Last week we went to the New York International Gift Fair at the Javits Center in New York. Ferry from Weehawkin (awesome), hot and sweaty walk in Manhattan humidity up the hill to what is one of the biggest industry trade shows, and is usually packed and frenzied. Well, not this year. Echoingly empty spaces, and no surprise. As we all know and have said, people aren’t buying “Stuff”.
The Gift Fair is massive, including not only the entire Javits Center, but two of the piers. It goes on for days and covers everything from scented candles to furniture. Only in America could there be such a concentration of pricey objects whose intrinsic value is questionable. There are acres of vendors showing gardens of pretty things- the sorts of things that fill vacation gift shops, lovely to look at, fun at the moment, but with fleeting purpose. We were there to think about the direction of our own businesses, what we want to share with our clients, what we want to offer in this new economy. And what kept coming up for us was, what’s important? What is useful and what do we want to spend money on- our own and our clients?
We walked by booths with a tangle of trinkets and gadgets that attracted our eyes but we know are destined for a garage sale table. We bypassed all the tables that were filled with the kind of things we find at the back of Marshalls and Home Goods. What caught our imagination, what made us pause and talk were the objects that had imagination, beauty and purpose- and lots of things “reclaimed” or “repurposed”.
There were beautifully carved wooden kitchen tools and accessories from a company in Pennsylvania- graceful and whimsical, well-crafted and practical. There were chunky clay casseroles and bowls from Chile with animal shapes that were reminiscent of pre-Columbian artifacts- oven worthy, they will not only last a lifetime but make us smile. We found wonderful brightly colored children’s chairs made in Malaysia from recycled packing materials and reclaimed metal signage. An architect builds mosaic framed mirrors from glass tile samples that were absolutely dazzling. (I’m putting together a list of links for these sites and I’ll share them when it’s done). None of these things was “expensive” and all had heart and usefulness.
I came away thinking yet again of the old adage of “form” and “function”. The things we love best in our lives have both- they make us smile, they wear well and we don’t get tired of them. It’s those things that my kids want me to give them (and I won’t), and my friends always notice. A bowl from the Berkshires, my really old cast iron frying pans seasoned by years of French toast, my favorite twisty carved wood salad forks, and of course, my KitchenAid mixer. And my mother’s silver, which with a quick polish looks pretty spectacular after 70 years. These are things I pull out and use until they wear away- and they never seem to do that.
After a lifetime of buying and discarding stuff, we get a little smarter and look at the real and lasting value in the objects we choose.
That’s good design. And it happens in our houses, not only in the little decisions like the towels we buy, but in the big ones as well- from what kind of furniture we need to whether we add on that second story. Those choices take time and an awareness of how we live in our homes. And we don’t want them to be just pragmatic- we want them to have the visual magic to make us smile when we walk into a room.
When we decide to renovate there’s a hundred little decisions to make which have less to do with constraints of space and everything to do with quality of experience. Where do we place the window so we’re looking at the garden and not the neighbor’s basketball hoop? What do I want to see when I have my morning coffee? If I add to the back of the house how does that affect the light that I loved enough to make me buy the house in the first place? Do I cook alone or want everyone to gather? Do I like the morning light or does it wake me up too early? Can my neighbor see my bathtub from their window? Do we use the backyard or is it just there because it came with the house? How often do the kids have friends sleep over, and do we want them in the living room? What’s the first thing we want to see when we come up the driveway or open the front door. For that matter, do we need a front door?
The goal is to make our space fit us as comfortably as that pair of shoes we always pull out first because they still look great and our feet won’t hurt. But we also want our home to have that elusive quality that expresses who we are and looks beautiful- without costing a fortune.
If we weren’t looking for our homes to both fit and express who we are, it would be much easier to go buy that spec house or condo where someone else has made all the decisions – usually pretty well, if generically- than to suffer through the process of a renovation- because suffer we will! The costs for renovation, the length of time and the mess we’ll live in is certainly a lot to consider. But in the end, if we go through the process with care and thought, our homes become very personal and very special, and will last like the most special objects that we love. And those favorite shoes will fit for a very long time.
so well said. i've stopped (and resisted) buying "stuff" years ago, after having moved 12 times in 15 years, not able to bear schlepping these things from place to place, only to remain in boxes in the end. now, i think about the "intrinsic value" of things, will it be appreciated (form) and used (function) after the novelty wears off? now, the things that answer yes to this question i can't afford to buy anyway -- all the better for keeping my "stuff" to a minimum!
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