1. ESCAPE
TOTHE
COUNTRY
Knitwear designer Victoria
Stapleton weaves a vivid life at
her bucolic English estate.
By Naomi Rougeau
Standing outside knitwear maven Victoria
Stapleton’s home, which seems straight
from a Wodehouse novel, as she recounts
the scene of a Playboy shoot on the proper-
ty some 40 years prior, it’s not terribly dif-
ficult to imagine the Playmates in all their
suntanned, oiled-up, frosted-hair glory.
Perhaps they were perched atop a vintage
Rolls? Or maybe it was a Jaguar? Let me be
clear, the circa-1800 vicarage is the very
antithesis of 1970s smut, but if I’ve learned
anything in the first few minutes of my ar-
rival, it’s that this quintessentially English
residence is a delightful study in contrasts.
Clockwise from
left: Stapleton on
the front steps of
her Hertfordshire
home; sheep
grazing on the front
pasture; Hill House
in full bloom
JohnnyPilkington(hairandmakeupbyAnnaPayne)
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2. door, one is greeted by a line of Wellies and
a taxidermied stag’s head doubling as a hat
rack. After moving in, Stapleton made only
a few architectural changes, knocking down
walls to expand the laundry room (“It’s
dogs and washing all in one room, typically
English”) and enlarge the kitchen. The lat-
ter is the social hub of the house, a large
sun-filled space featuring an Aga stove,
the aforementioned disco ball (for-
merly a prop in a Brora Christmas win-
dow display), and two long, custom-made
lime-washed beech farm tables (which
together comfortably seat 24) ready to
receive London friends and family, for
whom Pilkington loves to cook. If the
weather’s right, the festivities might
spill over into the plant-filled Victorian
conservatory and the front lawn that
overlooks a hillside dotted with sheep.
Elsewhere on the grounds, there’s a
large vegetable garden as well as an
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What makes Scottish cashmere—
the kind Stapleton uses—so special? For starters, unlike less
expensive cashmere, which is often made from the shorter,
coarser hairs of the goat’s back or legs (or even strands
shed on bushes), only the longest and thinnest strands of
raw material, usually from the neck area, are selected,
minimizing pilling. To ensure maximum softness, each piece
is immersed in Scottish freshwater (renowned for its pH
neutrality, which makes fabric less coarse) and brushed with
the prickly, dried heads of the teasel plant. Two centuries of
manufacturing experience doesn’t hurt, either.
Welcome to Hill House. A mere 45 minutes
by train from London’s Victoria Station in the
quaint village of Stanstead Abbotts, Hertford-
shire, the pleasingly symmetrical, wisteria-
covered brick Georgian set on 15 idyllic acres
boasts the following: hand-blocked wall-
paper; a disco ball hanging in the kitchen;
heirloom bird sculptures created by Staple-
ton’s mother-in-law mingling with stuffed
ring-necked parakeets (her husband’s handi-
work); and a bare male mannequin (decapi-
tated, no less) for no apparent reason on the
front steps. “It’s a real mixture here,” Staple-
ton says. Indeed.
She, her husband, photographer Johnny
Pilkington, and their daughters left Lon-
don’s Chelsea neighborhood in 2002, seeking
a slower pace in what had been Pilkington’s
childhood home. The nearby town of Stev-
enage serves as HQ for Brora, the Scottish
cashmere brand that Stapleton founded in
1993—and that now boasts 14 stores, includ-
ing one U.S. location on Manhattan’s Mad-
ison Avenue, offering men’s, women’s, and
children’s home goods, clothing, and acces-
sories. Brora attracts some pretty fashion-
able (and pretty British) clients: Stapleton’s
childhood friend, model Stella Tennant, is a
fan, as is Kate Middleton, who was recently
seen sporting gold Brora earrings courtside at
Wimbledon. The brand is a nod to the design-
er’s roots—she grew up near the Scottish Bor-
ders in Cumbria, and all of the cashmere knits
are manufactured in Hawick, Scotland, at a
mill used by Chanel, Louis Vuitton, and Her-
mès. It also reflects her personal style. The
tall, striking designer is often seen in printed
skirts or tea-length dresses, layered knits, and
her trademark Brora or Adidas sneakers. The
look:unquestionablequality,loveofcolor,and
a definite boho lean.
It’s a high-minded–meets–offbeat aesthet-
ic that’s also reflected in Stapleton’s
home. Entering through the back
Clockwise from left:
Stapleton minds the
sheep in the front
pasture; her 14-year-
old daughter Lola’s
boho bedroom; the
main sitting room
Fall looks from Brora
JohnnyPilkington(3);bottom,fromleft:courtesyofBrora;silkdress,
REDValentino,$950,collectionatBergdorfGoodman,NYC.
264

3. apple, pear, and cherry orchard that produces
some 400 bottles of juice each autumn. (Sta-
pleton occasionally serves it at Brora in-store
events.)
ShestudiedhistoryofartattheUniversityof
East Anglia in Norwich, England, and found-
ed Brora after her entrepreneur father, David,
purchased an ailing tweed manufacturer,
Hunters of Brora. (One of David’s savvy busi-
ness decisions involved bringing Scottish
smoked salmon to the masses via British de-
partment store chain Marks & Spencer in the
’70s.) He placed Stapleton in charge of retail
operations, and the brand was featured in a
1993 Financial Times shopping article on cash-
mere that read, “Brora does wonderful crew
necks and round necks in black, blue, and
brown, for £99.” Without even a photograph,
she wound up taking £10,000 worth of orders
the first weekend.
LivingoutsideLondonhasn’tprovedahandi-
cap, but rather an asset for running a fashion
brand—the suburban location lends itself to
a huge work space that includes photography
and design studios only a 20-minute drive
away, as well as a very loyal local staff of 60.
Stapleton met Pilkington in the ’90s through
her friend, the ceramist Emma Bridgewater,
but they didn’t get together until later, when
Pilkington was hired to photograph a Brora
campaign in Argentina.
History is important to Stapleton; the 22-
room house’s stairwell brims with three gen-
erations’ worth of family photos (including
that Playboy shoot, which took place on the
front lawn), and she’s amassed an extensive
spongeware collection (some of it by Bridge-
water, much of it eighteenth century). One
can’t help but be drawn to the main sitting
room. A jewel box of a space with deep-purple
hessian-covered walls, it’s the perfect back-
drop for Stapleton’s eclectic collection of art,
which runs the gamut from market finds
unearthed while she was a student studying
abroad in Venice to Hugo Guinness illustra-
tions. “There are some nice bits and pieces
and then there are some cheap bits and
pieces. You know, it’s just thrown together,”
Stapleton says. And thanks to the rise of all
things midcentury and clean lined, she says
there are surprising bargains to be had at auc-
tion houses. “You can pick up antique furni-
ture for nothing. Everyone wants IKEA; it’s
so depressing.”
Her three daughters’ rooms are equally col-
orful. “It’s important for them to have their
space for self-expression, where they can be
themselves,” Stapleton says. Jesse, 18, recent-
ly threw an Austin Powers–themed birthday
party for 150 people, so there’s currently a
life-size cutout of the fictional ’60s spy in her
bedroom. Nancy’s and Lola’s domains are just
as lively. The sisters, 16 and 14, frequently join
Jesse in raiding their mother’s sizable closet,
which is stacked with woolens, well-traveled
Globe-Trotter luggage…and, knock wood, no
moths. The girls’ shared bath features hand-
blockedwallpaperbyMartheArmitage,the86-
year-oldLondonartistwhosework—alldoneat
her home in Chiswick—is a bit of an insider se-
cret (Stapleton heard about Armitage through
Tennant; Tilda Swinton is also a fan). The wall-
coverings, which take about six months from
order to delivery, also adorn Brora’s boutiques.
Does Stapleton ever miss London? “Not for
a minute.”
Clockwise from top left:
the pool (with a Brora
throw atop a lounge
chair) and surrounding
gardens at Hill House;
the conservatory; the
mudroom
“You can pick up antique furniture
fornothing. Everyone wants
IKEA; it’s so depressing.”
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