We start a new project this week and it makes me happy.
We’re creating a brand identity for a new interiors shop that will be importing the most beautiful pieces: furniture, homewares and gifts from the Middle East. I immediately caught our client’s passion for her business and was excited to be creating something with so much potential. But as I was pondering the vision for the brand I realised that there’s a deeper reason that this resonated with me.
My father is Persian and I have a deep and complex love for the culture. As I was growing up I’m not sure I ever appreciated the richness that this diversity in our family would bring. We lived in a very beautiful part of the New Forest and had a blissful childhood: lots of climbing of trees, playing for hours in the forest and making things. Although I lived on Kharg Island as a baby, we fled in 1981 as the bombs dropped on the island and the country fell into a long and bitter war with Iraq. My (English) mum, then several months pregnant with my sister had to leave everything behind and travel alone with a toddler on a bus to Istanbul. Dad managed to escape a couple of weeks later. We never returned.
Persia in the British culture
My experience of Persia has always been second hand: through reading, artefacts in our home, talking to relatives, and of course, the food.
Food was a labour of love in our family. Dad would spend hours in the kitchen whipping up exotic dishes that reminded him of home: khoresht (a Persian stew) or Pilau Addas (Chicken with barberries and rice) heady with spices; homemade Noon breads that he would start at four in the morning and finally pull out of the oven in time for our lunch. We’d eat with lots of fresh salads, mezze style dips and beautifully steamed rice with Tahdeeq – sliced potatoes cooked in the bottom of the saucepan which the rice would steam on top of. It was delicious, but certainly different to what my friends at primary school were eating.
As a child this embarrassed me. I couldn’t understand why we couldn’t just eat a roast dinner or sausage and chips like any other family. Or Findus Crispy Pancakes (can you imagine? Yuk!). And as I grew into my teenage years the clash of cultures brought with them their own challenges. I was far from a tearaway, but our English way of life was a long way from deepest, darkest Shushtar.
As I’ve grown older and wiser, and had a family of my own, I love and respect this approach to life. I notice that my friends love to eat with my family because of the deal we make of it. I’ve learned that my parents approach to food is both wonderful in terms of health, but also wellbeing. Mealtimes, talking, sharing and eating good food are a big deal in our family. And so they have become so in mine. Hospitality has always been important in the Persian culture and that feeling of warmth and welcome is never far from my mind.
This upbringing has cultivated a love of food and over the years I’ve gathered an extensive collection of cookbooks: devouring anything related to Persia, Lebanon and Morocco (not geographically Middle Eastern but there are clear similarities in their approach to food). You can capture a lot about a culture in their food can’t you?
Every now and again relatives would arrive, stopping over for a couple of nights on their way to their new lives in more glamorous parts such as San Fransisco and Los Angeles. England was a handy mid point and they wanted to see how Parviz (as they called him) had done for himself. Dad was the youngest of 5 sisters and one brother and being the only surviving boy was a bit of a big deal. He’d made his life in this new country and each of them had a deep affection for him. These relatives could barely speak English, so communication was a bit of a challenge, they’d often walk around the house in their coats and blankets muttering about how cold it was, but at mealtimes everything changed.
We would feast and communicate over the food. They would all be gibbering away in a language I’ve often attempted, but never succeeded in mastering. Mum would do her best to keep up, but you can do a lot with a smile and the right body language.
Back to the brand
When I think of the Middle East I’m transported to a world of heady scents: spices, herbs and incense. Of intricate pattern, craftsmanship and detail. It’s a feast for the senses. Fresh (mint, oranges, limes, barberries – zhereshk- and lemons), rich (khoreshi, Fesanjan {a rich pheasant stew}, sweets) and evocative. Persian food is all about the smell, the texture and the taste. It may not be as refined or elegant as French cuisine but it’s real, it’s honest and it’s hospitable to the extreme. Persian culture is about welcoming people into your home; making them feel comfortable, special and cared for. It’s about rich, jewel colours and opulent textures: gold, velvets, Persian rugs. And it gets me right in the heart.
And as an English woman who has grown up with a Persian influence I’m excited. I don’t want to create a replica of Persia, Lebanon or Morocco for this brand. I want to create something fresh for our client. But this deep understanding and love for the Middle Eastern culture will be channelled in to this brand identity and I’m really looking forward to creating something remarkable.
Tagged as in Case Studies, Flourish Stuff, From The Studio, Inspirations
