Geoffrey Houghton Brown was one of the most exciting decorators of the Art Deco period between the two world wars, and yet strangely his name has been lost to time. Somewhat eccentric, he was also a painter and antique dealer with a penchant for DIY and trompe-l’oeil, his flat at Thurloe Square in South Kensington bearing witness to this and his maximalism. In his obituary in 1993, Country Life evocatively described it as a world of ‘glinting Boulle, gilt tables and stands, lacquer, Louis XIV porphyry with ormolu mounts, tapestries, an Aubusson carpet and the multicoloured effect of porcelain in glazed cabinets’. Openly gay at a time when homosexuality was illegal, Houghton Brown lived with his partner, the interior designer Ronald Fleming, among other artistic types. He also converted to Roman Catholicism later in life, dabbling in religious painting and translating the work of Nostradamus, before donating much of his money to the church.
Houghton Brown died before Hugo Beazley was born, but his great-great-uncle’s design ethos and bohemianism are something of a North Star for the budding interior decorator. ‘Geoffrey’s legacy is of world-building and a bit of smoke and mirrors, mixed in with “proper” furniture with provenance,’ he says. ‘He took a lot of the pretension out of decorating, because houses are just houses. We’re just making sets for our lives, so decorating is quite a fun way to almost create that stage.’ When he was a young boy, Beazley’s grandmother would often say he reminded her of Houghton Brown, long before he knew he was gay or had any kind of formal interest in interiors. ‘This idea of queer inheritance, and inherited taste, is what I find so interesting about Geoffrey,’ he says. ‘Despite existing in different centuries, we seem to occupy a similar world.’
Earlier this year, Beazley quit the corporate world (he was a brand strategist) to pursue his passion and he has recently unveiled his own antique and interiors business, Houghton Brown, named after his forebear. He previously worked for Rita Konig, and in 2025 launched his cult Substack newsletter, HB Edit, featuring furniture from his Ebay watchlist, which would promptly sell out. With Houghton Brown, he hopes to make antiques more accessible to a younger audience by selling a mix of affordable and high-end pieces; all this while also consulting on interiors for clients.
We are speaking in Beazley’s charming three-bedroom flat, which is spread over the top two floors of an 1820s Regency house on one of the most sought-after streets in Camberwell, south London. With its sloping floorboards, wonky doorframes and floor-to-ceiling windows framing views of London plane trees, it’s hard to believe you’re in the city. Beazley bought it four years ago, having fallen for its ‘homely’ period details and the neighbourhood’s tranquil, village-like atmosphere. The flat feels remarkably lived-in thanks to its mix of antiques, heirlooms, knick-knacks and artwork. It bears the sort of patina that most young homeowners can only dream of, and it could almost belong to someone far beyond Beazley’s years.
He describes his style as accumulative and cautions against all-at-once furnishing and decorating. ‘I have friends who buy their first flats, and they go to John Lewis and buy everything because it’s easy,’ he says. ‘But that’s more expensive, and it’s so easily replicated, so it feels less unique.’ Instead of buying clothes or technology, as most people in their twenties might, Beazley has spent the past four years acquiring antiques, art, books and tableware for his home. ‘There’s a sustainability element to antiques that I think resonates with young people, because the last thing we need in this world is more stuff,’ he says. ‘Finding these old things that have age and a story helps to make your home feel more layered and eclectic.’
At the heart of it all is a light-filled open-plan kitchen and living room, with two jute rugs underfoot – one from Nordic Knots, the other a more budget-friendly Ikea number (the owner is an exponent of high/low décor on account of his own financial constraints). The standout piece is a glass-panelled black dresser made from old bakers’ doors, acquired at the Newark fair in Nottinghamshire, and stuffed to the brim with pantry goods and tableware. ‘I’m drawn to ebonised things since a lot of the decorating greats like John Fowler and Nancy Lancaster have always said that you need black in a room,’ says Beazley. The teak chairs and table came from his grandmother’s holiday home on the Isle of Wight, and have been softened with cream-and-orange-striped cushions with ribbon ties. ‘A lot of my taste could probably be seen as a bit grannyish,’ he says. ‘But it’s good to have a mix of mid-century and some older things.’
A large Slim Aarons photograph, Tennis in the Bahamas, presides over the living room next to a small charcoal portrait of Houghton Brown by Oliver Messel, in which Beazley’s great-great-uncle is depicted as a saint with a halo, in a nod to his latent Catholicism. The living room is cosy yet refined, with bamboo chik blinds from Joss Graham, a pair of tattered Danish leather-and-rosewood chairs acquired off Ebay, a large cream sofa, a black lacquer table piled with books, a single bookshelf, and vintage lamps perched on just about every available surface. ‘I read this thing by the American interior designer Billy Baldwin about “the logic of the eye”, which is about not being guided too much by symmetry, but trusting your eye about what looks comfortable,’ says Beazley. This tracks – the charm of his home comes from the feeling that, around every corner, something unexpected will be discovered.
Guests will encounter miniature, almost devotional displays of artwork on each floor of the flat. ‘There’s so many levels, landings and little nooks and crannies in this house,’ says Beazley. ‘If I have two days at home with not very much to do, I will literally rearrange the whole house. I see these nooks as more opportunities for me to “decorate”.’ Inside a small, charming study painted in a rich tobacco ochre, he tacks up his obsessive collection of postcards by artists such as Alice Neel, Christopher Wood and Ben Nicholson on a small cork board – a mini museum of sorts.
The influence of Beazley’s great-great-uncle is most keenly felt in a remarkable Neoclassical bookcase originally acquired by Houghton Brown from Heveningham Hall in Suffolk. A photograph of it appeared in that Country Life obituary, and here it is in all its gilded and marble-topped glory in Beazley’s bedroom. ‘I like the fact that it’s a bit shabby chic,’ he says. ‘It’s not deliberate, but it had sat in my grandmother’s hall and was probably knocked by the hoover.’ An upstairs bathroom, drenched in icy-blue paint with another Slim Aarons photograph hanging on the wall, features a chequered floor in cream and brown lino – a trompe-l’oeil touch of which great-great-uncle Geoffrey surely would have approved.
Looking through Hugo Beazley’s home, a passage from that Country Life obit feels uncannily prescient. ‘In his flat, Geoffrey was concerned to present an ambience which suggested the accumulation of centuries… Surely there was no-one who could seemingly, without care, throw objects together with such flair as he.’ Now, Beazley is readying himself to follow in Houghton Brown’s footsteps and launch himself headfirst into his own interiors business. ‘When I speak to antique dealers at fairs, or more established interior decorators, they’ve all said: “It’s a lifetime of joy,”’ he says. ‘“You’ll connect with people, and be surrounded by beautiful things. It’s the happiest thing to do.”’
