Antiques trade, odd business, odder people

Second World War Medals

Dealing in antiques is odd. Antiques do not have a definite retail price, two pieces of furniture of the same model, made in the same workshop at the same time may vary by up to 99% in retail price. The price will vary due to where a piece is being sold in the country, its condition but most importantly who is selling it. The dealer with the posh shop in the Cotswold’s is able to charge a lot more than the man at a car boot sale who has a house clearance business.

Business overheads do have a lot to do with this but basically the pricing is down to knowledge, the house clearer probably does not know the items real worth, if he did how come he still has it, why has he not sold it to the dealer in the Cotswold’s?

It’s not just the business that is odd, a lot of the people in it are as well, who would sleep in the back of a lorry in November waiting in line to enter an antiques fair. Who would be near Tower Bridge at 2.30 on a Friday morning looking for a parking space near to a market? Who would spend their Sundays stalled out at an antiques fair playing Antique Dealers Bingo – see my bingo blog. Who would park their car opposite The Palace of Westminster at 5.30 in the morning and then push their stock on a sack trolly all the way up Whitehall to Trafalgar Square, take a right up The Strand, then a left up Henretta Street to share a stall at the Covent Garden antiques market and take no money all day?

Me, I have done all the above.

By the way if you run an antiques market or fair please don’t call it an antique market – it’s not over 100 years old.

This got me thinking about people that I have met in the trade over the last 40 years, the

Victorian, walnut writing slope

odd ones, the very odd ones and the famous ones, apart from the famous ones I have changed names to protect the not so innocent.

The Antiques market owner.

I had a stall in one of the largest antiques markets in the country and like just about every retail outlet it suffered from shop lifting, well it did to begin with. If someone looked the type they would be followed at a distance and if spotted stealing the manager would be informed. If stolen goods were found on them the culprit would be taken out into the workshop far “a talking to”. After this they were thrown into the canal. Word soon got around.

Johny Handbag.

I only met Johny once. Hime and his mother stormed into the shop one morning.

“Alright mate, I’m Johny Handbag, they call me that as I always have handbag on me, I’m always holding folding”

Slightly amazed I stared.

“Nice shop mate, come on mum this man’s got work to do.”

They left, I never saw either of them again.

James the book dealer

James was a really nice man, very knowledgeable in antiquarian books and prints, he was a socialist, so we decided to call him Red Book.

There was one problem though, he did not like people, especially his customers. I was next to him at a market one day, we were chatting and he pointed out a browser to me, he told me that in ten years the browser had never purchased anything and that he had had enough, he walked up to the man.

“Excuse me, you come to my stall every week and you have never bought a thing in the last 10 years, I only have one life and don’t want you in it so please don’t come back”

The look on the poor mans face. He didn’t realise how much he had upset James, he was very apologetic and was never seen again.

The same market a few weeks later.

Customer “You have this book priced at £60.00, would you accept £30.00?”

Red Book “Certainly sir.” He then ripped the book in half. “Here is your half, this is my half, £30.00 please.”

Looking back, I think James was just very shy, last time I saw him he was selling videos and CD’s

Jem the Social Climber

Jem was a furniture and general dealer, when talking to a customer he would nod and say “Yes, your right, your right, your right, you are so right.” Due to this we called him tiger feet from the Mud song which goes “That’s neat, that’s neat, that’s neat I really love those tiger feet.”

Jem thought he was part of the country set, judged dressarge at the village fete and always spoke of the Major who he was sitting next to for dinner at the big house, most of his stock was being sold on behalf of someone else and he would take a commission.

If bored he would change all the labels on his stock, upping the prices by 15% and then go home feeling 15% richer.

I once saw him trying to close the sale of a Georgian boot and whip stand.

Lady customer “Yes, it’s priced at £600.00 you say?”

Jem “No Guinea’s madam”

The lady was going to start to haggle but he had put the price up by £30.00 before she could start, she left the building.

Sarah the destroyer

Sarah was in her late 70’s, a slight lady who often wore a red beret so of course amongst other things we called her “The Paratrooper”.

She would buy anything cheap including commemorative mugs and Wemyss animals covering nice salable pieces of furniture with objects priced at a pound or two. The problem was that she would balance things on top of each other or load out a table beyond its strength.

Very often after only ten minutes or so of her leaving the building there would be an almighty crash of ceramics hitting each other and the floor as yet another tabled failed.

David the runner

Now David was not that odd to be honest apart from always having £4000.00 in his socks but I thought that I would take the opportunity to explain what a runner is.

David came from west London and had a 7.5-ton van which at the time was the largest vehicle you could drive on a normal driving license. He came from west London and would visit us in Oxfordshire on a Friday.

I think that he was on the road most days with specific routes visiting his chosen dealers who he would buy from and sell to. He probably visited 60 or 70 antiques shops a week.

Visiting so many shops, runners know to the nearest £10.00 what items are worth and what is selling that week. The odd thing was though he said that all our stock was overpriced, exactly what I thought about most of the items in the back of his van!

We did some business with him, but his items were a bit too” London” for us and I think that we probably were too dear for him as we were mainly retail and as he was selling back  into the antiques trade.

Hammered coins

Martin the coin dealer

Martin and I got on well, we had the same sense of humour and soon found out that we shared the same birthday.

Martin made most of his money selling Roman coins which had been found by local metal detectorists, this was pre-Internet and he was buying coins which were of a stunning condition and not listed in the coin catalogues, to an extent he could charge what he wanted.

He had a customer who would come twice a month and spend £4000.00 - £5000.00 with him on Roman coins. They got to be good friends, the customer was a BA pilot and Martin and his wife would spend time with them in their flat on the coast.

One afternoon they approached me to ask if we could make coin boxes to hold his purchases, coin boxes cannot be made from plywood as the glue affects their patina. I spent some time pricing the boxes which he accepted. There was an extra though, he wanted a 22c gold plaque in the lid with his name engraved. This was not for me, for some reason in the back of my head I did not like this man so I pulled out of the deal.

After this Martin did not see the pilot for around six months.

One evening there was a knock at Martins door, a detective Inspector and a Sargent from the Met police wanted to have a chat with him about a man he knew as “xx” and was a BA pilot.

Even though Martin had seen his BA uniform hung up in the flat on the coast it soon became apparent that Mr. X was not a pilot at all, he was running a major drugs cartel. He was buying coins from Martin and selling them at auction to launder the money.

Martin had to go to court, he was lent on by Mr. X’s friends.

Sometime your gut feeling is right, I am glad that I stayed away from the “pilot”

If you change your mind

One afternoon a family came in the shop, they had been recommended to us by a shop down the road. The couple told me that they had a friend who was ill and that they would like to buy him a box for his pills. In the end I sold them a 1940’s leather Gladstone bag, they left the shop.

I had a feeling that I knew the man from somewhere, so I checked his name on the receipt, it was Björn Ulvaeus from Abba!

We did get famous people in the shop, and I had a policy of treating them like anyone else usually making out that I had not recognised them.

This policy worked until one Saturday afternoon in December. I saw a man dressed in black with a black baseball cap looking in the window, he opened the door a little and asked if he could come in. Of course I said, after all I had recognised him as George Michael.

This was just about the only time in my life that I have been tongue tied he tried to have a conversation with me but I was totally star struck.

Regrets, I have a few but not being able to have a chat with George Michael is one of them.