The Wallpaper the Founders Would Have Loved
Every founder had a thing, a fruit, a flower, a bad-tempered parrot. Here are fourteen of them, each paired with a real wallpaper that tells their story.
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A 4th of July walk through the patterns America’s founders and first ladies might have hung, each one drawn from a true story, and each one you can actually buy.
Every founder had a thing. A fruit, a flower, a bird, a bad-tempered parrot. Here are fourteen of them, paired with a real wallpaper that tells their story, because the best way to celebrate history is, obviously, to put it on your walls.
The Founding Fathers
George Washington — the pineapple
At nineteen, on his only trip outside North America, Washington tasted fresh pineapple in Barbados and was smitten. Back home, serving one became the ultimate flex of hospitality, and Mount Vernon made him the most celebrated host in the colonies. (The cherry tree, sadly, is a myth.) Hang Pineapple Damask by Rifle Paper Co., a pattern built on the very symbolism Washington helped invent.
Thomas Jefferson — the herbarium
Jefferson kept a 50-year handwritten record of every bloom at Monticello, growing over 100 species of flowers, and once kept a “sensitive plant” just to amuse dinner guests when its leaves folded at a touch. Botanical Sketchbook by the Royal Horticultural Society, a literal catalogue of heirloom leaves and blooms, is the closest thing to wallpapering his garden book.
Benjamin Franklin — the lightning
The kite. The key. The storm. Franklin’s most famous experiment began with a thundercloud, the rolling, electric sky he flew his kite into. Nuvolette by Cole & Son, a wall of dramatic billowing clouds (Fornasetti’s design, its name Italian for “little clouds”), is the charged heaven itself, exactly the sky Franklin dared to reach into.
John Adams — the apple orchard
Adams admitted he’d have been happiest as a farmer. He pined for his Peacefield orchard from Philadelphia, missing the cider Abigail pressed from their heirloom apples. Ancient Apple Orchard by Sanderson, a tunnel of old apple varieties, is the most personal motif for America’s most homesick Founding Father.
Alexander Hamilton — the Caribbean palm
Hamilton was the only founder forged entirely by the tropics: orphaned on St. Croix among sugar plantations and hurricanes before a single brilliant letter carried him to America. Osterley by Timothy Wilman Home, tropical palms heavy with pineapples and exotic citrus, honors the turbulent island paradise that made the architect of American finance.
James Madison — the library
Madison built the Constitution not in a war room but in a quiet Montpelier library of 4,000 books, after a winter spent reading 400 of them on why republics fail. Ex Libris by Cole & Son, shelves of leather-bound volumes, is the perfect tribute to the man who governed by the written word.
Paul Revere — the silver
Before the midnight ride, Revere was Boston’s finest silversmith, the hands that crafted the treasonous Sons of Liberty Bowl. Malabar by Cole & Son, all metallic silver paisley, is the physical signature of colonial America’s most famous craftsman.
John Hancock — the signature
His name became the word for signature, that bold, looping flourish is American history’s most famous penmanship. Calligraphy by Coordonné, flowing ink brushstrokes across the wall, is the most direct tribute possible to the hand that defined defiance.
The First Ladies
Martha Washington — the needlework
Martha’s needles never stopped, she knitted socks for soldiers at Valley Forge and was still stitching chair cushions at 69. Gertrude by G P & J Baker, a reimagined 17th-century crewel embroidery, captures the domestic artistry that rivaled her husband’s military legacy.
Abigail Adams — the garden rose
While John was off declaring independence, Abigail ran the farm, raised the children, made the cider, and told her husband to “remember the ladies.” Apothecary Rose by Sanderson, an English garden chintz with a textile finish, is as tenacious and lovely as she was.
Dolley Madison — the macaw
Fleeing the burning White House in 1814, Dolley saved the eight-foot Washington portrait and her bad-tempered Brazilian macaw, Polly, who once bit the President to the bone. Macaw by 1838 Wallcoverings, bright parrots in fruiting trees, is twin icon of her flamboyant courage.
Martha Jefferson — the music
The Jefferson romance was sealed by a duet: Martha at the harpsichord, Thomas on violin, so lovely two rival suitors quietly withdrew. Instrumental by Brand McKenzie, a whole orchestra caught mid-performance, gives that shared “favorite passion of the soul” a wall of its own.
No verified portrait of Martha survives, so pictured here is her daughter, Martha Jefferson Randolph, painted by Thomas Sully.
Elizabeth Monroe — the French Empire
La belle américaine charmed Paris, once rode alone to a prison to free Lafayette’s condemned wife, and refurnished the White House in gilded French Empire style. Napoleon Bee by Timorous Beasties in gold is the literal imperial motif she brought home.
Louisa Adams — the silk
The first foreign-born first lady bred silkworms on the White House lawn and spun her own silk, quietly radical creative self-sufficiency. Chinoiserie Hall by Sanderson, branches alive with flowers and butterflies, is the most beautiful tribute to her cocoon-to-cloth artistry.
Happy 4th. Whichever founder shares your taste, may your walls be as bold as their signatures.
Pattern picks via Wallpaperdirect.
