Homes: the house inspired by Russia – in pictures

For such a committed Russophile, Cathryn Constable waited a long time before she finally set foot in the land of snow-covered steppes and onion domes – three years ago, on a trip to St Petersburg with her husband, Charles. “I worried it would be a huge disappointment, which is why I put it off for so long,” she says. → Photograph: Beth Evans for the Guardian

Happily, Russia was just as she had imagined since falling in love with its literature as a young woman. After devouring the classics, she discovered lesser-known writers such as Isaac Babel, Ivan Bunin and Aleksandr Kuprin. “I love the snowy landscapes, the refinement, the duels, the swooning,” she says. “I would come back to Thomas Hardy or George Eliot, and they always felt lacking.” → Photograph: Beth Evans for the Guardian

The trip was the catalyst for Constable’s first book, a children’s novel called The Wolf Princess, filled with forests, trains, winter palaces and men named Ivan. “I couldn’t have set the story in Britain. For me, Russia is akin to Narnia, it’s otherworldly,” she says. “The story is old-fashioned, but I have an old-fashioned sensibility – I love fairy tales, vintage clothes, shabby antiques.” → Photograph: Beth Evans for the Guardian

Her home, a sprawling townhouse in Islington, London, built in 1820, is filled with the latter, and reflects her passion for Russia. At every turn are fur throws, sheepskin rugs, scuffed frames, vintage knick-knacks and wintery foliage; lace and crochet cover almost every flat surface. The walls are an elegant grey-white (Dulux’s Lead White). → Photograph: Beth Evans for the Guardian

The impression is that of a count’s faded townhouse in a Tolstoy novel, all original flagstone flooring, parquet and high ceilings. On closer inspection, however, oil paintings of grand Russian ladies are reproductions (try allartclassic.com), while the white rugs that dot the floors are from Ikea, as are bookcases and side-tables. She paints frames in white poster paint, and isn’t afraid to haul things from skips, ask shop-owners for objects in windows, or take stuff left on the street for grabs. “Polished, minimalist homes are perplexing,” she says. “Too many people seem to model them on boutique hotels, but they have no soul. I’m more drawn to artists’ studios, artful clutter and hand-me-down china.” The chandelier, above, is from Abigail Ahern. → Photograph: Beth Evans for the Guardian

Constable moved here six years ago. It was for “practical reasons” – more space for her three children – and she has never grown to love it the way she did their previous house. As a result, she has never put up any pictures; they lean on walls or sit on mantelpieces. Hanging them properly, she says, would be “far too much commitment”. → Photograph: Beth Evans for the Guardian

“Our old home was smaller but I loved it. This is a Karenin house,” she says, of Tolstoy’s character in Anna Karenina, “whereas our old house was Vronsky. You’re lucky if you have one in your life that you truly fall in love with.” The Wolf Princess is published by Chicken House at £6.99. To order a copy for £5.59, including mainland UK p&p, call 0330 333 6846 or visit Guardian Bookshop Photograph: Beth Evans for the Guardian