‘A Rebellious Act’: Are Young People Reviving Antiques?

Image credit: Treasure House Fair

Would you buy an antique Burmese tea-picker’s basket?

It’s a question that’s plagued me since I watched the item in question—a torso-sized bamboo container shaped like an ice-cream cone on steroids—get auctioned off on Antiques Road Trip. Who would’ve bought it?

Antiques reflect personal style and a desire to curate one’s own inimitable world.

I fantasised about this person. I saw an older buyer with a big house to display it in: I can’t imagine a tea-picker’s basket squashed into the muted confines of my apartment. I’d be equally surprised to see other people in their twenties or thirties buying such objects, since my generation seems more likely to go thrifting for clothes and knick-knacks.

My long-held assumption was that antiques and young people rarely mixed, but unusual developments have been changing this industry, and we may well be living in a new age of interest in the past.

On Kensington Church Street, a hub of London’s antiques trade, the different experiences of two dealers reflect how this industry is transforming. Peter Alexander, founder of furniture specialist Reindeer Antiques, says his youngest clients are in their forties. ‘The disposable cash that young people had is now taken up by increased housing costs, and the increased cost of tuition,’ he says.

‘Over the internet, it’s hard to explain the difference between a superior and inferior piece.’

They’re an affordable way for young people to distinguish themselves from the crowd. It’s for those who wish to defy the relentless cut-and-paste of Ikea.

In contrast, a few doors down the road, The Lacquer Chest’s Ewan Ramsay-Wilson says that his store’s customers range the whole gamut from 25 to 80, and that the main concern they face when shopping isn’t disposable income, but square footage.

‘Money is often not the issue—it’s whether they can fit it into their London apartment,’ he says. ‘It’s like, “It’s too wide for the corridor”. What I hear people saying is, “I’d like it, but I can't fit it in!”’

Ramsay-Wilson says that millennial customers have recently left his store with everything from Staffordshire pottery to Victorian botanical watercolours. But despite these success stories, he’s also wary of predicting the future. ‘We’ve been on these premises for nearly 70 years, and we’ve seen all sorts of ups and downs,’ he cites property crashes, financial crashes, the effects of 9/11, and mortgage rates.

It’s a mindset that Alexander shares, pointing to factors like the cost of employing staff and tariffs. These are some of his considerations, as well as how to encourage the next generation of collectors. ‘It’s a matter of trying to educate them,’ he says. ‘Over the internet, it’s hard to explain the difference between a superior and inferior piece.’

He’s not the only dealer who wants to invest time into cultivating new customers. Across London, there are many capitalising on what’s looking increasingly like a revival of interest amongst a younger crowd.

‘The younger customers who are lucky enough to have their own homes come and buy almost anything.’

‘They buy one or two statement pieces, and these function as conversation starters,’

This revival has its roots in an industry-wide trend, explains Thomas Woodham-Smith, co- founder of the Treasure House Fair, an annual art and design fair. The price of antiques rose steadily since the sixties and seventies, until ‘quite trivial, not high-quality pieces were being sold for several thousands, if not tens of thousands.’ This became a problem not just for dealers but also for consumers.

Antiques hadn’t just gotten pricier; they were also no longer relevant to how people lived. ‘We don’t have dining rooms anymore,’ he says: families and homes have gotten smaller, so many traditional furnishings weren’t practical to own.

In the 2000s, all of this caused a market correction. Because antiques had grown so outrageously expensive, buyers wishing to give their wallets a break turned their attention towards 20th- century designs instead.

The James Bond franchise encapsulates this transformation, as strange as it may seem. Woodham-Smith points out that in early Bond films like Dr. No, Bond’s flat was full of antiques. ‘That’s how a sophisticated spy lived in 1969,’ he says. In contrast, Daniel Craig’s Bond films feature sleek and modern set design, suiting the more utilitarian fashions of our era.

‘Engaging in the past is now a rebellious act.’

Following this shift, antiques prices have gone back down. This in turn has made them popular again. Perhaps the next James Bond, whoever they may be, might have a fondness for Wedgwood porcelain and 18th-century Rococo clocks (okay, maybe not, but I’d love to see it).

What I hear people saying is, “I’d like it, but I can't fit it in!”

It’s why buyers are flocking to events like the Decorative Fair, a thrice-yearly trade event specialising in antiques and textiles. ‘The younger customers who are lucky enough to have their own homes come and buy almost anything, including furniture and garden pieces,’ says Pippa Roberts, the Decorative Fair’s PR manager. This attitude has persisted even in difficult times.

When Covid began, there was an exodus of young professionals who swapped city dwelling for country houses. The pandemic didn’t stop them from wanting to outfit these bigger spaces in a classical style.

It’s not just individual buyers getting excited about these traditional crafts. Roberts says that up- and-coming designers are incorporating floral fabrics, antique furniture, and accessories like decorative porcelains on the mantelpiece—she name-drops designers like Flora Soames, Rita Konig, and Beata Heuman as important figures in this trend.

‘My rule of thumb is always to buy something that brings you joy.’

‘People aren’t buying to fill their whole house. They buy one or two statement pieces, and these function as conversation starters,’ Woodham-Smith notes. Young collectors are interested in pieces from wide-ranging disciplines, from 17th-century clocks to 19th-century jewellery, because acquiring these now sets them apart from the 20th-century styles that defined their parents’ tastes. He compares the hand-made nature of antiques to the guarantee of uniqueness that comes with NFTs, explaining that they’re an affordable way for young people to distinguish themselves from the crowd.

It’s for those who wish to defy the relentless cut-and-paste of Ikea. ‘Engaging in the past is now a rebellious act,’ he adds.

‘Affordable’, of course, is a relative term. If you’re at the Decorative Fair, Roberts says you can expect to spend around £1,000 or upwards on an item of furniture. That might feel like a gut punch, but she points out that a similar item, bought newly-made from a high-end store, might set you back anywhere from £6,000 to £10,000. Roberts highlights Georgian 18th century furniture as a particularly undervalued acquisition. These items have the added benefit of being sustainable: you’re recycling something made decades or even centuries ago, often with the goal of carefully using and appreciating it.

‘You meet your friends, eat and drink, you chat, and maybe you buy something. It’s like a festival.’

Antiques reflect personal style and a desire to curate one’s own inimitable world. This is why both Woodham-Smith and Roberts advise against treating them as an investment. The value isn’t likely to increase rapidly or predictably. ‘My rule of thumb is always to buy something that brings you joy,’ says Roberts.

‘The things the art world sells will change. But the joy of the transaction drives it.’

This enthusiasm is key. ‘At Treasure House Fair, we’re more of an event than an art fair,’ Woodham-Smith says. ‘You meet your friends, eat and drink, you chat, and maybe you buy something. It’s like a festival.’ It’s not just the objects on sale that are laced with tradition, it’s the process of going to experience items physically rather than virtually.

Regardless of generation, how many of us have the time to regularly appreciate beautiful things in person? As the Kensington Church Street dealers point out, it’s a basic human desire to admire lovely things and enjoy talking to those who share that passion.

It’s why young people want to showcase their special finds by decorating their homes with one-of-a-kind furniture crafted in another era. It’s also why there’s a sense of optimism amongst the antiques dealers I spoke to.

‘There’s a joke that the antique trade is the world’s second-oldest profession,’ Woodham-Smith says. ‘But as long as you can buy something and sell it for more, a dealer is happy.’

‘The things the art world sells will change,’ he says. ‘But the joy of the transaction drives it.’

All other images courtesy of The Decorative Fair.