Kenneth Partridge: Interior designer whose best-known work was an expensive refit of John Lennon's home

He knew a huge array of people - at the kitchen table might be Lord Olivier, Natalie Wood, Tennessee Williams, or Ingrid Bergman, all of whom relished his unbridled wit

Partridge in his London studio

A few years ago, the interior designer Kenneth Partridge asked his partner of 66 years, the film and television producer Derek Granger, to look in the wardrobe for some boots with elasticated sides and Cuban heels. These had belonged to John Lennon, whose large house, “Kenwood”, near Weybridge, had been redesigned on a lavish scale by Partridge's team in the mid-1960s. At the end of this nine months' work, Lennon had given each of Partridge's workers one of his ties as a souvenir. Never slow, Partridge asked, “what about me?” It was then that, Lennon, now bereft of ties, bestowed upon Partridge the footwear.

At heart sentimental, Partridge kept the boots but, also pragmatic, he realised some 30 years later that in a forthcoming sale of Beatles memorabilia these might net him a tidy profit. Under the gavel at Sothebys, they went for around £3,000, an emblem of Swinging London, and of a time when Partridge found his true métier and began working at the heart of London fashion. Although it is often assumed that the era belonged to those scarcely in their twenties, much of what happened in music, film and design owed a great deal to a generation which, like Partridge, had survived war service and was thankful to be alive and revel in these new freedoms.

Through his own efforts and the occasional lucky chance, Partridge had established a career after a modest upbringing in Brockley and Orpington, where his father was manager of an electrical works. Born in 1926, he was due to leave Herne's Rise school at 14 but a savvy art master, Mr Redmond, recognised his special talent and insisted that he attend Bromley School of Art, which provided a broad understanding of art and design. This led to his joining the advertising agency J Walter Thompson in 1943 as a lay-out artist. He was, however, soon enlisted at the coalface in the South Wales mines as one of the first Bevin Boys. After transfer to the RAF, he returned to London, and, despite the pervasive austerity, became eager to employ his innate sense of style to the drab post-war world.

In 1952 he was taken on by Simpson's of Piccadilly, whose window displays, supervised by the redoubtable Natasha Kroll, became a particular forté. (She later joined the BBC.) Needs must, they regularly made something distinctive from slender means. This led him to Elizabeth Arden's on Bond Street and then Jaeger, whose Regent Street windows were his fiefdom. Now able to rely upon the support of such friends in the fashion world as Hardy Amies and Norman Hartnell and the Hungarian émigré silk manufacturer Nicholas (Miki) Sekers, he turned freelance in the early-'60s.

In 1949 he had met Derek Granger who was living in Brighton as a local journalist (in an interview with him there, Evelyn Waugh remarked, “ours is a most exacting trade, isn't it, Mr Granger?”). A retired naval Commander was organising a weekend party; the Commander's house was full, and so he asked if Granger could put up a blond-haired, good-looking South London fellow. “Kenneth knocked at my door, I gave him a bed for the night – and he stayed 66 years.” They were among the first to have a civil partnership.

Granger was to take the production helm at Granada Television, whose work was at the forefront of those changing times, including a notable film about the emergent Beatles. Partridge had already met Brian Epstein through the flamboyant lawyer David Jacobs (who died mysteriously in late-'60s Hove). Partridge had developed a line in creating party settings which impressed Epstein, who himself had tried to improve window design at his family's furniture firm. In the summer of 1964 he asked Partridge to create a setting at his Knightsbridge flat to celebrate the Beatles' conquest of the world.

Partridge's design spilled over to the roof, adorned by a red carpet and a red-striped marquee for a crowd which included Mick Jagger, Lionel Bart and a tottering Judy Garland. Wine and adrenalin flowed, and John Lennon – also a former art student – asked him to make over the rambling, hilltop, 16-room Surrey house where he and Cynthia sought refuge from the fans who had besieged their London flat.

Kenwood has become the stuff of legend. Given free rein by Lennon, Partridge's team often worked while he was away on tour and Cynthia, with an infant son, retreated to the house's small attic flat. “Feeling totally out of our depth,” she recalled, “we gave him carte blanche to do as he chose... All we dared do was peep into the rooms from time to time to ask how it was going, usually when yet another tea break was under way.”

Once the work was finished, costing twice as much as the house itself, room upon room, some knocked through, stood revealed in ornate hues and bold colours. “It felt far more strange to move into the whole house and suddenly have lots of large rooms to use,” said Cynthia Lennon. As many visitors remarked, Lennon seemed never to feel happier than when he was spending his time by a kitchen table amid cats and with the television on. Although Cynthia looked back and deemed Partridge “tyrannical”, Lennon was happy to recommend that he decorate Ringo's London flat in a similar manner and be a part of the team which fitted out Apple's ill-fated Baker Street boutique.

Partridge's Beatles connection can dominate this section of his life, but in fact he knew a huge array of people. One might never know who would be in the throng for lunch in his Kensington house or, latterly, Millbank flat, or at the seaside Brighton flat he shared with Granger. At the kitchen table might be Lord Olivier, Natalie Wood, Tennessee Williams, Ingrid Bergman, all of whom relished his unbridled wit.

Partridge had, naturally, a keen eye for art. His collection is strong in John Piper, who became a friend, as did Graham Sutherland, and he was delighted to acquire a notable Burra and a fine Frank Auerbach. Among others to whom he was close for many decades was Elisabeth Welch, whom he had met in 1949 in Brighton, some years after her arrival from America. He saw her through the last stages of a long life, so much of which was spent upon the stage.

Equally close was Claudette Colbert who, during their holidays at her Bahamas home, insisted that there be no showbiz talk. Although it was a decree for which everybody felt much the better, it must have been tempting for Partridge to regale the company with such observations as Olivier's emerging from his Steyning swimming pool and pointing at his ageing physique before sadly muttering, “and to think this was once a Hollywood sex symbol!”

If Partridge's life appears gilded, he was also happy to work on the first “makeover” television programme, Make It My Place, which saw a suburban house transformed. Later he became familiar with smaller premises during his time as a prison visitor, across the country, for Lord Longford's New Bridge initiative.

Partridge could inspire one and all with a sense of life's possibilities. Perhaps his infectious fun is best caught by his arranging Hardy Amies' first men's catwalk show, at the Savoy in 1961. Amies appeared on stage at the end, taking a bow with the models, and trumped Partridge by having secretly arranged for the creation of a gargantuan papier-maché gloved hand adorned with bracelets and rings which waved regally behind them all. Amies told reporters that this was the Queen giving menswear her seal of approval – something at which she was amused when word of the spectacle reached her.

Bold and forthright, Partridge brought out zest in others. Once, at a talk by Quentin Crisp, the audience were asked to submit written questions. Crisp read out Partridge's: “Would you like to come home to dinner with me afterwards?” He replied, “Yes, Mr Partridge, I would.” Partridge had made another friend for life.

It was in the Sixties that Partridge played his most dynamic role. His lifelong energy owed a lot, however, to his not looking back too much, and particularly at those creations which, by their ephemeral nature, adorned only the brief moment for which they were conceived.

Kenneth Alexander Partridge, interior designer: born 24 August 1929; civil partnership with Derek Granger; died 7 December 2015.