The news that the National Mall’s Reflecting Pool has been painted a shade of institutional beige has, predictably, sent America into a paroxysm of self-regard. Live feeds show tourists squinting at the opalescent surface, wondering if this is some avant-garde performance art or a colossal misstep by a municipal employee with a tin of Dulux. From my vantage point across the Atlantic, the spectacle is deliciously instructive.
It confirms what British landscape architects have whispered for decades: that Washington, DC, for all its neoclassical pretensions, possesses the aesthetic instincts of a municipal swimming pool attendant. The Reflecting Pool, a mirror meant to evoke the eternal verities of the Republic, now resembles a flooded car park. This is not merely a matter of taste; it is a symptom of a civilisation in decline.
The Romans painted their aqueducts, but only after the barbarians were at the gate. I am Arthur Penhaligon, and I am here to tell you that this beige blotch is a metaphor for a nation that has forgotten the difference between monument and folly.
