Mimi Berry's east London flat rests in the middle of a crescentbalcony. Here, on the fourth floor of a Victorian red-brick mansionblock, a line of neighbouring windows – most of which are stillcouncil-owned – are coloured by a sweep of golds, cerise and blues. Theheavy Bangladeshi influence sits comfortably next to traditionalhanging baskets and ornamental figurines.
Inside, a grey feline pads across stripped wooden floors as herowner ignores the shrill of a green rotary dial telephone. Sitting at atable in front of the south-facing window, Berry, 32, nods towards thedisorderly cityscape enveloping the view through the pane. "When Ifirst saw this flat," she remembers, "I looked through this window andsaw something else." Beyond the immediate clutter of Victorian rooftops, Georgian chimneys and Sixties low-rise silhouettes, the Gherkinmarks the point of the horizon. "The rooms were awful quite beyondwords. The previous tenant grew weed and there were holes in theceiling and staples in the window-frames from hanging hydroponics[lamps]. But through the window here, the tree just outside was full ofleaves and filled the room with a dappled green light. It wasbeautiful."
Now firmly installed, Mimi sits at this table and often sketchesdesigns for her boutique – conveniently located just 10 minutes away,on fashionable Cheshire Street, where she sells her unique leather bagsand purses. "My dad said that if you find a south-facing window, theroom will always look warm," she says. "And he was right. In fact, Inever bothered putting up curtains. I often find myself just lookingout."
Just off the hustle and bustle of Brick Lane, Mimi's shop sits amida hub of vintage stores and original leather outlets. Neighbouringbusinesses desperately attempt to harness their demographic, be it theBangladeshi strong-hold or the herd of students flocking to theoriginal stomping ground of British artists such as Tracey Emin andDamien Hirst. Mimi, however, will not – and clearly needs not –entertain such tactics. Drawing a diverse and loyal clientele, herclassic leatherwares are made from Italian materials, fitted in the UK,and transcend any fad trend or niche-market.
"Once Brick Lane was full of leather shops," she says. "Now it'spredominantly bars, stuffed with college kids who look like they'vecollectively mugged a Topshop mannequin. I don't quite know where thatleaves my produce, but I don't worry that it doesn't always fit withthe current fashion."
Not one for chasing trends, Mimi's philosophy is simple: "If thingsare classic and well made, you'll always have return customers. A thinghas to look good, but that shouldn't compromise its function." Andsuch, it transpires, is the thinking behind the room in which we sit."Pretty much everything in this flat has a purpose." Much is hand-made,too. "Those cushions," she says, pointing to a scattering of texturedprints and colours: "I made those from bits and pieces found at
car boot sales. That plaid one was an old padded skirt. I just sort of see things and think, 'Oh, that'd be nice to sit on.'"
Mimi's flat is a space that works. While there is no doubt that itis truly stylish, overt styling has no place here. "The beautiful thingabout finally buying your own space is that there's no rush to finishit. It is far better when you have the chance to let things evolvenaturally," she says. This approach has allowed an eclectic mix offurniture, holding an assortment of interesting histories. The units inher kitchen, for instance, came from her last shared house, and weremade by a friend. Their story combines a telling mix of the practicaland the esoteric, as seen in both the character of the home and itsresident. "The cupboard is recycled from three fruit boxes," Mimiexplains. "The left [cupboard] is for my friend Polly, because thatshade of blue is her favourite colour. The end one is mine, because theoverlapping apples look like two bums."
An Eighties postcard of Joan Collins, next to a DVD of thecontroversial French cult classic La Haine and – naturally – anoriginal Horse and Pony annual, confuses matters even further.
Mimi, why Joan? "Why? Look at her – Queen Bitch! She'd bite peanutsin half so as not to smudge her lipstick. I still remove my clip-onearrings before I answer my phone because of her," she grins wickedly.Yet it's not all Dynasty glamour: close by, a Rob Ryan print portrays ayoung boy in a quiet rural scene. "It was the first piece of proper artI ever bought," she smiles. "Rob's my friend and this piece reminded meof growing up in Bath and the surrounding countryside. It's acomforting image." And then, reminiscent of youthful collections, aplethora of pins and badges displayed in a rather more grown-up antiqueglass-fronted wooden cabinet. The record player, a further nod to thepast, is favoured by Mimi over CD systems because "the process justfeels so much better. It's so easy to turn on the radio and have anoise going on behind you, but you never really listen. There's aspecial moment when you put on a record and you actually hear it."
Upon the turntable casing, a half-finished jigsaw depicts aSixties-style country scene. A young male couple point towards anabsent spectacle. What lies just out of sight bears no relevance forMimi: "They were obviously just told 'look over there'," she suggests.
The bedroom: a raised bed, made from the legs of a full-sizesnooker table ( "it's funny to sit on a bed as an adult and have yourfeet swing beneath you") and covered by a traditional Welsh blanket. Atits foot, neon plastic baskets hold a selection of belts and tights fitto make any woman swoon. A stack of fluorescent cycling coats is storedabove a rail of vintage frocks and coats.
The playful incongruity evident throughout this home, reveals aprocess present in her design. Though classic, there is something elseat work, setting Mimi apart from her more traditional counterparts. Andwhile it would be easy to attribute the assemblage of ostensiblyill-fitting pieces to the current trend of retro-nostalgia, it is clearthat Mimi – like her designs – is above such fleeting trends. Eitherway, who really cares? The point is that it works.