook, garden furnishings, cherub-embellished 18th century over-mantle mirrors (we lived in a Georgian country house before this one!) and everything else from antique ladders to stone planters.
Vinterior is nothing like Vinted, by the way, despite sounding similar. They are not even remotely connected. Vinterior is a platform for vintage/antique dealers, who upload their pieces to the website, and everything is vetted for quality and you don’t tend to get much stuff on there that’s crappy. It’s as though someone has gone through all of the eBay vintage listings and taken out 90% of the rubbish, re-photographed it all on a white background so that you can actually see what you’re buying properly and then made the payment/delivery process standardised and seamless.
I’m a fan, as you can probably tell.
I found at least five desks I loved over the course of around four months, but they were all just slightly too expensive, or slightly too small, or they were perfect but sold before I’d even had a chance to mull them over…
A particularly low moment was when I saw this cheeky little desk in my favourites folder and felt a huge wave of disappointment when I realised it was sold already…
…only realising about five minutes later that it sold to me, a year ago, when I bought it for my cabin and that I was at that moment sat at the very desk I was feeling sorry about.
(Do you think there’s a defining moment in your life when you suddenly realise that you’re completely barking mad or is it just a death by a thousand cuts kind of thing?)
In the end, the desk I found was on eBay, DRUMROLL PLEASE:
