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FINDERS KEEPERS | MASTERS & MUSES | WORLD OF CABANA
The Zetter Bloomsbury, designed by James Thurstan Waterworth, opened its doors this spring in the shadow of the British Museum. Taking the neighboring institution as his point of reference, James sourced nearly 2000 antiques and artefacts for the project. In a special edition of Cabana’s Finders Keepers series, James shares the stories behind ten exceptional pieces found within this unique hotel.
BY EMMA BECQUE | MASTERS & MUSES | 26 JUNE 2026
The Zetter Bloomsbury. Photography by Joe Clarke.
Sharing a wall with the British Museum is an exceptional context for any hotel, and when The Zetter took on six interconnected Georgian townhouses in Bloomsbury, it required a designer with both a scholarly eye and a collector’s instinct. Enter James Thurstan Waterworth, founder of the London-based design studio Thurstan.
After four years of sourcing, storing and obsessing over antiques “with nowhere to go”, thousands of pieces found their place inside what he describes as “a sewing of beautiful pieces from around the world”. Across the hotel, guests encounter objects and references drawn from Greek, Roman, Egyptian, Saxon, Peruvian and Asian cultures.
Taking the neighboring museum’s collections as a starting point, Thurstan has created something difficult to achieve in hotel design: a sense of gravitas without stiffness. Sofas are made to be slouched into, books are there to be read, and antiques become points of conversation rather than things kept at a distance.
The secret to decorating such spaces, he says, lies in trusting your gut. “I want guests to find respite from busy London among the eclecticism of pieces I have personally found and obsessed about for years. I know where every object and fabric is sourced. This hotel is for people who pay attention to, and care about, nice things.”
Collection of Toy Soldier Figurines
These discovered at Clarkes Auction Rooms among a mixed collection of toys and military memorabilia. They are modest objects in many ways, but often those are the pieces that carry the strongest sense of narrative. I have always been drawn to things that feel as though they have lived a life before arriving in a room.
More than anything, they evoke a sense of childhood. They are the sort of objects many people recognise instinctively. They also remind me of my father; he lives in a Georgian house, and in his snug, there is a fireplace where he displays his old Liverpool Subbuteo team from the 1970s. When I came across these soldiers, I was immediately reminded of that scene. Positioned along the mantelpiece, they sit in a setting that feels entirely natural. It was only later that I realised the arrangement unconsciously echoed my father's fireplace. In hindsight, that memory almost certainly informed the decision. Sometimes the best interiors are shaped by these small, personal references that find their way into a space without you even realising it.
Collection of Pencils
The crayons came from a small art shop just around the corner from the hotel; it was a much more spontaneous discovery. They're not rare or valuable, and there wasn't a grand concept behind them. What appealed to me was their familiarity. Like the toy soldiers, they tap into something many people recognise from childhood.
There's something universal about lining up your favorite crayons, pens or toys in a neat row and taking great pride in the arrangement. They also introduce a small moment of surprise and humour, which helps soften the formality that can sometimes come with historic buildings and collections of antiques. I didn't have a specific location in mind when I bought them. It was only when they were lined up on the mantelpiece that they felt right. They make the space feel more domestic, almost as though someone's children have been playing there earlier in the day.
The Turkman Kaftan
I found this kaftan on a sourcing trip to Istanbul, tucked away in a tiny dealer's shop down a side street, a hole-in-the-wall type of place. It was one of those wonderful places that you could easily walk past without noticing, and was packed floor to ceiling with objects, textiles and fragments. What I love most is that it was never intended to be an artwork. It was a practical, everyday garment that had acquired character through age and use.
The colors are particularly beautiful. The rich reds have softened and faded in places, creating a depth and variation that would be difficult to reproduce today. The silk detailing around the sleeves adds another layer of interest, while the wear and patina speak to a long history of use. I've always been drawn to objects that blur the boundaries between art, craft and function. This piece does exactly that.
This kaftan was actually one of the first pieces we hung in this room, and it felt right almost immediately. The scale worked really well on the wall and brought a richness of color, texture and character to what might otherwise have been a quieter corner.
Wall-mounted Textiles
These textiles came from a London dealer with whom I’ve worked for years. I’m pretty sure I have him on speed dial now. He has an extraordinary collection of antique textiles from around the world, and I spent two or three years gradually acquiring pieces as the project developed. It wasn't a matter of buying everything at once; it was a slow process of discovering individual pieces and finding those that felt right for the hotel.
These particular pieces originate from the Mossi people of Burkina Faso, where weaving has been part of everyday life for generations. Crafted using traditional West African weaving traditions and naturally dyed using indigenous plants, they have the most beautiful, rich indigo tones. I love the texture and warmth they bring to a room. The subtle variations in color, the stitching and the evidence of age all add a richness that is difficult to replicate. They feel honest and deeply human. These pieces felt particularly appropriate because they embody so many of the qualities we wanted throughout the hotel: craftsmanship, history and a strong sense of place.
A Unique Table Lamp
This was one of a pair of painted table lamps converted from early 20th-century Indian exercise clubs, which we found at auction. They're the sort of objects I’m always drawn to, pieces that have had a previous life and carry a sense of history with them. I love the proportions. They have an elongated silhouette that's both elegant and unexpected. The hand-painted decoration is incredibly pretty too, simple but very beautiful.
I love that they began life as functional, physical objects and have been transformed into something entirely different. They also have a global sensibility that reflects the British Museum's influence on the project, while feeling at home in the Georgian setting.
A Series of Ceramics Bowls
We found these ceramic bowls at auction in Holland. They're part of a remarkable collection of celadon bowls recovered from the Jepara shipwreck, a Song Dynasty trading vessel that sank off the coast of Indonesia and remained underwater for centuries before being salvaged in the late 1990s. Beyond their age, it's their journey that makes them so extraordinary. They were made over 800 years ago, travelled along ancient trade routes and spent six centuries beneath the sea. The soft celadon glazes, subtle variations in color and the layers of patina they've acquired over time are incredible.
I love the imperfections that have developed over time and the incredible story behind them. Knowing that they've lain underwater for hundreds of years gives them a real sense of mystery and romance. They're also wonderfully tactile; you find yourself looking closely at each one because no two are quite the same.
African Masks
We sourced these masks from dealer Owen Hargreaves, who specialises in African antiques. They're incredibly pared back, yet they have such a strong presence and sense of character. Pablo Picasso was hugely inspired by ancient African masks like these, so they have a wonderful connection to the development of Cubism and modern art.
Each one has its own distinct personality despite not being overly detailed. The patina is wonderful too, so many different marks and shapes created by the different hands that made them.We positioned them at the end of a corridor where they're naturally framed by a doorway, creating a lovely focal point as you move through the building. Although each mask was acquired individually, they came together really well as a group. The large, floor-standing, checkerboard mask adds an unexpected sense of scale, color and texture, while its graphic black-and-white pattern contrasts beautifully with the simplicity of the three smaller masks and the softer colours and antique furnishings around it.
A 20th-century Harvest Basket Vase
I found it at a tiny local market in Shepton Mallet. It was sitting amongst all sorts of odds and ends, but it immediately stood out. It's actually an early 20th-century harvest basket from Southeast Asia, originally used by farmers to carry rice, vegetables and other produce on their backs. It would have been made by the farmers themselves using traditional weaving techniques.
What I find so special is that it wasn't created as a decorative object; it was made for a practical purpose by skilled craftspeople using local materials. You can see the skill and ingenuity that went into its construction, but it's completely unselfconscious.
We were looking for something to use as a floral decoration on the bar, and its height and form lent themselves perfectly to repurposing as a vase. Filled with branches or seasonal flowers, it becomes something more dramatic while still retaining its original character.
The Roger Hilton Artwork
We found this piece via an English Auction house. This is one of Roger Hilton's later works, made in 1974, towards the end of his life, when he was largely confined to bed in St Ives and often drawing with his left hand. I've always loved the economy of his work. There's a wonderful confidence in the simplicity of it, just a few marks, a handful of forms and this extraordinary burst of color, yet it has a huge amount of energy and presence.
I've always been a great admirer of Hilton's work. What I find so compelling is his ability to distil things down to their essentials. I love the purity of the forms and the way bold red seems to animate the whole piece. It has a wonderful spontaneity and optimism.
Art plays an important role throughout the hotel. Hilton's work has a distinctly British character, which felt very appropriate for Bloomsbury. It sits within a broader collection of post-war British art that nods to another local connection, Howard Hodgkin, whose studio was nearby.
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