It works like this – on your FYP (For You Page), an image of an archive interior or artfully shot sculptural vase catches your eye. You tap through to the Instagram post and, before you know it, you’re shopping. This modern approach to ‘window dressing’ is now an established part of how a new group of antique dealers get the attention of passing trade. Sharpened design instincts and the element of surprise key to social media success have helped this new breed of entrepreneur build successful dealerships, some with online stores, others with appointment-only showrooms, their digital presences rendered IRL. These new-school sellers represent something fresh in a traditional trade, something recognised by the vanguards of the industry: BADA (The British Antique Dealers’ Association) reported a jump in new members aged in their 20s and 30s last year. And although there has been an obvious sea change in how antiques are sold on our streets, the china shop crammed full of chipped Chelsea is a rare sight nowadays. Rising rents, reduced footfall – it’s all the usual reasons cited for the closure of bricks-and-mortar stores. It doesn’t mean that enthusiasm for beautiful objects with provenance has passed, however: furniture, fabrics or objet d’arts - there is a dealer for every niche. Here are three of The Blend’s favourites.
Altar
Tage Andersen Iron and Cobalt Stained Glass Cabinet, available at Altar
‘Devotional, curious, artful; they are words that connect my objects,’ says Steph Wilson, founder of Altar. This figures; each of her pieces has the air of a sacred object, the brand’s moniker coming from ‘a shrine to showcase things that are both material and spiritual’ the dealer-cum-artist says. Working across multiple mediums, including painting, Wilson is known for her photography, the idiosyncratic qualities of her subjects mirroring the one-off pieces she offers under Altar. Nothing is alike. ‘I look for pieces of which there is only one: the handmade, the studio prototypes. Uncategorisable things with unusual proportions or something that is hard to place in time,’ Wilson explains. Thus the flowing lines of 1930s cabinetry sit alongside unexpected Victorian woodwork, and art deco and art nouveau designs, a love of Wilson’s. Currently in stock is a monastic Tage Andersen stained-glass cabinet and Edo-period Japanese Jingsa hats, hybridised into lamps. ‘If an object sings with narrative, I need to picture it in a space where it can continue to do that,’ Wilson says of her sourcing process. And what of her digital-first practice? ‘So much of social media’s success leans on “vibe”, doesn’t it? But beneath the surface, it’s about stirring feelings. The benefit of being online is that it opens the door to Altar in a non-confronting way. Come to the Brixton showroom, be introduced to the pieces – they can be loved in person without any pressure.’
Beau-Traps
Franz Weissmann Untitled sculpture, Brazil, c.1950, available from Beau-Traps.
Lifted from a book of Georgian-era slang, the name describes a loose paving stone, which, when stood on, sprays you with the water beneath. So something unexpected. ‘I look for the hard-to-find, those things rarely seen elsewhere, something that feels and looks misunderstood,’ says Maxime Fisher on what makes a Beau-Traps piece. His Instagram is an assemblage of beguiling throwbacks and oddly poignant stills from Bravo TV’s Real Housewives of Beverly Hills, a tone-setting exercise that fits together perfectly. ‘It allows the objects to be more playful, nostalgic and hopeful in a direction that feels authentic,’ Fisher explains. ‘They are emotional and genre-less.’
Some of his collection is drawn from recent history, other objects from much further back. Yet all have the same refined surreal quality, as if pulled from multiverse timelines. At once, human and alien: a 16th-century beribboned marble bowl, a curving chip-carved 1940s chair, a linear metal plant stand, so lightweight that it looks like a 2D doodle. ‘I couldn’t help how natural it felt to begin Beau-Traps, there’s nothing more to it than that,’ Fisher says of how it all began. This extends to a collection of Alexandre Noll woodworked pieces featured on his website. ‘They were sourced from my friend. The work feels childlike and effortlessly straightforward but they weren’t carved for no reason. I find understanding in how material is shaped and formed, it speaks to the longevity of time.’ A backstory is not always required though: ‘I think there’s something magical in the unknown,’ Fisher says.
Old Old Woods
Esse chairs by Gigi Sabadin for Stilwood, Italy, 1973, available at Old Old Woods.
‘Bringing wood furniture back to life, I saw how forgiving it could be after neglect, making desirable something once unwanted. It mirrors the human mind for me,’ explains Tola Adefioye on the beginnings of OOW. ‘With the right care, one’s mental state can be improved, a once-lost person found.’ Initiated as an escape from his other vocation as a lab scientist, in 2016 he elevated furniture restoration from pastime to creative calling. Adefioye began rejuvenating mid-century pieces – broken tables, chairs and forgotten treasures. Global in scope, he often lands on Scandinavian and Italian handiwork, placing it alongside African art and textiles.
While not strictly searching for big-name designers, an interesting find does sometimes end up being by the hand of a famed maker. ‘It’s very instinctive, though, I don’t know what I’m looking for; I respond to pieces based on feeling, proportion, materiality and character,’ Adefioye says. ‘But it has changed the way I look at objects. Not just through their function, but as things that carry history and human touch. It shapes the way I source,’ Adefioye observes of his offering, which includes a pair of folding Trieste chairs by Aldo Jacober, a brutalist Sedes Armchair by Wim Mulder and matching flower-like Mario Bellini for Artemide table and pendant lights, all currently in his Leytonstone workshop. And what makes good design for Adefioye? ‘Connection,’ he concludes.