notes

We’re fairly far along the fair season that traditionally begins with the Winter Antiques Show in New York, and for decades culminated with the London fairs in June, for decades the Grosvenor House fair, now sadly only of fond memory.

Other fairs have sprung up, but no venue seems to be doing much business. Attendance, save for the gala previews, is typically off. But galas do not very often engender sales, because galas are precisely that- parties with an elaborate backdrop provided courtesy of the art and antiques dealers. Mind you, was a time that the relationship between gala and dealer was, as it was originally conceived to be, a symbiotic one, with the partygoer almost invariably also a collector and, sufficiently fed and watered during the course of the gala, feeling good enough about his surroundings to splash out and make a purchase or three. This, for us, is the stuff of legend, as it all happened long before we came on the scene. In fact, we have only ever made one- count it- one sale at a gala preview.

Traditionally, shows were collector driven, but in the late 1980’s and through the first few years of this last decade, interior designers supplanted collectors. Consequently, when we entered this business, our marketing focus preshow was always to let the better designers know what material we planned to bring. A designer pack was always sent to them, replete with tearsheets detailing our better offerings, and sufficient passes to allow the designer, and such of their clients that might be interested, to attend gratis. Nothing magical in this, but astonishing the few numbers of other dealers that ever did this. And, frankly, it often paid off for us, as designers would shop the show, with clients in tow, and, if they didn’t actually make an at-show purchase, we almost invariably enjoyed some after-show business.

All this, however, is in the past. Of course, the financial meltdown of 2008 and the slow economic recovery haven’t helped the fairs, but one has to be honest and realize that fairs were very much on the decline prior to that. Our own success through 2008 was at best spasmodic, but generally the good fairs compensated for the bad ones. And, too, they are fun to do- the travel, the set up, the socializing with clients, and kibitzing with other dealers- it’s all great fun. But unless backed up with some sales, extremely expensive fun. We’ve never done a fair that, with all expenses totaled including personal travel, goods transport, stand rental and amenities, was ever less than $30,000, and some cost us considerably more.

What will rejuvenate the fair scene? That’s an open question and, to date, none of the new fairs seem to be anything other than the old fairs redux. A gala preview with a benefit charity, a lecture series, and attractive stands populated with good quality dealers- it’s a standard formula and lately, not a very successful one.

A trade publication is reporting, in response to the high numbers of buyers failing to complete on purchases, a number of continental auction houses are requiring significant albeit refundable deposits in advance of accepting bids. Worthy of note, this action has been so far limited to items of specific interest to Chinese buyers. It appears that the Chinese rogue buyer of the reticulated vase, formerly famous and now infamous and the subject of my last blog, must have some friends, or at least shares questionable business practices with others of the same collecting bent.

Of the many interesting facets of the high profile Chinese activity in the trade has been that its effects both good and ill have been felt largely in the salesrooms. The best private dealers have so far certainly not benefited from any of this, witness their numbers shrinking by the day in the world’s art cities. It has seemed to me that the received wisdom amongst Chinese collectors is that the best source at the lowest price has been the salesrooms. With so many moneyed new, still wet behind the ears collectors coming out of China, it is little surprise that they’ve not cottoned on to how fraught with difficulty buying at auction really is. I am reminded of attending several sales in London over the course of a week or so several years back. Every one of them was attended by the same woman, notable for her, shall we say, large appearance. Any piece of better quality English furniture with a bit of gilding on it, she tried to buy. And, she did, but every last one acquired at a huge premium. As any trade purchaser knows, the salesrooms always provide the novice with a baptism of fire, and this poor lady, though doubtless unaware, was well and truly burned. Everyone has a budget, and it serves trade buyers well to get rid of competitive buyers by exhausting their resources early. As a consequence, certain salesroom habitués will intentionally bid up a piece that someone is feverishly seeking to acquire. Then, when a piece has reached unreasonable levels of price, the unscrupulous underbidder will stop, and the fevered bidder will find themselves the owner of something inordinately expensive- and their wallets flattened. This is what’s known as having a piece dropped on your toes. Our large lady in London certainly must have had all her metaphoric toes broken. Has this happened to any of the redoubtable Chinese grandees? Unquestionably. Are a few of them now aware of this? With the recent defensive maneuvering of the salesrooms lately, I’d venture to say yes.

Mind you, most auction houses are able to withstand the predations of the rogue buyer. Rarely does an item leave the salesroom without its having been paid for, and if something remains unpaid and uncollected, the worst thing that happens is that a consignor is disappointed and the piece is reoffered for sale. Better luck next time, I suppose. In this day and age of huge and exhaustive price databases, private dealers all now know that, to stay in business they are obliged to be price competitive. Soon, the new collector pool that China represents will realize that dealers are just as good a resource as the salesrooms. Better, of course, because nearly all specialist dealers will have a much broader base of knowledge, and can spend considerably more time in working for the individual collector- assessing the quality of the requirements of the collector and putting good quality pieces before them, prior to being offered for sale to the general public. Times being the way they are, though, most dealers are pretty hungry, so it is my hope that, in an effort to cash in on the inevitable migration from the salesrooms to the dealer’s galleries, a lesson is learned from the experience of others, and that conservative trading practices prevail. By which I mean, taking a line from a well known film, ‘Show me the money.’

The images are horrific, but the human cost, unless one’s in the middle of it, is unfathomable. Japan is an astonishing place, but the might of the natural world clearly maintains the upper hand. Regardless of one’s place in that world, even a society as developed as Japan, where thorough preparations are watchwords, assistance is required, and for those of us who, for the moment, enjoy the benefit of safety, all need to generously contribute for the benefit of those who in an instant had their lives shattered.

We were pleased to have a few minutes yesterday with our good friend Suzanne Rheinstein, in town in advance of her book signing and launch of an additional range in her fabric line at Lee Jofa. For the few of you who don’t know Suzanne, reading her newly published book,  At Home: A Style for Today with Things from the Past will provide an accurate portrayal of the lady and her talent. ‘Accurate’ may sound prosaic, but in this age of media flim flam and depth limited only to the 140 character limit on Twitter, knowledge that something accords completely with one’s own experience is refreshing. With all the concomitant promotion of Suzanne just at the moment, the lady remains her usual demure self. She apologized to us yesterday for her lack of vivacity, due in part to fatigue from a recent trip. I shouldn’t wonder, as that jaunt included stops in Umbria, Sri Lanka, and the Maldives.

We first became aware of Suzanne through our acquaintanceship with her good friend, the redoubtable author and style  journalist Julia Reed.  It is said that one is known by the company one keeps, and in Suzanne’s case, our mutual friendship with remarkable designers Courtnay Daniels and Joe Nye further proves the old saying certainly axiomatic.

Not so very long ago, we had been to a small party at the house in Hancock Park Suzanne shares with her no less remarkable husband Fred. It was informal and jolly as are all the functions Fred and Suzanne host, with plenty of places to sit, stand, and room to mingle. In usual fashion, a buffet supper was served, but its service was a seamless adjunct, and not an interruption, to a convivial evening. Guests with plates of delicious jambalaya-a nod to Suzanne’s New Orlean’s roots- continued on with conversations seated throughout the house and on the stair treads. By way of a thank you, we had given Suzanne a small porcelain tureen that had once belonged to John Gielgud. Although really just a kickshaw, the provenance, while just by the by, caused the ever forthright Suzanne to warn us ‘You know, I always use my things.’ Well, of course, and that’s one of many aspects that makes Suzanne’s designs so wonderful- while dignified and genteel, there is yet a manifest comfortability that makes them always appealing, both to look at and to enjoy. And with Suzanne, we’ve had the good fortune to discover this first hand.

During our tenure in the trade, we’ve sold lots of period soft furnishings, with the earliest in date a pair of late 17th century back stools, with needlework upholstery. Nicer to look at than sit upon, but then, the chairs were going into an entry hall, so to look at was functionally more important than to sit upon.

With all that, the received wisdom seems to be generally that period soft furnishings will be rickety at best and always uncomfortable. Keith and I had blithely surmised that, if something were comfortable, it would have been sat on so frequently, therefore, that it would have worn out long since and been discarded. Consequently, it was only the uncomfortable pieces that survived. Perhaps there’s some truth to this, but the fact is, save that pair of backstools,  every piece of soft furnishings we’ve handled- chairs, stools, settees, and sofas- have all been comfortable, and, as much as a modern piece, will stand up to daily use. The joints can be tightened, the horsehair padding can be made more cushion-y with a layer or two of dacron (parenthetic note to collectors- never, ever remove or discard the horsehair padding!), and the result is frequently nothing less than stunning.