The Pattern
A floor that announces itself, quietly.
Herringbone is older than most of the great houses it lives in. The pattern first appeared as Roman road paving — clay bricks set at angles to better resist the movement of heavy carts — before finding its way into 16th-century French chateaux as parquet de menuiserie. By the time the Galerie des Glaces was laid at Versailles in the 1680s, parquet was the floor of choice for every room that mattered.
What gives herringbone its enduring appeal isn't just the craftsmanship it implies. It's what the pattern does in a room. A plank floor draws the eye down a corridor; a herringbone floor holds you where you are. It grounds a space, adds rhythm, catches light differently from every angle. In a formal drawing room it feels classical; in a glass-walled kitchen extension it becomes strikingly modern.
“A plank floor draws the eye down a corridor; a herringbone floor holds you where you are.”
More than one way to lay it
Most people use “herringbone” as shorthand for anything with a zigzag, but the family is broader than that. Single herringbone is the classic rectangular-block pattern. Double herringbone pairs narrow planks for a finer, more delicate effect. Chevron cuts each plank at an angle so the points meet in a continuous V — more contemporary, more demanding to fit, unmistakable in person. And Versailles panels — the most elaborate of all — are square sections woven from interlocking rails and central diamonds, each one a piece of furniture in its own right.
We stock all four, in engineered oak and in luxury vinyl. The right choice depends on the room, the ceiling height, the light, and — honestly — how much of a statement you want the floor to make.