My husband and I are at a piano bar with another couple toasting to the recent news that both coffee and red wine are good for you. This is the best news I’ve heard since learning that getting more sleep helps you lose weight. Despite the wine, we’re discussing sober topics like local politics and cholesterol medications. I’m bored to distraction, so my mind and eyes wander. I’m taking in the chandelier over the piano player, when somebody asks, “What do you think, Marni?”
“About the chandelier?”
“About the new superintendent?”
“Uhh, sorry,” I mutter, busted. An awkward pause follows. I commandeer it to move the conversation in a more meaningful direction: “Do you think that chandelier is crystal or plastic?”
Everyone at the table turns and squints. The piano player thinks we’re looking at him, so he sits up and plays louder. I bop to make him feel better. Then the votes come back: The men say crystal; the other woman and I say plastic. I want to stand on a bar stool to get a closer look, but between the wine and my high heels, I think better of it.
I’m a sucker for dazzle. I like diamonds, big and white. I like Waterford, and things that go bling in the night. During the holidays, I love so see people pull out all that sparkles, and set their crystal chandeliers blazing like bonfires. It’s the ultimate glitz.
I can’t afford the chandeliers I really like, but last year I splurged and bought two crystal sconces for my guest powder room. They hang on either side of the mirror. If I stand just right, I can pretend I’m wearing big dazzling earrings like Marie Antoinette. The wise lighting expert advised me to go for quality because these pieces would be at eye level. He was right.
That was when I began noticing crystal look-alikes – fixtures with faceted plastic masquerading as crystal. That’s why I can’t stop staring at this piano- bar fixture. When the conversation turns to bond issues and the piano player takes a break, I make sure no one is looking and hop on a chair.
“What are you doing?” my husband asks, appalled.
“Hold the chair!”
Before he can stop me, my hand is on the fixture, feeling its parts like a chef selecting produce. The one pendant that hangs low from the middle is in fact crystal, as are a few of the fixture’s larger pendants, but most of the material is plastic.
“It’s crystal and plastic!” I declare to our friends, who are hiding in their collars.
“Wine may be good for your health,” my husband says, “but it’s lousy for your reputation.”
Fake crystal fixtures can be great in a first apartment because they’re affordable. But if you want real crystal, how do you spot decent quality?
Eileen Schonbek Beer was born into the crystal world. She and her brother own Schonbek, a family company based in Plattsburgh, N.Y., that has been making crystal chandeliers for 135 years. She’s passionate.
“Crystal chandeliers absolutely alter a space,” Beer says. “They’re sculptural, and change their mood with the light, as if they’re alive.”
Marni Jameson is a nationally syndicated columnist who lives in the Denver area. Contact her through marnijameson.com.
