Whenever I walk through an antiques store or an antiques mall, I have the same two questions.
First: Who would buy that? Although I see the appeal of many vintage furnishings, some strike me as retired for good reason. Worn rugs. Headless Russian dolls. Rickety racks. Rusted milk jugs — seriously.
However, when I do find something I like, a second question arises: How would that fit in at my place?
The answer usually is, “Not well.” And I’m left pondering why other people can bring home old furnishings (not just antiques, which, technically, must be 100 years or older) and they look venerable and add character. But when I try, it looks as if I’ve been Dumpster diving.
This question is suddenly important to me. Not only because reusing what we already have is morally, fiscally and environmentally responsible, but also because my husband said if I bought one more new piece of furniture I could go live with it in the park.
But he didn’t say anything about buying old furniture.
So I pinned down Eron Johnson, who’s been in the antiques trade for more than 40 years and owns Eron Johnson Antiques in Denver. I asked him: How do you tell good old stuff from bad old stuff? And, once you do, how can you make it work in your home?
He answered with two words: Quality and context.
When sifting through second-, third- and even fourth-hand furnishings at, say, a garage sale, how well something is made and its heritage matter more than looks, Johnson said. “Just because something is ugly — according to you — doesn’t mean it isn’t valuable. It’s an eye-of-the-beholder thing.”
“But why can a good-quality old piece look fabulous in one space and bomb in another?”
“Ahh, that’s context,” he said.
I shared an exercise that a designer once took me through: Picture a cube-shaped orange Naugahyde ottoman circa 1970. Imagine it in a room with an old wood-laminated bookshelf, a sunken green plaid sofa, a torn beanbag chair and a dead plant — in other words, a group counseling center in East Los Angeles. Anyone with eyeballs would evict every item in the room.
Now, put that same orange ottoman on a zebra print rug, next to a trim yellow pleather sofa, a chrome lamp and a lush green potted tree. Bingo!
“Exactly,” Johnson said. “A room is always about more than one piece.”
I think I’m beginning to catch on.
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Syndicated columnist Marni Jameson is the author of “The House Always Wins” (Da Capo), and “House of Havoc,” due out this February. Contact her through
Furniture of a certain age
To tell good old from bad old, whether you’re shopping garage sales or sorting through your own stuff, Denver antiques dealer Eron Johnson suggests asking these questions:
Does it mean something to you? Pieces that have sentimental value are worth a second look. You can’t put a price on emotional attachment.
Is it valuable? If you own it and it is valuable, save it or sell it. Don’t toss it. If you’re not sure, and it’s from your parents or grandparents, check with a collector about the item’s value before sticking it on the curb.
Was it well made? If it started life as a well-constructed piece, crafted of hard solid wood as opposed to stapled-together pieces of MDF, give it points. If a piece passes that test, put it in good company. Here are three ways Johnson says you can make something old fit in: Counterpoint. If everything in the space is new with clean lines, something old, handmade and crusty against that background can look special.
Like with like. If everything in a room is the same period, say all early American colonial, an old item of that period can work even if it’s not well made.
Mixing. An eclectic approach is tricky to pull off, but here’s one secret: You can have pieces from China, Armenia, Egypt and America, and they can all live happily in one room if they’re of the same quality and character. For instance, if they’re all primitive folk art, or all refined, precise and well-made, they will work together. But a blend of quality and character is usually bad.
None of the above. If nothing you do will make a valuable piece work in your home, move it to a less public place where you can enjoy it privately, or loan it to a family member who can serve as custodian of the piece until you find a place for it.
Cop an attitude. “Context also has to do with the force of personality that lives in a home,” Johnson says. “Pulling off something old and quirky is often a matter of personal style and confidence, and (of) having the courage to do something despite what your spouse, kids or neighbors think.”
