When Wimpey met Wayne

"If we don't want to work again, we don't have to," says Wayne, perching awkwardly on a blue sofa at his office – a converted Tudor-style semi near Wembley stadium in north-west London. "I could get paid more for two days work designing a dress for Barbie dolls than my fee from Wimpey. But we want to change volume housing in this country."

The unlikely alliance of streetwise fashionistas and one of Britain's more conservative mass housebuilders came about at the start of last year when Wayne launched a scathing assault in the national press on the "Wimpeyfication" of England.

Hemingway accused the firm of ruining the countryside with hideous Identikit executive boxes. But rather than issue a writ, Wimpey invited the couple to work with them. They accepted, and got involved in a £70m brownfield development at Dunston, beside the Tyne. "I must have caught Wimpey at a moment when they thought they had to do something different," says Wayne.

Last week, the first phase of 154 homes was given full planning permission by Gateshead council. Remediation work will start this month and Wimpey expects to start building early next year. Eventually, there will be about 700 homes on the 40-acre site, which is just 15 minutes' walk from Newcastle and Gateshead city centres.

But if you're expecting a riot of punky architecture, you're in for a surprise. The designs, released exclusively to Building, show rows of low-rise terraces with gardens (see plans, overleaf).

"Bodies such as the Urban Task Force and E E CABE say we've got to be more European," says Wayne (Gerardine is in the next room, working on the interior designs). "But I don't think it's what people want. Having a garden isn't wasting space; it isn't ruining the environment. The number one hobby in this country is gardening. You can't argue with that."

The Hemingways' design concept is based on instinct rather than any particular urban theory. They both grew up in working-class Blackburn – Wayne in a block of council flats, Gerardine in a back-to-back terrace – and their inspiration derives from childhood memories of playing in parks and gardens.

"I don't remember the flat," says Wayne.

"I only remember the graffiti and the smell of piss. But what I remember most are the landscaped areas where we used to play. So the first thing we thought when we started working with Wimpey was, 'What would attract people like us?'"

The Hemingways have never designed housing before, but they have certainly done their homework. To get up to speed on the latest thinking, they made a dozen trips abroad with their children, visiting acclaimed developments in Australia, the Netherlands, the USA and Sweden. Their children's reactions were taken as seriously as their own: "Kids have a clear vision of things from a very early age. If your kids are happy, you're happy."

We could have made it more visually exciting, but it would have been bloody expensive

For Wimpey, working with the duo has been something of a culture shock. "Construction is far more complicated than dressmaking, and the real challenge is that they're not from the industry," says Ian Laight, development director with George Wimpey City. "They've no architectural background; they've got no knowledge of the business. A lot of the things they aspire to are publicly subsidised schemes they've seen abroad. We can't do that. They don't understand things like section 106 agreements, environmental impact assessments and CDM regulations – and in some ways they're not interested."

But Laight says their naivety has been refreshing and their creative input inspirational. "I was sceptical when I first met them. They're fashion designers; I thought they were just going to be interested in surface finishes and colours. But they very genuinely want to improve volume housing in this country. They challenge you to ask yourself why you aren't being more forward thinking. In my career I've tried to put my head above the parapet on several occasions and I've been hammered down. They've encouraged me to start thinking more creatively again."

The Gateshead scheme – called Staiths South Bank – was already on the drawing board when Wayne and Gerardine were drafted in. Laight describes the couple's role as akin to that of a co-client, coming up with ideas and briefing the team led by architects Mark and Jane Massey (another husband-and-wife duo) of Newcastle practice Ian Darby Partnership. The Hemingways have integrated well with the team, Laight says. "There could have been a lot of professional jealousy but there hasn't."

Wayne agrees. "We've always been good at working in teams – being confident but not big-headed," he says. "Jane and Mark have been really nice to work with; they shared our vision. They didn't see us as poncey London designers muscling in. The Wimpey staff – not the bosses, but the next layer down – were quite antagonistic at first, but after a while they realised we weren't telling them what to do but wanted to work with them."

The Hemingways have not been given a free rein and the designs for phase one are a somewhat watered-down version of their original vision. Their central concept – houses with gardens arranged in blocks around communal pocket parks – has survived; but many of their more daring ideas, especially Gerardine's flexible interior concepts, have been vetoed on the early phases. Laight says later stages will be bolder if the scheme sells well, but Wayne is not perturbed: the fashion business taught him the art of compromise, he says.

"With Red or Dead, we wanted to be the first fashion label that was affordable, so we had to compromise all the time. The house designs look OK; they're modern but not frightening. We could have made it look more visually exciting but it would have been bloody expensive. The worst thing that could happen is that it would sell slowly on account of the houses looking a bit weird."

Staiths South Bank is a commercial venture rather than an attempt to build a utopia on the Tyne. There are no "affordable" homes: the council didn't want any as there is a surplus in Gateshead. Mid-rise, loft-style apartment blocks line the river front, and will be sold for a premium. But most of the units are homes aimed at average-income families, with prices starting at £65,000. "A couple on the local average wage can afford a two-bed house here," says Wayne. "That's really important. It's certainly not a yuppie development."

Wayne's experience with Wimpey has convinced him that poor-quality mass housing is not entirely the fault of housebuilders. "All parties are to blame," he says – notably planners, who he claims stifle innovation. "Gateshead council is quite forward thinking. It's been great working with them. But I've seen plenty of other planning committees, and they wear brown Crimplene suits and go home at 4.30pm."

Then there's architects: "Architects have quite a bad reputation among housebuilders who feel architects come in and don't listen, don't care about cost, and won't compromise on materials." Leading architects won't dirty their hands with volume housing, he says, drawing a comparison with the fashion industry. "The famous fashion designer can only think about self-fulfilment. They are not changing anything; they're just doing a few things for exclusive shops where few people can afford to shop. The real people who make a difference are working at Top Shop."