Author: Michael Chappell

One inexorable factor in the trade in English antiques is the payment of premises rent. Mind you, the placement of one’s stock in trade in a rural barn makes operating somewhat cheaper than, say, Jackson Square or Madison Avenue in the mid 70’s, but, then, location is everything.

Or has been, and certainly luxury merchants have known this for centuries, if not millennia. However, the capitalization and consequent proliferation of international luxury brands, Prada, for example, has rendered these formerly boutique retailers as fierce competitors for retail space in the best venues.

So it has appeared over the last few years, but one wonders whether the worm has turned. That luxury brands have gone mass market has made their retail outlets mere showrooms. Why buy in Union Square in San Francisco and cart something around when you can order it online and have it shipped directly to you? Very little question, at-store sales are declining, with what is lost in-store replaced by online sales activity. Since it isn’t hard to determine that a virtual as opposed to an actual store is much cheaper to operate, so-called national tenants are bailing out of leaseholds right and left.

What might sound the bane of the commercial landlord should prove a shot in the arm for the art and antiques trade, with downward pressure on commercial rents making landlords somewhat, shall we say, tractable. Will this result in the rebirth of waning venues? Time, and a bit of optimism, will tell.

Nothing quite so portentous as my blog title implies, beyond my sister and brother-in-law hitting town to enjoy the incoming with Keith and me. Breaking from their teaching duties, and us from minding the store, we will enjoy our rib of beef and Yorkshire pudding on New Year’s Day. My readers may not all know this, but our London residence coincided for a number of years with my sister and her family living in Hertfordshire. As it happened, we were separated by only 40 minutes door to door, with a convenient train service and their proximity to the station. Consequently, one  thing we did with some regularity was enjoy a Sunday roast lunch, an enjoyment we hope to reprise day after tomorrow.

With just the four of us, the table will be a little less grand, although I will again haul out what heirloom silver and linen, as they are my sister’s heirlooms, too. A smaller Regency period dining table will be pressed into service but with contemporary upholstered dining chairs. Astoundingly, with my sister now in Pasadena, I see less of her than when she lived in England. Keith and I want all of us to be comfortable while having a good long visit.

Given a bit of luck, and a tot or three of champagne, our visit will hopefully avoid focus on what has been a challenging year for all of us, and challenging for my loyal readers who are doubtless sick to death of my complaining. Let’s then, all of us, look forward with optimism to the New Year and gleefully turn our backs on the memory of 2009.

With my parents on the train homeward and the dishwasher laboring, I’ve a brief opportunity to review the day’s events. And I can happily say that Christmas Day was gloriously uneventful. The roast duck was everything it should be- moist and flavorful on the inside, with crispy skin without. The braised cabbage was about the tastiest I’ve ever had, and all of this preceded by my favorite starter, potted shrimps. Mind you, these might have been improved with brown shrimps from Morecombe Bay, but what we had was pretty damn fine, to quote a transplanted Yorkshireman- he knows who he is. All of this was served upon a Regency period mahogany dining table, of course I had to work that in, with the iridescent timber of the table articulating perfectly with the silver cutlery and china service.

Frankly, getting out the serving pieces that hadn’t seen the light of day for a year, the Irish linen likewise hidden away, and employing them to add to the enjoyment of our yuletide feast was about as much fun as I’ve had in a long while. What happens, and maybe this is a side benefit of getting older, was that I could muse on the other times these items have been used, earlier Christmases, fabulous dinner parties that were events in themselves, and, as my silver and Irish linen are heirlooms, the enjoyment my grandparents and their friends got out of them. This may be overstating things, but I don’t think so, that objects, precious though inanimate, do become iconic in the possession of those who can feel their iconic properties.

And, of course, my own use adds to their spiritual energy. That’s by way of saying the more beloved objects are used, the more they are enjoyed. With all that, one of my wishes this holiday season is that next year sees the silver out of its canteen with much, much greater frequency, and the dining table functions not just as an adjunct of the dining room, but becomes as it should be the center of all-occasion conviviality.

What has cyber Monday wrought? Hard to know, exactly, with the crowds crowding Union Square belying any notion that people are staying at home and browsing online. We took a few hours off yesterday and did a bit of shopping, and found the suburban shopping centre that we had gifted with our custom every bit as busy as I can ever remember. That said, Christmas 2008 is still a part of my memory, and things were not so good. Trust me, things are better, even in our world of English antiques, with Keith and I delivering a Christmas purchase to one of our better clients this afternoon. Not a dining table or a breakfront, but maybe when the bonuses kick in early next year.

And well they might. We do see the occasional hedge fund type nosing around and know that bonuses will be paid. Although it has not been without a significant amount of weeping and gnashing of teeth, that does not completely occlude the overall performance of financial and commodities markets this year. Cash flow? Not so strong. Portfolio appreciation? Significant, and that’s what the bonus is paid on.

So, with all that, we are cautiously merry, or at least to the extent we went to brunch yesterday. It is Dungeness crab season along the northern California coast, and both of us enjoyed superb crab omelettes. No Bloody Marys or Ramos Fizzes- I said we are cautiously merry.

Gore Vidal tells a story on himself about his reaction when Truman Capote, as Vidal put it ‘rode on ahead and crossed the shining river’. Or died, for those literalists of you out there. As Vidal has it, he thought a moment, and then said ‘That’s a good career move for Tru.’ Classic Vidal, and I would expect no less from the man whose favorite aphorism is ‘It is not sufficient that I win- someone else must lose.’ I’m put in mind of these bits of sour humor as it appears, as pointed out in an email this morning, that judging from the content of this month’s entries my mood is more than a bit tart during the month of December, which mood, I’d wager, is universally shared by dealers in fine art and English antiques. A significant amount of sincere interest is always shown in our stock in trade during the last few weeks of the year- but the purchases are put off in favor of cash used in tax planning. How draconian all governmental jurisdictions must be, that people fearsomely manipulate their personal liquidity in preference to trading with us.