Fads In
Collecting
IN a
New York home one room is devoted to a so-called panler fleuri
collection which in this case means that each article shows the
design of a basket holding flowers or fruit The collection is today
so unique and therefore so valuable, that it has been willed to a
museum, but its creation as a collection, was entirely a chance
occurrence. The design of a basket trimmed with flowers happened to
appeal to the owner, and if we are not mistaken, the now large
collection had its beginning in the casual purchase of a little old
pendant found in a forgotten corner of Europe.
The
owner wore it, her friends saw it, and gradually associated the
panler fleuri with her, which resulted in many beautiful specimens
of this design being sought out for her by wanderers at home and
abroad. Today this collection includes old silks, laces,
Jewellery, wax pictures, old prints, some pieces of antique
furniture, snuffboxes and ornaments in glass, china, silver, etc.
Every museum is the result of fads in collecting, and when one
considers this heading, which sounds so trifling and unimportant to
the layman, means all that it will not seem strange that we strongly
recommend it as a dissipation!
At
first, quite naturally, the collector makes mistakes; but it is
through his mistakes that he learns, and absolutely nothing gives
such a zest to a stroll in the city, a tramp in the country, or an
unexpected delay in an out-of-the-way town, as to have this
collecting bee in your bonnet.
How
often when traveling we have rejoiced when the loss of a train or a
mistake in timetable, meant an unexpected opportunity to explore for
junk in some old shop, or, perhaps, to bargain with a pretty peasant
girl who hoarded a beloved heirloom, of entrancing interest to us
(and worth a pile of money really), while she lived happily on cider
and cheese!
It
is doubtless the experience of every lover of the old and the
curious, that one never regrets the expenses incurred in this quest
of the antique, but one does eternally regret one's economies.
The
writer suffers now, after years have elapsed, in some cases, at the
memory of treasures resisted when chanced upon in Russia, Poland,
Hungary, and Bohemia where not! Always one says, "Oh, well, I shall
come back again!" But there are so many "pastures green," and it is
often difficult to retrace one's steps.
Then, too, these fads open our eyes and ears, so that in passing
along a street on foot, in a cab or on a bus, or in glancing through
a book, or, perhaps, in an odd corner of an otherwise colorless
town, where fate has taken us, we find "grist for our mill” just the
right piece of furniture for the waiting place!
Know
what you want, really want it, and you will find it some time,
somewhere, somehow!
As a
stimulus to beginners in collecting, as well as an illustration of
that perseverance required of every keen collector, we cite the case
of running down an Empire dressing table.
It
was our desire to complete a small collection of Empire furniture
for a suite of rooms, by adding to it as a supplement to the bureau,
a certain type of Empire dressing table. It is no exaggeration to
say that Paris was dragged for what we wanted the large well-known
antique shops and the smaller ones of the Latin Quarter being both
ransacked.
Time
was flying, the date of our sailing was approaching, and as yet the
coveted piece had not been found. Three days before we left, a fat,
red-faced, jolly cabby, after making a vain tour of the junk shops
in his quarter, demanded to know exactly what it was we sought. When
told, he looked triumphant, bade us get into his cab, lashed his
horse and after several rapidly made turns, dashed into an
out-of-the-way street and drew up before a sort of junk store-house,
full of rickety, dusty odds and ends of furniture, presided over by
a stupid old woman who sat outside the door, knitting, wrapped head
and all in a shawl.
We
entered and, there, to our immense relief, stood the dressing table!
It was grey with dust, the original Empire green silk, a rusty grey
and hanging in shreds on the back of the original glass. There was a
marble top set into the wood and grooved in a curious way. The whole
was intact except for a loose back leg, which gave it a swaying,
tottering appearance.
We
passed it in silence being experienced traders! Then, after buying
several little old picture frames, while Madame continued her
knitting, we wandered close to the coveted table and asked what was
wanted for that broken bit "of no use as it stands."
"Thirty francs" (six dollars) was the answer. Later a well-known New
York dealer offered seventy-five dollars for the table in the
condition in which we found it, and repaired as it is to-day it
would easily bring a hundred and fifty, anywhere!
As
it happened, the money we went out with had been spent on unexpected
finds, and neither our good-natured cabby nor we were in possession
of thirty francs! In fact, cabby was rather staggered to hear the
price, having offered to advance what we needed. He suggested
sending it home "collect" but Madame would not even consider such an
idea.
However, at last our resourceful juju came to the rescue. If the
ladies would seat themselves in the cab, he could place the table in
front of them, with the cover of the cab raised, and Madame of the
shop could lock her door and mounting the box by the side of our
cocker, she might drive with us to our destination and collect the
money herself! He promised to bring her home safely again!
As
we had only the next day for boxing and shipping, there was no
alternative. Before we had even taken in our grotesque appearance,
the horse was galloping, as only a Paris cab horse can gallop,
toward our abode in Avenue Henri Martin, past carriages and autos
returning from the Bois, while inside the cab we sat, elated by our
success and in that whirl of triumphant absorbing joy which only the
real collector knows.
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