A Useful Recommendation With Paula Gerbase

Paula Gerbase is a woman of distinctive taste; the kind that shapes every element of a life. We catch her soon after a move from London to Copenhagen to learn about the daily practices that continue to ground and shape her days. Of them, is her recommendation for a Japanese brass tea caddy — a traditional vessel she uses to store her daily dose of Mugicha Roasted Barley. “It is very much an everyday, almost mundane kind of ritual. I love when the simplest everyday gestures can be elevated through the objects that we choose to surround ourselves with.”

For Paula, the details are everything. And yet, since her early life, she has always been happiest up a mountain; hiking boots on, a lungful of very fresh air, with a startlingly wide view of the world around her. Paula Gerbase was born in Brazil and grew up in Switzerland, before moving to London and embarking on a path in fashion. Once in the city, she cut her teeth training with Savile Row’s esteemed tailors, later running cult London-based label 1205, serving for a long stretch at luxury bootmaker John Lobb, and then her eponymous brand Gerbase.

Now, a new chapter. Last year, Paula and her family relocated to Copenhagen to newly focus her attention on Georg Jensen, the historic Danish design house she now serves as creative director, overseeing everything from a carefully composed collar necklace to a sculpted water pitcher; a spoon, candleholder, compact mirror or pinky ring. Silverware has never been so fine.

In this new-ish role, her attention falls, as it always has, to detail, gesture, and ritual. The tiny choices we make that adorn the body, or frame small everyday moments. “There is a connection with objects which have been made with the human hand which cannot be replicated,” she explains. “Imperfection and materiality both play a part, as do generations of skills passed down from artisan to artisan, no matter the field.”

My brass tea caddy was purchased in Kyoto about 10 years ago, back when I used to spend a lot of time in Japan. I spotted it in a local tea shop in use, standing proud sentinel-like on a shelf alongside others just like it, each one containing different aromatics, grains, leaves and dried flowers. When I first purchased it, the gold colour had a pristine, mirror-like polish. With time and through use it has obtained the patina of a well-loved quality object.

There is a special quality to ‘imperfection’ which develops through the elements of touch and time which has always fascinated me – it elevates objects in natural materials that have the power to evolve with their users touch. It’s the mark for me of objects which are built to last not just for a season but for generations.

These canisters are very traditional Japanese storage containers conceived to keep foods and tea leaves from moisture and humidity. They have been produced since 1875 by the pioneer makers of tin plate canisters, and have now been hand-crafted for over a century in the same way.

I love its quiet presence, its functional charm, its unassuming and matter-of-fact shape. Its simplicity is also its genius, as it is an object which is beautifully conceived for function – under the outer lid sits an air tight little ‘shelf’ with a button-like handle, which is also a resting place for the measuring cup, made from the same material as the canister itself. For me, the ritualistic choreography of opening each element of the caddy to find my way to my chosen ingredient signals the beginning of a quiet moment at the end or in the middle of a busy day.

The tea caddy is the storage for my Mugicha Roasted Barley. I first tasted this infusion in Hakone in Japan, in accompaniment to some homemade Soba Noodles. It was a very rainy day and after a hike we took shelter in a small local shack by a bridge overlooking a river. I don’t believe that place had a menu, and only a few tables set on a terrace with a simple roof in bamboo. Sometimes the biggest luxury is relinquishing all control and allowing yourself to be taken care of. To this day I think it was one of the best meals of my life.

This is definitely a solitary ritual for me – usually in the late morning, or in the late night after dinner. The Japanese teapot I use is made for the equivalent of one single cup of tea or alternatively 4 smaller drinking vessels. I have a collection of studio pottery mostly from British and Japanese ceramic artists, so making the choice of vessel is a ritual in itself, always finished off by placing it on a beautifully crafted sterling silver tray made by the expert hands of my friends and colleagues – the master artisans of the Georg Jensen Silversmithy in Copenhagen.

Moving to Copenhagen from London has been quite the contrast both in scale and also in rituals. Our apartment is on the second floor of a building from 1875, with many original features still very much adding to its character. Wood panelling in most rooms, and crown mouldings throughout. Our dining room is at the heart of the apartment and is a very generous circular room we have filled with plants, sculpture and objects from our travels. It is our gathering place around the table, often with very late dinners or on the weekends with breakfasts that seep into early afternoons. During the dark months, candlelight brings much-needed light – in particular the large candelabras, designed for a church by Søren Georg Jensen, give a reverence to the spaces which has a magical touch.

My daily rituals have not changed too much but getting to know a new city has given a renewed dimension to the day-to-day. Finding ‘your’ spots in a city, be they cafes, restaurants, galleries or parks, takes time and sometimes no matter how recommended a spot is by others something makes it not feel entirely yours.

Feeling somewhat disorientated in a new place can feel isolating, but it is invigorating in equal measure. It’s great to be challenged, especially for me when ‘my’ cities over the last 20 years (London and Paris) had perhaps become entirely second nature to navigate. There is a certain muscle memory when you walk or navigate through a city that has become part of your intimacy through time. Sinking into that subconscious comfort in a new place takes time and countless wrong turns, to finally make the connections in body and environment.

If I could choose anywhere in the world to wake up for a perfect Sunday it would be at our chalet in Switzerland with my family. We’d rise before dawn to get ready for a hike. If you can drag yourself out of bed at 4am and be at the base of the mountain by 4:30am, by the time you’re half way up on a clear day the skies and the chain of mountains will come into light and it’s the best view in the world. A few hours more to summit, a picnic at the top – my choice would be a fresh baguette, some aged mountain cheese, local salted butter and lots of cornichons. On the way down we would stop at a glacier river for some fresh water and a rest in the sun, and maybe a wander in a special bit of the landscape where years ago we found a field of wild strawberries that we have gone back to year after year.

Once down by the village in late afternoon we would go for a swim in the lake, then drop by our friend and local wine producer for a glass of his no-intervention Pinot. Armed with a bottle or two, we would then go back home to pull together some simple home made pizzas in the outdoor pizza oven. Nothing fancy – just great homemade dough, some buffalo mozzarella, a generous amount of red chilli and a heap of red onions.