“Plato quoted the Greek philosopher Heraclitus as noting that “everything changes and nothing stands still,” Heraclitus noted that one cannot step in the same river twice. The river that one steps in the second time is different than it was even a second before, as the current flows.“
On a recent buying trip to the antique markets, I couldn’t help but notice a shift—a quiet but distinct change in the way people approach antiques. It was clear that what was once easy to find had become more challenging. The 18th-century pieces, once highly sought after, now seem more elusive, almost out of reach for the average collector. But, more than that, there’s a subtle shift away from these older items as if the market has moved on to something else. If the 18th-century pieces that I love were easier to find or in my price range, I would be among the few seeking them. For some time, the trend has bulldozed into the brocante world- mid-century modern is pushing its weight and mix matching with “real” antiques. Yeah, it looks cool when well done. But it isn’t something that makes me drool. Or has it?
Instead, the mid-century modern pieces are commanding attention. What once seemed like a more recent era is now firmly placed in the realm of antique collecting. The clean lines, functional design, and streamlined aesthetic of mid-century furniture and decor are clearly in demand, to the point where they’re no longer just considered outsiders—they’re viewed as cool kids on the block. It’s almost as though the term “antique” has come to include these pieces, which, to be honest, never quite felt like “antiques.” Decorative, interesting, yes, but not antiques. Unless I am getting older to see the dates climbing.
Now, I’ll be the first to admit that my knowledge of antiques doesn’t extend to mid-century modern. I’ve always been drawn to older pieces, particularly those with a rich history and deep cultural significance—things I can recognize as French that I have come to understand and appreciate.
Mid-century modern design is appealing in its own right, especially mixed with older pieces. I can appreciate the aesthetic and the form; it feels contemporary and fresh. But I feel out of depth when it comes to knowing its history, the culture behind it, or how to properly define one piece from another. So when Chelsea’s client asked for information about a piece, I shrugged and said, “Tell me what you like about it, what you know about, and let’s go ask someone for more details.”
This is a learning curve, and if I’m being honest, it’s one I’m not sure I want to undertake. I might like the way mid-century modern pieces look and could see how they might integrate with French antiques—a certain synergy can happen when the right elements come together. But, as of now, I don’t feel compelled to dive into it and take a piece home with me. I am not ready for that baby. But then again, I looked up the ten most sought-after mid-century modern pieces, and this is what popped up: (I had to wake up and say, “Cassis?!” I have been influenced by art and design! Little ole me is in the loop.
Midcentury modern design in 10 essential pieces
- Ludwig Mies van der Rohe’s Barcelona chairs. I have seen these but didn’t know them by name or value.
- Louis Poulsen’s Paris lamps. Yeah, these, too; I’ve seen them but didn’t know they were sought after.
- The Eames lounge chairs. Oh boy, Madmen, white-collar men’s world. That is what I see in this piece.
- Danish teak sideboards. Oh please, you can have it. Will I regret saying this when I am 90 years old?
- Arne Jacobsen’s Egg chairs. I have a copy of this sort of style in Cassis. Oh no, it is shyly filtering into my universe.
- Nelson bubble lamps. Am I a brat for thinking this looks like IKEA?
- Upholstered Danish teak armchairs. Uh oh, err, um, I have this in our apartment in Cassis too. How dare mid-century modern slide its way into my world.
- Panton chairs. Spaceship, but I do see these surrounding old dining tables, and maybe this stuff is growing on me like old age does on a person. You know how you wake up one day and say, “Oh shit, I am getting old looking!” and not in the beautiful 18th century way, not even in the cool mid-century way! And yet, there you have it.
For me, the brocanteur at heart, older, timeworn pieces of history, still hold a deeper meaning, a stronger connection. I’ll continue my Brocante journeys, seeking out the kinds of items I know and appreciate—those with stories to tell and craftsmanship that speaks to me. And while I’m happy to chat and negotiate with those who appreciate mid-century modern design, I don’t know enough about it; frankly, I need to step up and get into the groove.
Look at those Willy Guhl diabolo planters from the 1960s designer thing. Do you know that 300 Euros is considered a reasonable price? Oh man, I am so out of the loop. In the States, they sell for several hundred to thousand dollars. Roll me over to Uze’s planter, please.
-Who knows, maybe I will jump ship and start sailing under a different flag, have a yard sale with all my old stuff, and cut my hair and dye it jet black. Who knows, maybe I will smoke cigarettes and dream of martinis… You know I could get into all that mid century bar stuff, even though I don’t drink. Life is full of surprises, even for a brocanteur like me. “What floats your boat?” my Dad used to say.
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