Long time no see! I know it's been a while since we posted anything, but we've been busy working on a new site re-design, so stay tuned for a new and beautiful English Classics—coming soon to cyberspaces near you.
A recent AP news article reported that TV and furniture-related injuries are on the rise. According to the article, about 14,700 furniture-related injuries occurred each year between 1990 and 2007—almost half due to TV sets, the most common article involved in the accidents—and resulted in about 300 deaths.
According to Furniture Today, part of the problem may be that people are moving their old, bulky TV's. But I think the problem is simpler than that. Flat screens are easy to knock over because they don't have the wide bases of the old tube and projection varieties. Plus, they often hang on the wall, which is an added risk, and because of their thin size, people are putting them in more precarious places than they used to. And of course, anyone who has been around children long enough (or remembers being one!) knows that they love to climb on things, and it seems likely to me that a child would try to climb up the front of a flat screen TV since, given enough time, a child will climb on everything they lay eyes on.
This situation reminds me of a time, several years back, when we came into some extremely heavy solid wood furniture (I'm talking several hundred pounds for a chest of drawers). At a show, we were on the brink of selling one of these gargantuan chests to a woman when she told us it was going in her young child's bedroom. We had to refuse the sale, because we knew that if the child tried climbing the chest, it could tip over, quickly rendering the ingredients for a New Guinea meat pie.
What's my point? As much as we try, we don't always make the most responsible decision when it comes to how we use our furniture (and our TV's). To me, the solution seems obvious, but that may be because I own two ferrets whose primary purpose for living is to find new ways to get into my stuff, including my oven, my recliner, and of course my wire-stuffed TV cabinet. I am always developing new ways to keep them out—and just like ferrets, the best way to keep children off of a TV would be to lock it up in a TV cabinet or linen press, which is what plenty of people do, in any case—e.g. our TV cabinet selection.
But you don't have to shop with us to avoid being one of those 14,700 homes per year that discover the perilous ingenuity of children. Televisions, other appliances, and topple-ready furniture—killer or otherwise—should just be kept locked away or out of reach from children, because, as with all things, otherwise they will eventually find a way to make a mess with it.
We got a new container packed full of gorgeous antiques a few weeks ago and we've been so busy that I'm only now just getting around to posting a few pictures here. We've got more furniture coming in next month, so this won't be all. Be sure to check the catalog section of this site for the most up-to-date items. In the meantime, enjoy!
A recent article over at Furniture Today about economic recovery characterizes recent developments in the market (particularly at High Point) as an upswing. One quote from Kevin O'Connor, president of Samson Marketing and chairman of the High Point Market Authority, reads, "I think attendance probably was flat, but in this economy, I consider that pretty good." I would emphasize the words in this economy.
It is true that most of the opinions offered in the article are positive, but many are qualified with sentiments like the above: people are just glad that things don't look flat out apocalyptic these days, but I would argue that although things don't look as grim as they did back in the beginning of summer, the economy is still losing jobs on the whole (only at a slower pace), so the economy may not be necessarily on the upswing, just less fatal.
Besides, Fall tends to be the best season for furniture and antiques, since people want to stock their homes with new dining furniture and other domestic trophies before the relatives show up on Thanksgiving and Christmas. After that, things usually start to slow down again for most shows and dealers alike. Still, I hesitate to put a damper on the positive mood, so while I remain optimistic, and while we do seem to have weathered the worst of the storm, I foresee more hardship ahead before we resume pushing antiques by the container load as we saw back in 2007.
As for Atlanta, I think we'll keep our title for the East's biggest antique importer. But as every dealer, designer and investor knows, only time will tell.
So you may be in the market for antique furniture, but there are often good reasons for buying a reproduction. My last post on reproductions prompted a conversation with a friend of mine about whether buying reproductions at all is a good idea when you can just go for antiques, especially since good, handmade reproductions can sometimes be more expensive than the real thing. So I decided to put together a list of the top three reasons for buying a reproduction instead of an antique:
1. You may want something flawless that looks new but is in an antique style. If it is an actual antique, you're probably looking at forking over a lot of dough. If you wanted an actual Georgian version of this walnut linen press, for instance, I would guess you would need at least $15-20k. A reproduction might set you back only $5k.
2. You may need something that is rare or practically impossible to find. Some dealers, like us for instance, can make anything you can dream up.
3. You may need a suite of matching or similar furniture; depending on what it is you need, this can be quite difficult. Most of the time when someone needs a group of items, they're looking to outfit an office. So you can get your desk, credenza, bookcase and filing cabinet in one place, with the same leather and wood types if you want—and have them all look antique.
This is a prime example of a quality reproduction.
A host of fears and misconceptions haunt the idea of reproduction furniture—and in some cases, with good reason. Chinese junk, for instance, has long inundated the U.S. market, and some dealers aren't as honest as English Classics about where their items come from (and of course not all dealers get their stuff from England). But if you know what to look for in a good reproduction, then you don't need to worry too much about where it comes from because, I imagine, quality can come from the most surprising places. (In fact, I predict that as Chinese incomes rise, the burgeoning upper-class will want the same level of quality that wealthy Westerners have come to expect, and there will be a demand for quality right in their own backyards. This will make cheap, quality Chinese furniture a reality.)
For starters, the best way to find out about a piece is to simply ask the dealer. Ask where and when it is made, what it is made of (veneers, underlying materials, hardware metal). If it is finished, ask what kind of finish it is, and how to clean it. Ask what style it is in, whether it is handmade, and where and how the dealer acquired the piece. The answers to these questions will usually serve as good indicators of quality, and they might even get the dealer to lower the asking price.
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I recently came across the following article about antique appraisals while digging around for furniture news, and I was surprised at the price tag put on the furniture discussed in the article.
Now let me lay out some disclaimers: I sell furniture, I don't appraise it (we don't do appraisals, in case you were wondering); the furniture I sell is mostly English (duh), not French; most of what comes into our shop is usually 19th century, not 18th; and I am sure that Ms. Durr is an absolutely capable professional.
So, that being said, I would be very surprised if Mrs. Francis gets half of the $64,000 of the estimated value. As the article itself indicates, it is difficult for individuals to sell furniture and even more so to sell it at its "worth," because of the Internet (hello, English Classics?) and the slow economy. Unless Francis gets serious about marketing this set, it probably won't sell, and usually such an effort is long and painstaking. This is why marketing is an entire industry in itself, and why, in fact, I am sitting in front of this monitor slapping away at the keys—not everybody can do it.
Mostly it comes down to time. Francis indicates that she is willing to wait, but even given several years, the odds that she will find a buyer without 1) professional help or 2) serious investment of her own time are pretty slim. These kinds of relatively rare, quality items tend to sell in very selective markets composed of high-end auctions, designers and big-shot retailers (e.g. Miami Circle). Other options include Ebay, consignment and a patient email campaign to retailers—none of which are likely to reap anything close to the $64k that Francis is hoping for. This is partly because the Internet is a market where people expect to pay less, and dealers aren't in the business for free.
In short, the furniture market is generally insulated from individuals seeking to dump their valuable antique furniture. Not that I wouldn't love to be surprised or proven wrong, but if you're looking into selling your own furniture or antiques, just keep in mind that a piece's "value" isn't necessarily its price, and for that matter is often just some abstract number that doesn't really mean much to anyone but insurance companies. Your best bet is to do some research and compare what you've got to what other people are selling. Either way, good luck!
So I know it seems sometimes that I just love to pick on IKEA (and maybe I do), but when I ran across this article, I just had to share it. The skinniest house in New York—more history here—which runs at 9.5' x 42', was built in 1873 and once housed Pulitzer Prize-winning poet Edna St. Vincent Millay, is up for sale at $2.7 mil. And who steps in to offer to furnish the place for up to $10,000? The laminate name that shines with the gloss of new and vibrant disposable furniture.
There is a great irony in furnishing a multimillion dollar home with furniture designed for dorm rooms. Everyone I know who lived off of IKEA furniture in college spent those four or so years gradually replacing each piece with better finds at thrift stores and antique shops. Of course, as with everything, there are exceptions, and so IKEA does beef up their line with somewhat higher quality items, but even so—$2.7 million? Maybe I just don't get it down here in the Deep South of Atlanta, where we take low real estate prices and large spaces for granted.
Still, what can be more space-saving than a secretary bookcase combination or, for that matter, the ever-useful pembroke table? The English, who have historically had smaller living spaces than their expansive cousins over the pond, have specialized in space-saving cabinetry for hundreds of years. In fact, many of IKEA's designs, which sometimes present themselves with an air of ingeniously patented innovation, are simply borrowed from Old World cabinetmakers.
So if the buyers of this unique home have the taste (and the wallet) to purchase a charming, historical property, I really can't see them letting IKEA's designers have their way with the place. Who knows—maybe they'll shop at English Classics?
This isn't the type of question I ask very often, but a post about a Thomas Brooks Dresser over at Rare Victorian peaked my interest. John Werry raised the issue of whether the winged male child, shown at the top of this dresser as well as in countless other works of furniture and art, ought to be referred to as a "putti" (singular for "putto") or as a "cherub."
According to Wikipedia's version of the story, "cherub" cannot refer to the artistic representation of toddler angels, a claim for which Wikipedia provides no support in that article but does in another on putto. I use the term "support" loosely, since the reference does not appear to be academic or peer-reviewed; in any case, a forum poster known as Juan Carlos Martinez argues that "cherub" refers exclusively to the Christian theological figures, and that putto are only secularized versions of Cupid—and thus obviously not Christian (see the rest of his argument). Not wanting to leave the question unanswered, I did what I always do in any contest of English diction: I consulted the Oxford English Dictionary (which unfortunately requires a subscription to access).
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When asked to consider their relationship to other dealers in the industry, most antique furniture merchants will respond with one word: competition. Now of course this is a perfectly reasonable answer, and perfectly correct, but competitive rivalry doesn't exactly capture the nature of the business.
Yes, there is a bottom line—everyone wants to sell the best product at the best prices. In other industries, the resulting competition has seen the concentration of capital in a few hands, most notably in multinational corporations (i.e. our toothpaste comes from four companies, our cars from a dozen or so). In our industry, we have managed to reproduce the same model of horizontal integration, if only on a smaller scale. Nevertheless, just mentioning the phrase, "antique furniture," calls to mind the myriad of mom-and-pop jobs, small dealers and down-to-earth trade markets like Atlanta's own antique show.
Why is the antique business so decentralized? Because our industry is one that resists colonization by larger market forces. As Rockefeller once said (and I'm paraphrasing here), the age of the individual is over, having been replaced by globalized corporate identities—and yet, here we are. Perhaps this is because it is in the nature of antiques to resist change—after all, evading or enduring the countless number of catastrophic events that can beset a piece of furniture, only to emerge hundreds of years later as a beautifully patinated work of art is quite a feat. And of course there is the difficulty in reaping profits from said furniture.
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