My role was to dash out into the wild every once in a while to gather flowers from the fields, then dash in to arrange them in pretty little jugs before the camera clicked. My dashing, indefatigable in the morning, became increasingly defatigable as the day wore on.
[Pink Daughter with a mere fraction of my flower-picking oeuvre]
Marie, the stylist, was a wonder. A cushion and a throw here, a stack of books there, a necklace carelessly flung on a bedside table, and the house took on a composed, elegant new life.
[Marie works her transformative magic on the bedroom]
You can see some of Marie's accomplished Before & After work in other houses here.
[the bathroom windowsill needs a small touch of pink - cameras are abandoned as we all go on a quest for the Right Thing]
[Ashley and Marie at work in the guest bedroom]
Despite being the quiet, retiring sort, I appeared in a few photographs, looking
By evening, 19 hard-won shots were done and dusted, the girls had heroically not tripped over any wires, and we got to settle down with a large gin and tonic on a styled and repositioned sofa, planning to invite all the commentators to a cucumber sandwich served crustless on our imaginary rolling lawns whenever the feature is published. I hope you'll be there yourself.