We’ve actually been banging on about the Anglepoise for quite a while. Back in 2015 we chose it as one of our Design Classics, and ten years later it turned up again as the July illustration in our 2025 Design Classics calendar. Some designs really do refuse to go away – quite rightly in this case.

A very clever spring

Automotive engineer George Carwardine developed a spring mechanism that could move freely while holding its position, rather like a human arm. Teaming up with spring makers Herbert Terry & Sons, he first marketed the idea to industry before the public rather enthusiastically claimed it for themselves. The Anglepoise lamp was born in 1932.

It is one of those pieces of design that has become so familiar it is easy to stop noticing how clever it is. We have two in the studio ourselves, quietly peering over our shoulders and pointing light exactly where it is needed.

A design classic with some curious stories

The Anglepoise has gathered some brilliant stories over the years. In 1948 the BBC’s Head of Variety apparently had the lamps banned from BBC offices, fearing that their low light might encourage ‘degenerate programme making’. Thankfully that particular design critique didn’t last.

There have been giant versions too. The Roald Dahl Museum commissioned one based on the writer’s favourite lamp, while sculptor David Mach created The Giant Hand Sculpture using 360 black Anglepoise lamps.

Perhaps my favourite tale involves a Wellington bomber recovered from the mud during a search for the Loch Ness Monster. After around 40 years underwater, its Anglepoise lamp was apparently still working. Built to last indeed.

Still evolving

The original Anglepoise was George Carwardine’s creation, but its design story didn’t stop there. Decades later Kenneth Grange became Design Director at Anglepoise and developed new interpretations including the Type 75. We’ve recently been looking at Kenneth Grange and his extraordinary contribution to British design.

And if the lamp seems oddly human, you’re not alone. It inevitably brings Pixar’s Luxo Jr. to mind, although that animated lamp was actually based on a Luxo L-1 rather than an Anglepoise. Either way, there is something friendly about a lamp that bends over your desk as though it is taking an interest in what you’re doing.

Not bad for a clever arrangement of springs dreamed up more than 90 years ago.

Ïto refers to his design philosophy as ‘simplexity’ – making complex design feel simple – and it suits this car rather perfectly.

Simplexity on four wheels

There is a definite connection with the original R17, but everything feels cleaner, sharper and a little more cinematic. It’s sleek and substantial. Definitely getting movie vibes! The yellow lights especially give it an almost Blade Runner feel.

It was a team effort with Renault’s design team, and that shows. Nothing feels as though it has been added simply because it can be; there is a lovely restraint to the whole thing.

Inside the Renault R17: more lounge than car

The R17 interior takes a softer turn. The intention was to create something more lounge-like than your standard car, which I really like. It makes a lovely contrast with the crisp exterior and gives the whole thing a more relaxed, almost domestic feel.

A happy shark

One detail I particularly like is Ïto’s reaction to the original Renault 17. When he first looked at the car he saw something shark-like in its shape, and that idea stayed with him during the design process.

A happy shark, mind you.

Proportion was important too. The team had to accommodate the extra size and weight of the electric car while keeping the balance right and, crucially, without losing the personality of the original.

That is perhaps where this works best. It doesn’t look as though somebody has simply taken an old car and made it futuristic. It still feels like an R17.

These design collaborations are partly about exploring new possibilities for future cars, but I mostly love the amount of consideration that goes into something like this. It manages to be thoughtful without losing its sense of fun.

Form, function, fun.

Originally found at Designboom. Images by Lionel Koretzky and Renault, shared from the original article.

Anglepoise is one design name we’ve returned to more than once at Pickle. The original lamp was George Carwardine’s invention, but Grange later became an important part of its story, taking that familiar form forward for a new generation. His Type 75 is a lovely example – unmistakably Anglepoise, but cleaner and more modernist. We explored the story of the Anglepoise lamp in this illustrated infographic.

Design hiding in plain sight

What I find fascinating is just how familiar so much of his work is. You could easily have travelled on, cooked with, written with or photographed something Grange helped to design without ever knowing his name.

His career spanned more than 60 years and reached far beyond Britain, including typewriter design in Japan. But it is perhaps his mark on everyday British design that feels most familiar, from London taxis to red Post Office postboxes.

There is something rather lovely about that. These weren’t objects designed simply to sit in a gallery and be admired. Trains, cameras, food mixers, lamps and pens are things people actually use. Good design quietly becomes part of everyday life.

Form, function and a little playfulness

Reading the various tributes written about him, Grange comes across as a warm fellow with an air of humility about him. Known for his playful take on Modernism, he seems to have been motivated less by putting his own stamp on everything and more by the desire to make things better.

I think that probably explains why his work has lasted so well. There is personality there, but it never gets in the way of what the object is actually for. Form and function working together – with enough character to stop things becoming dull.

An admirable quality to be sure.

“No one and nothing is perfect – Improvement is the only responsible approach one can take in design as in life.”

(Images: Above; Kenneth Grange at home in 2014, next to one of his hugely successful Anglepoise lamp designs. Photograph: Joel Redman via The Guardian. Title image; combination of Grange’s works, images from Anglepoise.)

These three designs have captured my attention today.

This 1970s throw-back is beautiful in its simplicity. The Easy Lounge Chair and Modular Sofa by Ahti Taskinen opens into a bed and can be grouped to create a flexible sofa arrangement. Now back in production, I love the choice of colours and fabrics, the velvety cord looks so comfy!

Sticking with the 1970s, and with the modular style, another sinkable classic. Italian leather and timeless style, the Le Mura by Mario Bellini comes complete with love handles.

Now for something completely different, I don’t even know if I would trust sitting on this piece! But what elegant design. Slithers of marble float mid air, held by sheets of glass. Bringing us right up to date, French designer Frédéric Saulou explores what he calls a ‘technical enigma’ with his new collection Delta.

These beauties were found at Sight Unseen.

Its a grown-up house with a confident interior allowing happy moments wherever you look. Considered but homely, I just want to explore.

The building is elegant and rather sprawling, probably a tad daunting to renovate, but I like how Luke brings together art and design across the decades to create a unified space.

That black spiral staircase in the library is particular special and I do love the corduroy sofa!

Images borrowed from Yellow trace, with photography by Tom Ferguson and styling by Claire Delmar.

Paulin worked for Thonet, stretching swimming fabric over frames, but he really found his stride when working for Dutch company Artifort. The Mushroom chair in 1960 fitted perfectly into this futuristic decade. Colourful fabrics and patterns in curvaceous shapes, comfort and beauty were at the forefront.

The Ribbon chair followed in 1966 and the Tongue chair in 1968. Paulin’s pieces where popular with Georges Pompidou, his interior design could be found in the Élysée Palace. Today the chairs are displayed as works of art in the Victoria and Albert Museum and the Museum of Modern Art in New York.

Paulin inspired many designers after him, including Olivier Mourgue who created Dijnn chairs featured in 2001: A Space Odyssey. You can spot the classic Ribbon chair on the small and silver screen, including the recent film, Blade Runner: 2049.

The Ribbon chair has flare, stunning from every angle. A design classic who’s appeal has endured and will continue to do so.

Sources: Main image: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6. Bottom image: 1, 2, 3.

When I first wrote about the coat stand for our newsletter back in 2017, I had recently visited Prague and sat in the kind of cafés I imagined Thonet designing for – places thick with conversation, where coffee was lingered over and you could quite believe a revolution might be plotted at the next table.

A design classic made for café life

The Café Daum coat stand dates from a pivotal period in Thonet’s career. After moving to Vienna, one of his first important independent commissions came from Anna Daum, owner of the fashionable Café Daum. The elegant coat stand is associated with that 1849 commission, alongside furniture for the café.

It is practical, of course, but look at those curves. Instead of hiding joints beneath heavy carving and decoration, Thonet was finding ways to let the material and the method of construction create the form. It feels remarkably light and modern for something conceived in the middle of the 19th century.

I have a soft spot for the coat stand for another reason. We had one in my childhood home – if not an original, then certainly closely inspired by one – in rich dark wood, tall and elegant like an indoor tree. I think I took it completely for granted, slinging my coat over those wonderfully curvaceous hooks.

Bending the rules

Michael Thonet had begun experimenting with ways of bending wood in the 1830s, looking for an alternative to the labour-intensive carving and joining traditionally used in furniture making. His big technological breakthrough came in the 1850s, when he perfected a way of bending solid beech using steam and a metal strap to stop the wood splitting.

That changed much more than the appearance of a chair. It allowed furniture to be broken down into standardised components and produced efficiently in much larger numbers. A new factory followed in 1857, and Thonet’s furniture began to demonstrate something we now take for granted: good design could be elegant, repeatable and affordable at the same time. The V&A has a fascinating account of the development of Thonet’s bentwood furniture.

From bentwood to industrial design

Thonet’s most famous café chair, the No. 14 of 1859 – now known as the 214 – distilled the idea brilliantly. A handful of components could be manufactured separately, packed efficiently and assembled after shipping. Thonet even managed to fit 36 dismantled chairs into a one-cubic-metre shipping crate.

It is this combination of simple parts, efficient manufacture and pared-back form that makes Thonet so important to design history. The company is now regarded as a pioneer of industrial design, with ideas that anticipated much of what Modernism would later embrace.

The principle carried on through later Thonet furniture too. The No. 209 armchair, introduced around 1900, reduced an elegant and almost sculptural form to just six parts. Its sweeping back and armrest are bent from a single piece of solid beech.

Thonet, Vienna and Art Nouveau

The earliest Thonet bentwood designs actually predate Art Nouveau, but those organic curves and visually light forms later found themselves perfectly at home in the cafés and interiors of turn-of-the-century Vienna.

That connection has taken us neatly back to Thonet again here at Pickle. For our 2026 Art Nouveau calendar, we illustrated twelve objects and designs from the period – and April could only really belong to a Thonet bentwood chair.

More than 175 years after Café Daum, there is something rather wonderful about the fact that those deceptively simple curves still look completely at home. The technology was revolutionary, but perhaps the real mark of the design is that you do not need to know any of that to appreciate it.

Emma has also taken a closer look at the timeless design of Thonet’s bentwood chairs on Design Debate.

This article began life in our June 2017 newsletter and was expanded in August 2026. You can view the original ‘Somewhere to hang your coat’ newsletter as a PDF, or find out more about Pickle Design’s newsletters.

What makes a Chesterfield?

A traditional Chesterfield is usually defined by its upholstered arms and back sitting at the same height, with deep buttoning completing the distinctive shape. Leather is the material most closely associated with the design, although over the years the same form has appeared in velvet, fabric and almost every colour imaginable.

Our own illustration strips the sofa back to those essential features. Even in simplified form, there is very little doubt what it is. That ability to remain recognisable while materials, colours and surroundings change is one of the things that makes the Chesterfield such an enduring piece of furniture design.

A design with mysterious origins

The best-known story links the Chesterfield to Philip Dormer Stanhope, 4th Earl of Chesterfield, an 18th-century statesman with a reputation for elegance and style. According to the tale, he commissioned a seat that would allow a gentleman to sit upright and comfortably without creasing his clothes.

It is a wonderfully appropriate story, but the history is less tidy than the legend suggests. There is little firm evidence tying the Earl directly to the Chesterfield sofa we recognise today, and its familiar form appears to have evolved rather than arriving as one documented design by a single maker. Perhaps a little mystery suits it.

From traditional rooms to contemporary interiors

The Chesterfield became closely associated with drawing rooms, libraries and clubs, where dark leather, deep buttoning and generous proportions sat comfortably among richly furnished surroundings. That traditional image has stuck, but it only tells part of the story.

Change the leather for velvet, introduce an unexpected colour or put one against a cleaner contemporary interior and the same familiar shape suddenly takes on a very different character. Not long after illustrating our Chesterfield, some rather more extravagant versions caught our eye for another Pickle article, Opulent Chesterfields.

It is that adaptability that has helped the Chesterfield last. The details can be played with, exaggerated or pared back, but enough of the original character remains for the design to be understood almost immediately.

A Pickle Design classic

We first illustrated the Chesterfield in 2016 as part of our fascination with objects whose shapes have become almost inseparable from their names. Over on Design Debate, our Design Classics collection brought it together with the Anglepoise lamp, Valentine typewriter, Jaguar E-Type, Mini Cooper and other pieces that have earned a place in design history.

The interest in classic furniture actually went back further. Our Take a Seat feature looked back at Pickle’s 2014 calendar of classic chair design, including work by Frank Gehry, Arne Jacobsen and other designers. More recently we returned to the idea for our 2025 Design Classics calendar, this time widening the collection beyond furniture.

The Chesterfield has one of the more mysterious histories in that collection, but perhaps the success of the design matters more than having a neat origin story. Generations of changing interiors have failed to make its deep buttons and distinctive arms look out of place. That seems a pretty convincing qualification for a design classic.

From the Pickle archive

This feature began life in our June 2016 newsletter, where the Chesterfield appeared alongside some recent vehicle livery, our Fraddon Pottery stamp and an illustrated Fowey calendar. View the original June 2016 newsletter.

We originally illustrated the chair for September in our 2014 Pickle calendar, a year devoted to classic chair design. It was an obvious candidate. The looping profile is instantly recognisable, the material is wonderfully unexpected and, more than 50 years after it was designed, it still looks remarkably fresh.

Can you really make a chair from cardboard?

Cardboard furniture wasn’t a completely new idea when Gehry began experimenting with it. During the 1960s designers had already explored ways of folding, slotting and reinforcing sheets of cardboard to make lightweight furniture.

Gehry approached the material differently. He was already surrounded by corrugated cardboard because he used it to make architectural models. Rather than treating it as a thin sheet that needed to be folded into strength, he began gluing layers together and cutting into the resulting blocks.

By gluing layers of corrugated cardboard together with the corrugations running in alternating directions, he produced an unexpectedly strong material that he called Edge Board. Suddenly something associated with packing boxes could be carved almost like timber.

Gehry’s Easy Edges

Those experiments developed into the Easy Edges furniture series in 1972. Instead of disguising the humble material, Gehry made a feature of it. From the side, the exposed edges reveal layer after layer of corrugation, turning the construction itself into part of the decoration.

The Wiggle Side Chair is the piece that has come to represent the series. Vitra still produces it today, with a structure of corrugated cardboard and hardboard reinforcing the edges. The material sounds flimsy, yet the finished chair is strong, robust and designed to be sat on rather than simply admired.

The design also found its way into museum collections. New York’s Museum of Modern Art has a 1972 Easy Edges Side Chair in its Architecture and Design collection, made from laminated corrugated cardboard and fibreboard.

Why the Wiggle Chair works

The material is clever, but it is the silhouette that makes the chair memorable. Seat, back and base seem to flow into one another in a series of exaggerated loops. Viewed from the side it is almost a piece of line drawing made solid.

Those curves aren’t only there for effect. The repeated folds put material where the chair needs support, while that tall back and generous seat make it look considerably more inviting than the words ‘corrugated cardboard chair’ might suggest.

There is also something rather pleasing about the contradiction. Gehry used one of the cheapest and most disposable materials imaginable to make a piece of furniture that has ended up being treated as a design classic. It is playful without being a joke, and experimental without forgetting that somebody eventually has to sit on it.

A chair, an architect and a different way of looking at materials

Gehry is much better known for architecture, but the Wiggle Chair already shows the fascination with material, structure and unexpected forms that became so characteristic of his work.

Perhaps that’s what makes it such a useful design classic too. It isn’t simply an attractive old chair. It changes the way you look at something ordinary. Once somebody has turned packing cardboard into furniture worthy of MoMA, a pile of boxes never looks quite as unpromising again.

From the Pickle archive

The Wiggle Chair first appeared at Pickle as the September illustration in our 2014 calendar of classic chairs. We looked back at the complete collection on Design Debate in Take a Seat, which ranges from Gehry’s cardboard curves to Arne Jacobsen’s Swan Chair.

Our obsession with instantly recognisable objects carried on. A later Design Classics collection on Design Debate widened the net beyond furniture, while our 2025 calendar returned to the theme with another year’s worth of objects whose shapes have become part of design history.

And if chairs aren’t enough, the Chesterfield sofa is another fascinating example of a piece of furniture becoming recognisable almost entirely from its silhouette. Its history is considerably murkier than Gehry’s cardboard experiment, but it has proved just as difficult to dislodge from the design world.