Theodoris Konings of Phelippeau Tapissier on craftsmanship, longevity, and why the finest rooms are made by hand.

The call came on a Monday morning. A well-known decorator was working on a private residence in London, and every bay window in the house was rounded. So far, no problem. But the family wanted Roman blinds—and a Roman blind, by definition, goes up and down. “They needed a round Roman blind,” says Theodoris Konings. “In my opinion, it doesn’t exist because a Roman blind goes up and down. So how can you make something that goes up and down, and is round?”

This is the kind of problem that often finds Konings, International Sales Director at Phelippeau Tapissier, the renowned upholstery and drapery company. He has been solving problems like this for 35 years—since he sold his first pair of curtains, aged 18. “I’ve always had this thing with curtains and furniture,” he says. “Can’t remember otherwise.” He once upholstered a custom baby seat for a Bentley. “That I think was ridiculous,” he admits. “It was fun to do, but an extremely expensive operation.”

In the trade, everyone knows him as Thed. He is tall, broad, and always turned out in plaid jackets and improbable colors—sea greens, burnt oranges—as if his own workroom had stitched his wardrobe. He speaks four languages with a thick Dutch accent, and is known for breaking out in a booming cackle that can make a chandelier tremble. His surname, Konings, means “of the king” in Dutch, and over three decades he has constructed a realm of his own, where upholstery is a sacred profession. It is also, he insists, a profession the luxury industry chronically undervalues—a disparity he confronts with characteristic bluntness.

Konings has an encyclopedic knowledge of his trade. “The word upholsterer comes from the one who upholds,” he says. The craft traces back before Christ—from the padded seats of ancient Egypt to the velvet chambers of medieval kings.

A graduate of Design Academy Eindhoven, Konings ran his own firm for 17 years before joining Phelippeau Tapissier in 2023. Maury Riad, CEO of Fortuny, calls him polarizing in the best possible way. “He will tell you your head is shining, that you look exceptionally short today, and then show you a stitch so extraordinary he breaks into that cackle all over again.”

A 200-year-old upholstery atelier

Phelippeau Tapissier, the six-generation French atelier, shares his respect for history. The company was officially founded in 1953 by Roger Phelippeau, but it draws from a family lineage of couturiers, weavers, and upholsterers with roots tracing back through the 19th century and even to medieval times. Today the company is led by Alexandre Phelippeau, headquartered in Paris, and a member of VIRTUOSE, a consortium of thirteen elite French craft companies. They also do a lot more than curtains.

What upholstery really means in interior design

In practice, modern bespoke upholstery encompasses four distinct fields: curtains, furniture, installations such as wall hangings and stretched fabric walling, and a service dimension that includes design consultation and engineering. The work of a house like Phelippeau is to develop solutions that do not yet exist, for rooms that have never been imagined. It is this depth of bespoke upholstery, applied across every dimension of a space, that defines the firm’s approach to upholstery in interior design.

Why craftsmanship determines longevity

Every interior is a wager against time. The odds depend entirely on the craftsmanship. Konings is direct about what he considers a success.

The evidence appears at auction houses, he says. The hallmark is the finish, and what excels the craftsmanship is what will last in time. Well-built pieces command serious prices decades later because the frame was sound and the luxury upholstery material was constructed to withstand time. Contrast this with hotel lobbies where corners cut on the upholstery produce furniture that degrades within two years—the entire space declining into a cheapness. A good craftsman, he says, is only as good as his materials.

The choice of luxury upholstery material determines the entire internal architecture of a piece. A silk brocade demands a rigid frame and horsehair padding to prevent pooling. A cotton-linen blend requires precise tensioning to hold its shape over decades. Velvet calls for careful orientation and firm padding to maintain its sheen. Each textile dictates its own engineering.

Why Fortuny fabrics challenge upholsterers

Konings and Phelippeau recently collaborated with Fortuny at WOW!House London, the annual designer showhouse event, creating a primary bedroom with Tomèf Design. “I think Fortuny is one of the most fabulous things to work with,” Konings says. “A Fortuny fabric has a hand”—the trade term for how a textile feels and falls, its weight, and drape, and texture. “It is a story. It is so many different things.”

“Because of the beauty of the Fortuny fabric, you always have to be very careful not to take the life out of the fabric,” he says. In the Phelippeau workshop, seamstresses match the pattern where the eye will see it rather than forcing mechanical alignment. They cut on the thread rather than by the printed line.

The challenges compound with each application. Fortuny’s handmade textiles are inherently irregular—panels can arrive slightly off-grain, a natural consequence of artisanal production rather than a flaw. A cotton-backed design intended for wall upholstery behaves entirely differently from a silk destined for a sofa where someone will sit 150 times a day. At Phelippeau, each cut length is hung for days or even weeks before stitching, allowing the fabric to settle and reveal its true drape. Even Fortuny’s selvage—the finished edge that most workshops discard—becomes a design element in skilled hands. These are the details that separate an interior built to endure from one cheaply assembled to impress, using poor materials.

The future of upholstery: tradition meets innovation

“Foam, in my opinion, was the beginning of the end of our métier,” Konings says. What once required hundreds of hours of handwork with horsehair and coils could suddenly be achieved in a fraction of the time. But foam does not last, cannot be repaired, and resists recycling. He despairs at the sight of fast fashion’s influence on textile manufacturing. “I’ve seen machines in Germany. You put one roll of fabric in one side of the machine and you push a button and the other side the whole curtain comes out.”

Phelippeau’s approach points toward a correction. When a client recently requested carbon-neutral furniture, the team developed a sofa consuming only 1.88 kilowatts—drawing on nineteenth-century techniques for 80 percent of the construction. An ingenious blend of yesterday’s techniques and tomorrow’s. Between Phelippeau and Fortuny there exists something increasingly rare: a complete chain of craft, from fiber to finished room.

As for those round Roman blinds in London? Konings and his team are developing them now. It has never been done—which is exactly the kind of problem he lives for.

For designers working at the highest level, where materials must justify their presence over decades, the dialogue between textile and craftsmanship remains decisive. Request samples or connect with our team through Fortuny Bespoke.