We’ve just concluded a sale-less dialog with a prospective buyer who seemed genuinely interested in part of our stock, who then purchased something similar from someone else. This happens, of course, and the prospective punter was, I hasten to add, not part of our regular clientele. A spot buyer, he did however, point out what he ultimately purchased and from whom. While we offered something of what I would term collector quality, what was purchased was a revivalist piece of much later period and, not surprising, a whole lot cheaper. Decorative, but not collector quality, or what an old dealer colleague of ours would have termed ‘cheap and cheerful’.

Mind you, not everyone who darkens our real and/or virtual door is stamped ‘connoisseur’ and as I’ve written before, my partner Keith McCullar has often over the years interceded when my own dialog waxed a bit loquacious. Not everyone wants to know about fire gilding, or the trading history of 18th century Yorkshire cabinet maker Wright & Elwick. It is perhaps that I am obtuse in my manner, that I don’t always notice the glazing over of eyes when I’m on a roll. Keith does, and can quickly say something to lighten the mood, like ‘Isn’t it pretty?’

Still, whether or not it enters the sales banter, we nevertheless bring a collector’s eye to what it is we stock, and what is now repeated by me aphoristically, everything we’ve got has some compelling reason for being here, and we try to offer a combination of quality, condition, and rarity. Of course we price our stock to sell, and witness our annual sale soon to be concluded, we are still a commercial enterprise and must make room for fresh stock. Even our loyal-est of loyal clients will give us the go by if, after several browses on our website it is the same inventory.

A commercial enterprise, yes, and after a cumulative 60 years in finance, Keith and I can’t just shrug this off. But at bottom, we’re collectors and that’s what we bring to every acquisition we make. I’ve written before that what disappoints me, well beyond the buyer as noted above who makes a less good purchase from another dealer, is selling a piece in our stock too quickly- before I’ve had a chance to enjoy it myself.

In the midst of all we’re going through, Netflix and Amazon must see their internal servers heated to white hot, with all the binge watching. Include us in that number, to be honest. Mind you, I’d like to be ameliorating the effects of my own binge watching, with my mid-section these days becoming form-fitting with the easy armchair in front of the television, but alas, the gyms are now closed- for the second time.

What though has become a favorite, or a renewed favorite, amongst binge-ophiles, is ‘Downton Abbey’. As I have written so often before, there is nothing in the series not to like. The beautiful settings at Highclere, as well as those specially designed and highly atmospheric sets, to say nothing of the wonderful performances from actors whose characterizations they have made entirely their own, and an enthralling storyline packed with incident- what more can I say?

I know that the binge watchers for this particular series are out in force, as we’ve received another wave of queries from my gentle readers and others about any increase in interest in period furniture and artwork. As before, I would repeat my former answer- well, maybe. Always assuming that my readers and our cadre of frequent punters are interested in the financial health and survival of Chappell & McCullar, my answer is generally poised to address sales of the period furniture and artwork we have on offer, and that, so far, has been pretty good this year. Not a banner year, but we’ve had worse. Is this related to ‘Downton…’ though? My guess has been that it might have more to do with folks sheltering in place, and taking the time to browse our website. Interestingly, the number of visits to our website is not up significantly over this time last year. The time each site visitor remains on our website, though, is up over ten fold. And, I say with some modesty, the time spent in reading my blog page has increased, too. An entertaining voice of reason? Or just a lack of something else to do? You be the judge.

The site browser who follows through with a purchase has seen a gratifying uptick, with a number of new clients added to the fold. We had thought that this might be limited to purchases of smaller, easier to ship items, but frankly, no sooner do we sell a pair of candlesticks than we field an enquiry for a bookcase.

All this though continues to beg the question ‘What of “Downton Abbey”?’ and for the moment I have no real answer beyond what I’ve said earlier, that the questions posed to me about the series have lately ticked upward. Perhaps it is that, with our own period material, ‘Downton Abbey’ is representative of an historic period that, while not free of challenging incident, is nevertheless certain and unchanging, and a welcome relief from the unpleasant uncertainty and never-ending changes in our own time. Perhaps it is too that purchases from us of period material provides the buyer with a touchstone in literal terms, a soothing reminder of the certainty of an earlier time.

June has been the keystone of the London season for nearly a century. At the tail end of the months preceding it with a series of balls, at homes, levees, and ultimately presentations of the young ladies of quality at court, the ultimate has always been antiques and fine art fairs, providing the great and the good the opportunity to purchase some exquisite piece of furniture or silver or bibelots, before decamping for the summer to whatever country estate one occupied.

I’ve written often over the last few years, decrying the change in fortunes of the established fairs, with the venerable Grosvenor House fair the grandest, and now for many years existing only as a blessed memory. The Olympia Fair has carried on, changing itself, and its ownership, frequently over the last decade, in order to survive.

Now, though, in this age of COVID-19 and all it’s wrought the fairs will be virtually virtual, with tours of the exhibitors’ stands virtual, and all auxiliary events where traditionally the flesh is pressed whilst holding a champagne flute, social distancing will only allow one to enjoy any of this from the safety of one’s own home via one’s computer screen.

And what of this for the exhibitor dealers? Of course, virtual is cheaper, but in a business inherently tactile, to name just one of the senses that influence the decision to make a purchase, how is it to consider purchasing a lacquered bureau cabinet in the mid 6 figures without, pardon the expression, kicking the tyres?

Mind you, sales platforms have existed for quite some time, and nearly every exhibitor either at Olympia, or Masterpiece London- Grosvenor House’s surviving progeny- are reasonably represented on the commercial sales platforms and those maintained by accrediting bodies, like BADA and LAPADA, that exist only for the accredited trade in art and antiques.

But what of the opportunity for those who really want to become serious collectors, who want to develop an eye, to discern what’s very, very good, as distinct from an item less good? In short, how does ‘virtual’ contribute to connoisseurship? The short answer is, it doesn’t, or at least not much. Using the same lacquer cabinet as my trope, what is it that can be seen virtually- the craftsmanship, quality of decoration, indeed the patina that can be wrought only over time- and then find that it is nearly indistinguishable, in a virtual environment, to a similar piece made in the last year. ‘Virtual environment’? Hardly. Nothing substitutes for personal inspection- pulling out the drawers of an 18th century bureau, say, and giving the inside a good, old whiff, taking in the very distinctive musty pong. Yes, indeed, kicking the tyres, that’s what’s missing and cannot be duplicated in a virtual environment. ‘Kicking the tyres’- am I excused for using this expression as a euphemism for connoisseurship?

Let me start by saying that I’m a big Julian Fellowes fan, first becoming aware watching his writing credit go by on that proto ‘Downton Abbey’ opus, the movie ‘Gosford Park.’ The characters in ‘Gosford…’ were well-drawn, and with the likes of Michael Gambon and Maggie Smith and Eileen Atkins and Helen Mirren in the cast, it goes without saying the parts were well acted. Upstairs and downstairs, the characters played their roles with an unction that is probably equal measure skill in writing, skill in Robert Altman’s direction, and also vestigial notions still operative in the players themselves of what the centuries old British class system was, and perhaps to a great extent still is.

‘Downton Abbey’ was certainly teed-up by the success of ‘Gosford Park’ and the longevity of the series is proof that the story and the characters were beloved by very many. Unfortunately, the movie ‘Downton Abbey’ was not precisely a bomb, but certainly a disappointment. In simple terms, it seemed as though the format for the one hour episodes was stretched to two hours, but without a compensating increase in the wealth of incident that each week made the broadcast version compelling watching.

One would have assumed that ‘Belgravia’, from Fellowes’ novel of the same name, as it too was of an episodic format would have made compelling viewing. I should have known better. I’d read the book when it came out a few years ago, and it was- wait for it- a bore. I think I know what Fellowes was trying to communicate- the incipient and rough social confluence that occurred in the first half of the 19th century between the established aristocracy- in the form of the Bellasis family- and an up and coming bourgeoisie, with the Trenchard family as representative. Belgravia, as the predominant mis en scene, is as a portion of the built environment a new town built by a ‘new’, or should I say ‘parvenu’, man in the person of James Trenchard, but the grand scale of the houses and their proximity to Buckingham Palace naturally made Belgravia a desirable address for a London base for aristos. And, it must be said, a cheaper place to live. Although houses hugely opulent in scale and decoration, even so they were significantly less grand than those palatial establishments of an earlier day inhabited by the nobility when they came to town. Few of the earlier type survive, save the exquisite Spencer House fronting Green Park- though the Spencer family hasn’t maintained it as a residence for a century.

As I say, I know where Fellowes was coming from and where the story was destined to go, as he’s gone there often before. His book ‘Snobs’ was an examination of the current plight of the aristocrat, whose traditions of gracious living with the passing of years, and the declines in fortune, have had to be abandoned, but still exist in an uppercrust attitude of looking down one’s nose at those considered social climbers- or as one aristocrat might say with disdain to another, not people like us. ‘Gosford Park’ and ‘Downton Abbey’ were both shows of what an aristocrat faced in a world that had changed radically in the early years of the last century, with the ranks of its young lords decimated by the Great War, and the compounding effect of ruinous death duties imposed on the great estates to pay for the war. The extension of the franchise brought Labour for the first time to power and the Labour PM David Lloyd George found he had a popular mandate to alter the established order, which alteration those of title were no longer sufficiently influential to resist.

‘Belgravia’ then seeks to take us back to what might be considered an inflection point marking the inexorable rise of new men, which rise could no longer be ignored. The aristocracy still very much in control, but with fortunes being made by those with daring and ability, and as money makes the mill turn, even the likes of James Trenchard is admitted, reluctantly, into the drawing rooms of his betters, and even gaining a membership to the Athenaeum. He does of course have to be chided on his initial visit to not conduct business within the club’s precincts- that is not what gentlemen do. And still don’t, truth be told. Fortunes are made in the City of London, and though City types are fond of opulent display, that display is yet considered in contemporary England the height of gaucherie.

But what of ‘Belgravia’? The signature Fellowes elements were all there- grand settings, beautiful clothes for the ladies of quality, and a storyline that defines tension between the upper and middle classes. But the story itself is a dull one, with a painfully slow lead-in to a conclusion that one can see from a mile off. Tension and conflict, yes, but in an amount sufficient for a two-hour show, but much diluted when extended to 6. And not gritty enough- this was a terrifically dirty age, with streets even in Belgravia filled with horse droppings and other loathsome detritus, mills belching smoke, and ragged workmen of all ages and both sexes, including very young children. A glaring example, with several scenes inside a cloth mill that should have had clouds of brown dust, and yet not a speck of dust is to be seen. So I suppose that’s what was missing- a grittiness in the story, in the performances, and in the settings. On several occasions I fell asleep while watching, but what I can say is it did not, sad to say, interrupt my slumber

Perhaps I’m more of an optimist than I realize. Last night, after watching with shall we say distaste the hokey ending of ‘Hollywood’, Ryan Murphy’s most recent and least accomplished opus, life turned around for me when I began watching the 1961 version of ‘The Roman Spring of Mrs Stone’. Though for the umpteenth time, it was nevertheless a mental cleanse, watching beauty and glamour and sin so wonderfully mixed. And camp- well, I’m all for it when it’s well done, and the characters are camp classics. In the opening segment, the voice over describes Karen Stone’s sojourn in Rome as allowing her to ‘explore the dark corners of her own nature.’

Thank heavens for those dark corners, and would that there were more of them. I think in subjective terms, of course, with my own coming out yonks ago very heavily influenced by the likes of Tennessee Williams whose undertones and innuendoes were only understood by the shall we say cognoscenti, and once understood, one had the feeling that one had joined a secret, and highly exclusive, club.

Subjective, yes, but with objective manifestations, or perhaps ‘manifestations’ is too strong a word. What was out there was out there, but required one to look for it. As Karen Stone, I too enjoyed the delights of the Piazza di Spagna, and the nearby Piazzale Belle Arti. It was great fun to cruise, and be cruised, whether one picked up or not. I must say, my first visit to Rome nearly forty years ago saw very much il dolce vita, sadly now winnowed away in the intervening decades the result of mass tourism, and an openness of expression that for those who espoused its practice did so in the mistaken notion that it would be a liberation of their own natures.

Well, yes, liberation and liberality, but what all this swept away was subtlety- the thrill of making eye contact and the lingering glance that followed, buying a drink in a bar- Harry’s Bar in the Via Veneto was my favourite- chatting up the barman, whether he was attractive or not, and then buying a drink for a comely patron a few stools away. Mind you, not everyone looked like a young Warren Beatty in the guise of Paolo, but one thing anyone can say about Italian men is that they are maniacal in their grooming. The character of Paolo was dead on.

Now I have to say, I have had fun in Los Angeles, not so much as Rome, but who would? I also have to say that I read Scotty Bowers’ memoir and watched Matt Tyrnauer’s documentary about him. Both though left me cold. Imagine, if you could, a now 80 year old Warren Beatty reprising his role in ‘The Roman Spring…’ and I think you’ll get a sense of what I mean.

As with Karen Stone and dark corners, I possess a nostalgia and fondness for which I cannot overstate. I too sought years ago to explore those of my own nature, and thrilled with delight with what I found there. If it’s all the same to you, I’ll argue to keep things as they were- I do yet find those corners vastly more titillating without too much exposure to the light.