The stripe has a stranger history than almost any pattern. In medieval Europe, as the historian Michel Pastoureau has shown, stripes were deeply suspect, the mark of the outcast, worn by jesters, prisoners and those on the margins of respectable society.
Then, remarkably, the whole meaning flipped. By the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries the stripe had become the height of elegance: the Regency drawing room, the striped silk, the humble ticking of a grand bed, the deckchair on the promenade. From outlaw to aristocrat in a few hundred years is quite a journey for a pattern.
"The stripe went from the mark of the outcast to the height of elegance, and kept both characters."
A Scandalous Past
The grandest end of it is still the most obviously historic. Ravi Ribbon Garland, from The Srinagar Map by Lewis & Wood, packs ribbons of flowers into vertical bands and is sold by the metre. Tradewind in Teal / Spice, from Kit Kemp Wallpapers II by GP & J Baker, does the same thing in a lighter, wittier hand, and Trail Head in Wild Sage, from Vista by Thibaut, threads the whole idea down to a whisper.
Gunnebo, from Österlen, and Eleonora in Blue, from Herrgård, both by Boråstapeter, are the Swedish manor-house version: fine, close stripes that have been quietly papering grand rooms for two centuries.
The Most Useful Pattern There Is
If a stripe had to be summed up in one word, it would be architectural. More than any other pattern, a stripe shapes a room. Verticals draw the eye up and make a ceiling feel higher; horizontals stretch a wall and make a narrow room feel wider. It is pattern as a tool, and a designer's quiet way of correcting a room's proportions without anyone noticing.
Elin in Ochre, from Averly by Romo, and Oundle Stripe by Sophie Allport both run floor to ceiling and lift a room as they go. Tilford Awning Stripe, from Jardin by York Wallcoverings, is the broad, confident version, and Canopy Stripe by Cath Kidston the softest.
"A stripe is pattern as a tool: the quiet way to fix a room's proportions."
Drawn fine enough, a stripe stops being a pattern at all and becomes a texture. Shadow Stripe in Porcelain, from Elegance by Hoopla Walls, is barely there at £28 a roll. Ink Wash in Desert Sun is painted rather than ruled, Offset Stripe, from Revive by Eijffinger, breaks the line deliberately, and Estelle in Burgundy, from Familjen by Sandberg, is fine enough to read as cloth.
How and Where to Use It
Let the stripe do its architectural work. Use a vertical to lend height to a room with low ceilings, or grandeur to a hallway. A wide, bold stripe makes a confident modern statement, while a soft tonal one is among the most useful backdrops there is, at home in any room in the house.
For the bold end, Wide Stripe in Ink, from Simply Stripes by Ohpopsi, and Bold Line and Painted Line, both from Mix & Stripes by Caselio, are as graphic as the pattern gets. Herrgård in Blue and Silver Grey, from Ester by Galerie, takes the same idea somewhere darker.
And a stripe will happily carry another pattern inside it. Palm Leaf Stripe by Joules runs leaves up the drop, Ikara in Bleu Nuit, from Blue Shades, breaks its line into dashes, and Hedda, from Nordic Folk, threads a folk motif through it.
A stripe is also the perfect companion to a bolder pattern elsewhere, giving the eye somewhere calm to rest. Sonnet Stripe in Blue by Superfresco Easy does that for £19.48 a roll, the cheapest thing here, and Yuki in Coal, from Shibori, does it in near black and gold.
And then there is the stripe painted by hand, which is a different proposition altogether. Raya in Ciruela, from Toscana by Coordonné, wavers and pools like a watercolour, and under a sloping attic ceiling it turns an awkward room into the prettiest one in the house.
Browse the whole striped collection, or classic and traditional and coastal and nautical for the looks either side of it, and order a sample first: a stripe changes character completely with the light in the room.

