Everything I've Learned About Home + Design from John Derian
Be Here Now and other wisdom.
Last week, I received an invitation to a party in Hudson (near where we live upstate) at a store called Finch. The email announced a new collection of limited-edition decoupage created with the New York City designer/collector/shop owner/style historian John Derian.
I got excited.
To go to the party YES. But also…John Derian.
I hadn’t (really) realized until that moment rsvp’ing how much John Derian has meant to me, and how much he’s taught me, as I’ve grown up and become a person here in the city and, as a result, discovered my own version of home here, too.
Just a few days before the invite arrived, I’d spent a crisp Saturday morning at the Taconic Antiques Fair, and when I found a decoupage sculpture with cutout magazine pictures of women’s faces all over it, I thought of him. (It wasn’t until writing this story here did I even know that Derian opened his first store in NYC in the 1990s to initially sell his own decoupage pieces).
There were many things at the fair that made me think of John Derian. An early 19th century banner from a church in France (I bought it 😇). Or the vintage full-size articulating skeleton for our front door (w/original packaging! bought that, too) that I could easily imagine greeting any of us this time of year at one of Mr. Derian’s East Village shops.
Halloween at John Derian.
John Derian’s eye and stores are part of my own history here. Maybe yours, too. Years ago, our second office at my former company was on Cooper Square, just a few blocks from his original shop on East 2nd Street. There were many days, after dropping in at Peel’s on the corner to get a coffee and see my friend André, that I would sneak over to the JD store to occasionally buy something—a tiny dish for my tea bag, a kitchen magnet, whatever I could afford that made me smile.
But mostly, I went to look.
It didn’t take long to learn that looking at John Derian is what it’s all about. Noticing things. A shade of brilliant red aged by a century of English weather, the glossy surface texture of a very old/very grand painting. Piles of special household things like napkins or notebooks that made you feel that your ordinary life always had a handful of extraordinary bits, too.
Even when I was broke, John Derian showed me how to love creating my home. That there was a ceremony to it. He showed me how fun it is to choose things (or allow them to choose ME). And he also showed me how stepping into a flea market or antiques shop was nothing short of a personal pilgrimage.
Most of all though, he taught me to pay attention to my own eye…and trust it.
Outside the original John Derian shop on East 2nd Street…may we all age as spectacularly as this old af garden table.
Along with Ilse Crawford (who changed many of our lives in how she wrote about the sensual touchstones of home), Mr. Derian is someone who permanently altered how I see and feel a space.
When that space is mine and also when it isn’t.
His love and curiosity of old/ancient things and how they imbue an environment with this life force that defies dimensions. Because of John Derian, I am someone who knows that a beautiful home has nothing to do with how much space or money I have. It has to do with how much I listen to what I actually LIKE.
It is not an exaggeration to say that John Derian has helped me to know myself better. Where I come from, the singular place I am creating for myself in this life and in my own spaces—this newsletter, too:). How in every little thing I notice, appreciate, carry home I am also quietly reconnecting to other people, traditions, and times long ago.
A reminder that I am never really alone when I am in my home.
After I got the invitation, I cleared time on my schedule to go over to the John Derian store…there are three now, all in a row. A mini expedition that brought me back to the beginning of my connection to him and how his POV has taught me so much about my own. How much I’ve learned about design over decades from those early visits and stories about him that became a permanent part of my internal Dream Board.
In no particular order, here are the most special things John Derian has taught me about creating a feeling of HOME in our spaces, and why being a link between the past and the present is so much more than simply nostalgia.✨
1. Rare is enchanting.
Strategists love to talk about the scarcity effect and how limited quantities of things drives desire. There’s this, too…
Loss aversion: Humans feel the pain of losing something more intensely than the pleasure of gaining an equivalent item.
Maybe.
If you’re a collector or thrifter like most of us are here, you know that finding one of something is just how we roll…but it’s also only one piece of the puzzle. The other part—which is the fun part—What is it? How did it get here? Where did it come from? How was it made?
When there is many/millions of something, we care less about the story. But when there is only one, we somehow yearn for that story like it’s our own. John Derian’s propensity for collecting beautiful rare things like antique portraits, textiles, sculptures, garden furniture, drawings, and books were always like breadcrumbs when I headed off on my own thrifting adventures. And they still are. But now that I’m older, I don’t feel the loss or pain of missing out on something, passing it up or letting it go. Because of wandering his shops and poring over his home tours, I do a lot of learning just from LOOKING. And now know myself well enough to recognize when the thing is actually for me or when it’s probably for someone else and it’s merely my job to honor/appreciate it in the moment. Translation: A rare thing isn’t just about scarcity—it’s about awakening us to SEE MORE than we otherwise would if it were abundant and everywhere.
2. Glamour is a construct.
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