Fortnums to the Rescue

I've been at war with a computer virus this week. My poor (admittedly rather ancient) laptop was attacked and I couldn't save it. It's been a frightening, infuriating and pitiful saga that completely overwhelmed and defeated me. I went to look at shiny, new replacements on Oxford St but felt so resentful of the computer geek responsible, that I just couldn't focus properly on the task. Surrounded by cheerful Christmas shoppers and much festive good will, I was having violent fantasies of throttling the evil little virus villain.

I tried to calm my racing mind with a gentle perambulation to Piccadilly, via the glamour of Old Bond Street. Rain was threatening to dampen my spirits further, when I turned the corner and came face to face with Fortnum & Masons. Looking like a scrumptious cake with icing of pale green, purple and gold, its bells were chiming a whimsical tune as the figurines of Mr Fortnum and Mr Mason appeared from behind the clock face.

The store windows were strewn with rose petals, white feathers and silver baubles, and displayed their renowned hampers stuffed with Christmas goodies of champagne, port, pies and stollen. It was all so marvellously traditional, so gloriously old school. Reminiscent of days before we were slaves to technology and at the mercy of the microchip.

This quintessential English luxury goods emporium dates back to 1707 and really is steeped in old world charm. Looking for refuge, I stepped over the threshold onto the raspberry carpet and was confronted with the confectionary department: jars of rainbow bright boiled sweets, assortments of decadent chocolates and rows of candied fruits shined under the light of the crystal chandeliers. It was an optical feast! Elegantly decorated Christmas trees were dotted about and with ‘Swan Lake’ as a running theme, the graceful bird appeared frequently throughout the store.

I ventured upstairs in the wood panelled elevator. The first floor was heady with the scent of dried oranges, apples and cinnamon from festive wreaths and decorations  (my husband J is such a nut for Christmas, he would have bought the lot in an instant.) A grandfather clock stood majestically beside a fireplace lined with stuffed stockings and boxes of crackers adorned with stars and crowns were stacked high.

I gravitated towards the chequered floor of the Cookshop and was reassured to see SW Very Vintage and Susan Crawford placemats in full view. I had a little snoop around for presents and the tea cosies from Poppy Treffry quickly caught my eye. I then fell head over heels for Julia Roxburgh’s luridly colourful tea sets inspired by the circus. The teapot lids are jesters’ hats flourished with golden baubles and are deliciously gaudy (sense of humour definitely required.)

Through to the tea parlour, where they had on display a collection of sorbets so tempting (strawberry and balsamic vinegar, bellini, clementine…) that you’d be forgiven for overlooking the bitterness of winter outside. For me, Fortnums was beginning to feel like a warm oasis, with a generous splash of fairytale. When I finally descended the grand staircase gift laden (and with emotional equilibrium restored) I felt grateful for the therapy of some good old-fashioned retail.  

Scarlett Willow