Collector's Luck
The art of turning nothing into something.
Hi everyone. This is my second-to-last ATA letter you’ll receive before the calendar turns. So, I want to remind you that we’ve got just one week left on our cute little 40% off paid subscription special—a whole year of A Tiny Apt. for just $30. It’s no secret that every paid subscription makes this little world of essays, design discoveries, thrifting, closet edits, and small space delights possible. If you can swing it, why not give it a shot? I have a feeling it might make your year, just like ALL of you have made mine.❤️
Last month, a few weeks after my birthday during what was/IS possibly the most insane time of the year, I managed to get a few people I sincerely adore in the same room for a little friends holiday soirée.
During these glorious two hours, we partook of some bubbles, shared a little bit about the past year we’d had. We talked about how much we love art and cheese (I had some good ones!), and we also did a very low-key gift exchange—no biggies, just what we might have had hanging around the house that we could happily/willingly move along down the friends exchange line.
Somehow, I was the luckiest person in the world that night to receive a book from my friend Hallie that I’d never heard of nor seen before: Collector’s Luck by Alice Van Leer Carrick, first published in July 1919 (the one she gave me, above, was published in 1926). As soon as I read the title and passed my hand over the cover, I felt my whole body kind of shiver. Those GOOD chills you get when someone says something out loud that you were in that very moment thinking or you spot some real Prada or Joe Colombo at a second-hand store.
When I began reading the first few pages of this book written (so beautifully) by my new friend Alice some 106 years ago, I immediately felt a kinship…and like, well, I wished Alice and I could go thrifting together. Here’s a little of how it starts…
In the book, Alice takes us through 100 or so sections/categories of things she collects, from “charming lamps of odd design” to old dolls and “two interesting chairs” (I just love that:). It’s as much a diary of Alice’s collections/obsessions as it is a directory of strange and wondrous things to be on the lookout for…not only in thrift shops but in LIFE.
I haven’t been able to stop thinking about the idea of collecting things as being about Luck…the whole premise of Alice’s book. Are we lucky to find these things, or do we become lucky once they have been found by us? I can’t quite figure out which it is, but I honestly don’t think it matters. What does seem to matter is the fact that collecting—the things we keep as well as the things we don’t—continually brings us back to ourselves…our true selves. Without filters or algorithms or anything else that gets in the way of what we might be trying to say or feel or express.
My freshly tidied shelves, displaying some of my favorite (lucky:) things I collected this past year, including an original Alvar Aalto stool, vintage Paliset Finland cabinet, vintage chrome Chase candlesticks, and my newly added tiny vintage bust of Aphrodite.
I didn’t bring Collector’s Luck to Florida this past week when I brought Raffi down to see her grandmother (my mom:), but Alice’s words and ideas were in my head as I headed out on my first thrifting expedition after arriving. The Goodwill in West Palm Beach is always the first place I go after we drop our bags and Raffi commences her full immersion in all the new toys/art treats my mom has surprised her with. I always head to the back of the store first, where all the furniture and housewares are, and then weave a path up and down clothing aisles, dipping in only when I see a swatch of fabric (old denim, silk chiffon), or an interesting pattern that looks intriguing.
(Remember now, I haven’t even been in Florida for an hour yet.) And even before I reached the back of the Goodwill I saw IT: An interesting blonde wood dresser, with curvy ‘80s lines and strips of chrome detail. As I pulled out the top drawer, I saw the engraved metal medallion, evidence of its provenance, “Century by Jay Spectre.” I immediately started googling, discovering within about three minutes that Spectre was a well-known interior designer in the 1960s/’70s/’80s, who was born in Kentucky, worked in New York City, and passed away in 1992. Reading more, his work had a rare sculptural effect for the time and he was known for being particular and progressive with his clients and also his rare furniture designs. The dresser I found at the Goodwill was priced at $60. And here it is on 1st Dibs for close to $6k.
No, I didn’t buy the dresser (I went back for it the next day, even though I suspected it had been sold and was being held for someone, and I was right). But you know the whole thing really wasn’t about the dresser so I didn’t feel too badly. It was about discovering a designer I never knew before. And the fervor/excitement so many of you got to share with me when I posted this little video above on my Instagram Stories (your DMs were KILLING me!!) after spotting it. It was also about the blueness I felt that Spectre had died so young. And also the pure joy I felt that on this random Thursday, some stranger whom Spectre never knew came to know him. And remember and learn about all the cool things he did while he was here.
That is a form of luck. Not just finding or collecting things, but the way something can make you feel when you do find it. What it can make you think about. For example, it made me realize I really don’t like my own dresser back in Brooklyn very much. And it made me excited—like REALLY freaking excited—about all the interesting things I was going to see and find and learn about over the next few days.
As Alice writes in her book, “collecting isn’t just a fad; it isn’t even just a divine madness…properly interpreted, it’s an education.”
And that is kind of where everything I love most converges…where everything overlaps in this newsletter, too—our homes and how we choose what’s in them; the things we wear and how they help to tell the world how we’re feeling/who we’re becoming as well as who we are not. Because when we collect something that we love, we automatically see space in our lives where that thing can exist…that thing in US that was previously hidden…that can exist, too. So, to me, collecting helps us make sense of ALL of this stuff in our lives. Completely contradicting that idea that collecting takes up space. I think in many ways collecting helps to CREATE it…space in a corner or on a shelf or in our workday where once there wasn’t. Like this magic trick, creating something out of nothing.
I’m home alone today. And before I sat down to write this, I decided to find a place for a few of the things I found over the last few days in Florida—a piece of blue Danish pottery, a small plaster bust (Aphrodite, maybe?), a ‘90s black leather Gap blazer, and a pair of perfect 34x29 vintage Levi’s 505 jeans. Marveling at this photo I took at the airport yesterday of my little carry-on bag of treasures, I took an hour this morning to clean, to gather up a few things I no longer wanted, to make space for the new things that had come into my life (and what is yet to come✨). This book Collector’s Luck being one of them.
As we wind down the year (I’ll have one more short newsletter coming to you after Christmas), I want to invite you to collect something…or even just think about something you’d like to collect or find…something that might find YOU ❤️.
Something small or not so small. Definitely discard something, too…maybe leave a few things in a box out on your stoop or at the end of your driveway for someone/anyone. A small gesture of gratitude, of giving, of being open to serendipity, last-minute friend gatherings, and $6k vintage designer dressers…just falling into your lap.
Last tiny thing: On my last day in Florida, I was standing on the checkout line with my little Aphrodite bust when I spotted a painting propped HIGH up on an out-of-reach shelf all the way across the thrift store (ALWAYS look up:)))). I hated the idea of leaving my spot on the long line, but…oh DAMMIT, I had to investigate. I took a photo and immediately texted it to my friend Hallie…the very same person who gave me the book. Within about a minute she responded that even though she didn’t love the painting, it looked “promising” in terms of value and the frame looked “legit.” That was enough for me.
The painting did not fit in my carry-on bag on the plane ride home, but my saint of a mom did give me permission to leave it in her garage until I can finally get a van to drive all my collected-and-stored-at-her-house-things home (oh dear van sponsors, I summon thee!). So yes, I guess it’s lucky, too, when you have a free place to store something big you’ve collected. Because where there’s a will, there’s (always) a way….xxCb
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This speaks to my soul. I feel totally seen and validated for all my hunting, collecting, and giving.
Dude, that painting looks like a Dutch kitchenscape...glizty frame and all...i would have grabbed it, too....glad mom let you park it @ her place...thanks to you I get to LOOK at and enjoy my teacup collection (you may recall displaying them on my fireplace!), instead of them being stashed away in boxes. Just last week i decided to actually USE my teacups...I love them so much and i've been collecting them since i was a teenager, because i treasure everything about the ritual of tea drinking...now i just have to find a pot i love :) that dresser was quite the find...how fun!