When Interior Design Works

If there is one thing that most of us have in common, it is that we’ve all been present somewhere when someone has made an inappropriate speech. Weddings are fabulous places for this, although I once stood at a funeral where the vicar began by lamenting that the promise of youth and vigorous manhood had been so untimely plucked by our Lord, only to be told his schedule was wrong, and the deceased had, in fact, been eighty-six. And female.

But weddings are still the most fertile ground when it comes to uncomfortable silences, shocked gasps, muted rage and, invariably, tears from Aunty Meg. And all this first-class entertainment is the result of giving a microphone to somebody with unpracticed communication skills, who fine-tunes those skills by shouting at the dog, complaining down the pub, or mumbling at the television.

Most of us have had to give a speech at some point, and we know how much time we spend making sure that there’s something for everyone, that we mention all the right people, in the right order, and remember to thank the sponsors, or the vicar, or Uncle Sid for the loan of his lawn-mower.

If we translate this practice into business parlance, what we are really trying to do is to make sure that we are ‘On Message’. Even with a wedding speech, we are taking our language to market, where it will be judged on its appropriateness, suitability, integrity, and how well it reflects the occasion.

It matters, and it matters a great deal. There’s no comfort in being told ‘Great speech, mate’, when half the audience are asleep, and the other half want you railroaded out of town. It can be a very unforgiving experience. It is the language that you choose to use that defines you. And it’s exactly the same with interior design.

It’s difficult not to wax pretentious at this stage, but the fact is that design is very much a language in its own right. And being a language, it is subject to misinterpretation. The clarity with which a designer can successfully communicate an idea is often where an interior space either lives or dies. The struggle to be “On Message” is still the same.

The language of interiors can be every bit as elegant, or witty, or dull and dreary, as the spoken word. It can be as inappropriate and offensive as any tired and emotional father-in-law. Or it can charm, seduce, and enchant. Just like the spoken word, it can appall and repel us, but it can also awe and inspire us.

When you design a restaurant, you are inviting your clients, and customers, to live with what you create. There is no room for apologies if it doesn’t work. Get it wrong, you won’t get a second chance. Get it right, and it can be the most rewarding, satisfying, and (let’s not beat about) profitable thing you can do.

At its best, the interior design of a restaurant acts in seamless harmony with both the operation and the brand, and nowhere in Dubai is this better demonstrated than in the Rivington Grill at Souk Al Bahar.

Owned by the Caprice Holdings group in the UK, the restaurant is shamelessly British in its approach. But this is not exactly Ye Olde English Pub. Nor does it celebrate 400 years of colonial plagiarism, and it couldn’t be further from the fussy Victorian styling that we have come to associate with off-the-shelf, off-shore ‘typically British’ interiors. On the contrary, this is the unfussy, uncluttered and no nonsense interior of smart-city Britain.

Apparently, being educated in the UK at the moment is all rather ‘tut-tut, haven’t the Brits been naughty boys over the years’. Celebrating British-ness is very much frowned upon, and the apologists are very much to the fore. Not these guys, though. They have clearly decided NOT to throw the baby out with the bathwater. This restaurant seems to look you squarely in the eye and challenge that most tittered at of oxymoron’s: British Cuisine.

And so it is. Roast beef and Yorkshire pudding salad. Barnsley lamb chop with bubble and squeak. Game faggots (excuse me?). Sticky toffee pudding. And you know what? It’s fabulous. This is not a foodie review, but I really could go on.

This highly refreshing ‘hold-the-line’ British approach to the menu is equally reflected in the service offering. Walking in shortly after 6pm, three busy kitchen staff looked up at us and said “Evening, mate”, and I couldn’t help feeling that I was experiencing something of the restaurants City of London, Shoreditch roots. And that is very much the impression that you get. There are no fawning waiters or subservient staff. Quality service has dispensed with any need for servility.

This is good honest people serving good honest grub to good honest people. There’s a sense of equilibrium among staff and diners and it feels, to be honest, good.

And here’s a question; how much can you learn about a restaurant from a three panel, collapsible screen? Well, perhaps more than you might think. Most designers in the Middle East are familiar with the concept of ‘localising’ their designs to be in keeping with the region. Again, The Rivington has stood by its guns and resisted the temptation to be drawn into this. So even the screens, which would have been ever so easy to convert into an arabesque tribute, are resolutely plain and understated.

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FEATURED COMMENT Strange for a piece in an interior design magazine not to credit the interior designer! Perhaps the restaurant's design   1 Comments Read more comments »

In a region where we have all become almost immune to being overwhelmed by spectacular and awe-inspiring interiors, it is really nice not to be bullied by the interior designer. This interior is clean, comfortable, and welcoming, and you get the impression that it’s more about ‘you’, and less about ‘them’.

And it works. Not just as an interior space, but as part of the overall Rivington Grill experience.

The design is absolutely in sync with the service. The service is absolutely in sync with the menu.

The menu is absolutely in sync with the interior. It’s on message, on brand, and it simply works.

But there is more to this than meets the eye. You can’t help but notice, as you approach the restaurant through the dimly lit passages of the Souk Al Bahar, that there is something rather weird, red, and glowing at the end of the corridor. On getting closer, you find yourself reading a sign that says “never let me go” in cursive neon strip lighting. What? It’s the same inside, where two equally inexplicable signs read “I love to boo hoo” and “fast fast slow fast”. They are so at odds with the rest of the interior that you’re left wondering what on earth is going on.

But you need to know something about the original Rivington in Shoreditch to understand what this is about. There, you see, they have a strong YBA (Young British Artist) clientele. It’s chic, trendy, and very, very cool. And their neon sign reads Lufituaeb Gnikcuf, which is meaningless, of course. Even with a mirror on the opposite wall.

So, a subtle echo of the original? A little in-joke, aimed exclusively at people ‘in the know’. I can almost hear Monty Python’s Eric Idle saying “Nod-nod, wink-wink, say no more, say no more”. How wonderfully British!

To get back to the issue of the language of interior design, what The Rivington’s interior tells you is exactly what they want you to know. It is concise, classic, appropriate, unfussy, ‘on brand’ and ‘on message’.

If this interior was a speech, it would probably be something like the Gettysburg address. A mere 268 words. But my, my, what words they were. The difference would be that behind the lectern, Lincoln would be wearing Union-Jack board shorts.

By Justin Penketh

Gavin Mackenzie and Justin Penketh are the managing partner and senior design manager of Outcast, a Dubai-based company that boasts over 100 years of collective design experience in Europe, south-east Asia, the US and Caribbean, and the UAE.

If you are interested in nominating a space ‘Where Interior Design Works’, or in contributing to this section, please contact Selina Denman at selina.denman@itp.com.