Antiques are not About Old Men on Beach Holidays
Let’s clear something up straight away.
Antiques dealing is not about grizzled men with too much sun cream, wandering along foreign beaches in sandals, hoping to stumble across a Ming vase between a deckchair and a cocktail
That image belongs in bad television — not real life.
Real antiques dealing is about taste, judgement, restraint and nerve. It’s about spotting quality when others see clutter, and knowing when not to buy as much as knowing when to strike. Most of the job happens quietly: in draughty salerooms, over catalogues, through phone calls, and in moments of decision where instinct is backed by decades of experience.
There’s nothing glamorous about hauling a heavy oak chest down a narrow staircase or spending hours researching a maker whose name nobody can pronounce. But there is satisfaction — deep satisfaction — in rescuing something overlooked and putting it back where it belongs.
Antiques aren’t about nostalgia for the past; they’re about continuity. Objects that have survived wars, fashions, neglect and bad interiors still have something to say — if you know how to listen. A good dealer isn’t chasing holidays; they’re chasing truth: is it right, is it honest, is it worth owning?
And when it’s done properly, antiques dealing isn’t a lifestyle fantasy — it’s a discipline.
Quiet wins. Long games. Fewer mistakes.
If that sounds dull, good.
It keeps the amateurs on the beach.
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