notes

The art and antiques fair season is truly on us, with our colleagues Reindeer Antiques having concluded the BADA Fair in London, Maastricht winding up, and ourselves preparing for the Los Angeles Antiques Show in late April. This will be our 6th LA Antiques Show- hard to believe!- and something we love to do. I’ve written about this before, so will only mention it in passing- the LA Antiques Show is one of the few vetted shows in this country, by which I mean every item is looked at and certified for authenticity by a panel of experts. Consequently, every purchase can be made with confidence. Further, dealers are invited to participate in the show based on their established (good, of course!) reputation. This sounds like shameless self-promotion, but, again to reprise something I’ve discussed over and over, for the occasional and the beginning collector who really wants to expand their knowledge base, and the interior designer whose hands are already full dealing with clients, the vetted show provides the perfect venue for seeing the best of the best, establishing thereby both a quality and pricing benchmark. Buy at a vetted show, and be assured of getting what you are paying for.

All that said, we do go to Los Angeles to sell, not just impart knowledge to browsers. And, frankly, our experiences at the show have been, in the main, very good. The occasional at-show sale is generally supplemented by follow-on business, as it is for most of our colleagues. In addition to the material that any given dealer has on offer, the collector and the interior designer often times likes a particular dealer’s look- the type of gear, how it’s deployed, and so forth. As well, relationships are everything, and we find, thankfully, that our clients tend to be repeat buyers. Again, that’s not self-promotion- our colleagues at the show all have exactly the same experience. And, of course, that is why the shows should be seen by dealers as collegial: not only do none of us have exactly the same material- even when our areas of specialization are similar- no one dealer has the same look as any other dealer.

We look forward to a good show in Los Angeles and all this in spite of the, shall we say, flux in the financial markets. I’ve said enough in past blog entries about, for example, the so-called sub prime mortgage market. Suffice to say, no one has yet telephoned us in a panic, offering their collection of 18th century furniture at a knock-down price in order to stave off foreclosure. Unfortunately, the antiques trade abroad has felt more of the impact of all these things than we have locally. The trade abroad has never really recovered from the fear of travel induced by 9/11, and now already tough trading conditions are exacerbated by the weakness of the dollar. In London, the reduced number of American buyers, the trade’s traditional mainstay, is now combined with the influx of oil-rich Russians, who, although occasionally making antiques purchases, find owning London real estate more to their liking and are driving property prices, and rents, through the roof. I wrote over a year ago about the fate of Mount Street, a traditional venue in London’s Mayfair, now taken up less by fine antiques dealers than with the likes of Louis Vuitton.

But, I understand our colleagues at Reindeer had good traffic at the BADA Show, and pressing the flesh is where it all has to start. Frankly, we love to do shows, talk to people, including other dealers who we never have a chance to see except at shows. And, we look forward to good attendance at the Los Angeles Antiques Show. It’s interesting, but the slow down in the residential housing market has, in some respects, had a positive impact on our business. With low interest rates and rapid appreciation, people at all levels were formerly obsessed with churning their homes, with the challenge to see how quickly a house could be built and decorated, and then be put back on the market for what seemed the certainty of a hefty payoff. Certainly, the cycle has slowed, and our clients, many of them, are obliged to stay put. What’s happened, though, is the homeowner who didn’t particularly care if he had a piece of furniture not to his taste in, for example, the entry hall- since, of course, he was going to sell the house in 6 weeks anyway- now he has to look at something he dislikes for the indefinite future. The result? Now we have shoppers- who are spending the time, and, critically more important, spending the money- to find the right piece. So- will the Los Angeles Antiques Show be remunerative? I’d bet on it.

It is the new year, the stock markets are in, shall we say, a state of flux, and housing starts are at a low ebb. With all this, we still find we are able to make the occasional sale. In fact, we delivered a nice piece of goods to a wonderful home in southern California just last weekend and had a chance to visit with the homeowner, an astonishing businesswoman with a sense of optimism tempered with a practicality acquired, no doubt, through the school of hard knocks. Even though she’s a veteran of the rough and tumble of business, she is certainly one of the kindest people I’ve met recently, and generous with her wisdom.

Her home is magnificent and in the three years since its acquisition, she’s done some great things to it, without altering its original design integrity. Actually, she’s almost entirely reversed the damage done by the previous owner, whose garish lack of taste resulted in an interior scheme she characterized as ‘early Christmas tree lights’. She, however, is a business woman through and through, whose homes, to date, have been merchandise she has bought and sold. She does, however, like the home she’s in presently, as well she should, and is happy to stay. Herein, then, is the valuable bit of market intelligence she has communicated to us- she is happy to stay in her home during the present real estate nadir, and, while not looking for the next project, she can focus, then, on the home’s perfection- patiently looking for and finding just the right pieces of furniture and artwork. She has slowed the pace down from what was formerly always moving to a frenzied completion, with an eye for immediate sale.

In the last several years- certainly from 2002 through 2005- a number of our interior design clients were working on projects at a pace that one would expect if they were trying to complete an interior design show house- which, in fact, they were, as many of their clients were expecting to cash in on a sale once the project looked remotely complete. No designer I’ve ever met enjoys working under such pressure to complete. Creativity can’t be rushed, and inspired design, informed by a collaboration between the designer and the client takes months, if not years, to accomplish. What, then, I think we will see from the present market slowdown will be an efflorescence of fine design, the kind of design that can only take place when the designer has the time to get to know the client, really understand the project, and also has the opportunity to fully utilize the resources that the marchands mercier make available.

We sold a late 18th century sideboard the last week of 2007. Actually, sideboards were a hot item for us this past year, including a small piece that was purchased by a Paris-based collector for his apartment in the Marais. Now that I think about it, last week’s sale was to a Parisian, too- this time an interior designer, working on a project in Los Angeles. 

Frankly, our business in 2007 is much improved over 2006. We sold plenty of good quality Georgian pieces that, as with the sideboards, no one seemed too interested in in 2006- or the last half of 2005, for that matter. But we also sold a goodly amount of mid century furniture in 2007 and had some favorable notice taken of the contemporary furniture line we’ve developed. 

While not suggesting that English sideboards are suddenly in vogue amongst the style-cognoscenti of France, and, though not planning on cornering the market for good quality Georgian sideboards any time soon, neither will I abandon this piece of basic dealer gear. Trying not to read too much into the sideboard phenomenon, the implications of the recent sales, and the happily now distant dearth of sales,  are worth considering.

Our core business remains quality 18th century English furniture and, as we  don’t wish to confuse our clients- both collector and interior designer- we would shrink from any abrupt change in what we do. We have worked hard to establish ourselves as a resource for our specific material. Our clients don’t buy from us all the time, but when they are ready, we want to be available to them with the quality stock in trade that they have come to expect.

With all that, we don’t want to be unresponsive to changes in clients’ demands, either. Where so much of our business is now driven by interior designers, it is imperative that we be seen as a resource for quality pieces, regardless of period. Although I have no wish to do the designer’s job for them, we also want to make certain that, within the environment of our own galleries, at least, we subtly suggest how these pieces fit together- how, for example, the Printz sideboard of the 1930’s visually articulates with the George II walnut chair back settee of the 1730’s.

This balancing act, frankly, is the dilemma, with the sideboard as the trope. How long can a shop like ours stay the same, and  how risky is it to make a change? That’s an open question, and don’t, my ten devoted readers, expect to find a simple answer here. What is abundantly clear, though, is that Style will cycle quickly, and with the internet as the communications vector, traditional English can, as we’ve seen lately, easily find its way into a French aesthetic.

Keith McCullar and I must have spent at least an hour the middle of last month deciding on the appropriate text for the interior of our holiday cards. This is more difficult than it might seem, as our worldwide client base encompasses a variety of religious traditions. Thanks, however, to the hegemony of the Christian tradition, everyone expects a holiday greeting this time of year, regardless. One of the many knock-on benefits from the Crusades, apparently- we only have to send out seasonal greeting cards in December.

And we are happy- honest!- to provide a greeting, as it forces us to look back on the year and count our blessings. We do, too. Don’t think I am minimizing the importance of the health and prosperity we enjoy, but the fact that we are still in business, where a number of our colleagues have bit the dust, is certainly a fact we bear in mind. One our neighbors, ostensibly successful and a venerable 30 years in the trade, told me at a holiday party a week or so ago that he is always within 30 days of letting all his staff go. Now that’s thin!

When I occasionally remind Keith of our blessings and how often we should count them, or when I ask him if the mail has come, for that matter, he looks at me with his face screwed up and says ‘You know this is a stressful time of year for me!’ Consequently, this is the month I imitate a Trappist, at least  around Keith. But when I break the silence, it will be met with his December mantra ‘You know this is a stressful time of year for me!’

Although it gets old hearing it from him, Keith’s refrain does encompass some pretty significant features about how our business operates. It is highly cyclical during the course of the year, and about our lowest ebb is the period from mid December through mid January. We sell a number of large dining tables and long sets of dining chairs during the course of the year, but none of them during the month of December. So many of our clients make purchases in January when, you guessed it, the yearend bonus comes in. The $75,000 early period dining table and $50,000 set of chairs that might have come in handy in December is just going to have to wait until the following month. So- it’s Ikea and possibly folding chairs from Mom until then.

For us, though, it is an expensive month, as our inventory acquisitions ramp up considerably to accommodate those bonus buyers in January. And it does turn around quickly, most years, but it is a close run thing, as our sales slump is quickly followed by what is generally our busiest sales period. In November and December, our restorers and shippers, as well, are kept pretty busy, not unlike Santa’s helpers, with work that needs to be complete by year end.

We stay open, though, at least in San Francisco. Our colleagues at Reindeer Antiques in London, who have been at this a lot longer than me, give up just before Christmas and don’t reopen until the New Year is safely upon us. We persevere, because we do have some action from clients- or so it seems. Every year, our website hits and web inquiries go up this time of year, and we pin our hopes on these inquiries as perhaps leading to a sale. We are a bit dim, I guess, because it took us a year or so to cotton on to the fact that our web activity goes up because of all the people at home, with a lethargy brought on from eating and drinking too much, whose sole activity is surfing the internet. Well, you surfers, you may not mean business, but thanks for thinking of us, all the same.

When my partner Keith McCullar first entered the world of work 25 years ago, he would frequently return home in the evening dramatically out of sorts. He would grouse, complain, pick fights. None of this would have made much difference, but yours truly was always the target. During the course of the evening, Keith would let on that something happened at work that put him, let us say, on edge. This went on for quite a time, until I finally asked Keith the obvious question- ‘Do you take your work related problems out on me?’ He looked at me like I was more than a little dim and responded emphatically ‘Of course!’.

Although Keith thought to be a free lance punching bag was my role in life, I wasn’t too keen on it. Being a bit more mature in years and consequent experience, I suggested to Keith that he might try to mitigate a bit of his pent up irritation by directing it back toward those at work who had engendered it. Don’t pick a fight, but if you have a disagreement or feel put upon at work, don’t be afraid to give it voice. Keith gave this a try, and, pretty generally, it worked, and our domestic bliss was restored. 

We all get angry though, don’t we? And frustrated? The constant dissipation of one’s anger is essential, unless we all want to be either the shooters or the random targets in shopping mall shootings.

Although some misdirected souls use assault rifles, it is surprising how many people use e-mail to say things they would never have the guts to say personally. So it’s always been, even with snail mail, and that nearly now extinct form of spleen venting, the letter to the editor of the local newspaper. My British friends still are firm believers in the efficacy of what they term a stropping letter. Personally, stropping letters always find their way immediately into whatever round file I find nearest at hand, or sometimes are joyfully fed into the paper shredder. My attitude is, if someone had some real issue that needed my involvement for resolution, they would have contacted me personally.

But the e-mail has almost entirely taken the place of the stropping letter in this country. As I think about it, the e-mail is the communicative equivalent of the assault rifle, or the high altitude bomb, something that can be lobbed onto a hoped for victim from a long way away. None of this had occurred to me until I was having a beer at a Christmas function last night and Hans Koch, a San Francisco builder-developer, joked about it. Considering all the crap Hans has doubtless put up with in the development of his great residential project, the Residences at Jackson Square, Hans must be the soul of equanimity. The city permitting and inspection process, the building trades, goofy neighbors with time on their hands- all with access to e-mail and all with what seems a mission from God to be transmitters of free-form rage.

What we both agreed on, though, was the often paradoxical nature of the hostile e-mail, paradoxical in that these are often follow-ons from what might seem positive face to face meetings. Who knows why they so degenerate? Keith McCullar, in his own comforting way, always tells me that I’m to blame, since I am known to bring out the worst in people. He, however, always tells me that personally: his e-mails are generally quite cordial.