Antique Freedom
Christmas, for most people, is about stopping. Shutting down. Escaping work as if it were a mild illness.
For an antiques dealer, it’s something else entirely.
This year I’ve noticed a quiet, unfamiliar feeling creeping in over the Christmas break: I’m not dreading the return. I’m actually looking forward to it.
That’s a strange thing to admit after decades in the trade. January has traditionally been the month of cold shops, thinner footfall, slow cheques, and the annual internal debate about whether any of this is still worth the bother. Dealers know the feeling — the post-Christmas lull where enthusiasm goes into storage along with the decorations.
But this time feels different.
There’s a freedom that comes with age in the antiques world. Not financial freedom — that’s never guaranteed — but something subtler and more valuable: perspective. You stop chasing every object. You stop trying to impress everyone. You stop believing you must be everywhere, buy everything, know everything.
You learn to wait.
Christmas gives space to remember why you started in the first place. Not the fairs, not the invoices, not the endless packing — but the quiet pleasure of recognising quality, of spotting something overlooked, of knowing when to walk away. That instinct only sharpens with time.
During the holiday, I’ve caught myself thinking about stock — not anxiously, but with curiosity. Pieces I want to revisit. Clients I enjoy dealing with. The simple satisfaction of opening a door, switching on the lights, and letting the day unfold.
That’s when it hits you: this isn’t a job you’re returning to — it’s a rhythm you’re re-entering.
Antiques dealing, at its best, isn’t frantic. It’s patient. It rewards steadiness over excitement. The older you get, the more the trade meets you halfway. You’ve seen fashions come and go. You’ve survived booms and busts. You no longer need the drama.
So this Christmas, instead of dreading January, I find myself quietly ready for it. Not rushing. Not forcing. Just open to whatever turns up — which, in this business, is usually how the best things arrive.
That, to me, is antique freedom.
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