A faded, peeling old dresser; a cracked white chandelier; a chipped, metal trash can painted with roses: To one person, these items are rejects for the junkvard, to another, they are a bounty of riches. Discovering beauty in and finding new uses for the old and worn discards of others greatly appeals to me, and there is no better place to find the faded and the decayed, the crumbling and the scuffed than a salvage yard or flea market, garage or estate sale.
Most cities and towns have salvage or junk yards, and most also offer some sort of market for secondhand items. Salvage yards are great for finding old bathroom fixtures or iron works, but tend to be a bit more expensive than flea markets, which usually reap the biggest and most economical crops of shabby pieces with the potential to evolve into chic treasures. Although flea markets vary from city to city, I find that weekly markets are less worthwhile than monthly markets, as a week isn’t enough time for vendors to restock their inventory.
Articles I like to look for at swap meets include: tapestries and rugs with floral of romantic motifs; lamps (metal wall sconces from the-forties are great); crystal or metal chandeliers (but nothing too gaudy); candleholders; floral paintings; vases; wicker furniture (preferably of a thick, sturdy variety); painted wood pieces, such as peeling vanities, dressers, and cabinets in pale colors or in colors that can be repainted; architectural moldings; iron-work furniture; and mirrors. (Don’t be put off by slight mottling, which can give a mirror added character. Do be wary, though, of mottling that creates too much distortion, rendering the mirror no longer functional.)
New functions for old forms: Found at a flea market, these attractive metal bowls were once the halves of globe-shaped street lamps. Some were lined with cloth, others with glass bowls from the local drugstore, while still others were left as is, depending on their contents. Here, the lamp pieces are used as whimsical holders for fruit, bread, eggs, and a candle, with a crisp piece of cotton and lace serving as a backdrop.
I also look for pieces that have multiple uses or the potential for new uses, such as trunks, doors, or gates that can be used as coffee tables; or metal-work half-spheres that were once part of lamps that can be used as bowls for flower petals, candles, or fruit. Old wooden door or window moldings and iron works in intricate patterns and patinas can make great mirror frames. Good architectural moldings come from demolition sites of old houses and can be found at junk yards and some (lea markets. I avoid moldings that are too scraped up and have more wood showing than paint, because they look too “country” for my taste. I like just enough dilapidation to render character, not true decay.
The interesting shape and floral detailing on this chair made it stand out from the rest of its flea market stall-mates.
This flea market trunk was in great condition and would barely need any handling.
Delicate and shabby, faded velvet roses on this vintage flea market find struck me as being quite beautiful.
A typical vendor stand is a mishmash of bits and bobs, odds and ends, clutter and clatter. Once your eye becomes trained, however, certain pieces will stand out as you learn to distinguish between trash and treasure.
Flea markets also can be ripe ground for unique pieces. If an object has no real purpose and is purely ornamental, I prefer that it exhibit unusual or whimsical characteristics that imbue it with humor or life. Parts of an object, for example, such as the foot, hand, or head of a statue, can be as beautiful as the whole.
For me, scouting flea markets is never about searching for objects with a certain value or status, that are from a specific period, or by a certain designer. Flea markets are where I find items that I am drawn to instinctively, due to their unique look, their workmanship, their feel, or their character. The attraction for a piece also might be that it seems simply perfect for that empty corner in the bedroom or that out-of-the-way space under the stairs.
FAR RIGHT: This humble wicker chair cost a friend twenty dollars at a flea market and an additional one hundred and fifty dollars to have a small frayed area on the arm repaired. The intricate detailing and the green paint peeking through the peeling white paint give the chair a mottled appearance that I find appealing, although the entire chair could easily he repainted white for a clean, fresh look. (See Resource Guide.)
BELOW: Old window and door moldings make great frames for pictures and mirrors. I look for those in muted colors with enough peeling and crumbling to lend texture but not so much that the piece looks as if it will fall apart. Salvage yards, flea markets, and demolition sisters are good places to look for moldings.
This old painted dresser was in great shape, with interesting details—I painted it cream.
To beat the crowds and to benefit from the widest choice the most opportune time to go to a market or meet is when it first opens, usually around six A.M. I like to arrive at sunrise, the vendors are still unloading their vans and trucks, markets have become so popular in the last few years and competition for the best pieces so fierce that I try to snatch pieces before they even make it off the truck.
Those with an eve on value, however, should consider trip at the end of the day which is a good time to get bargains from tired sellers, who, anxious to get rid of their wares, are more amenable to giving discounts.
It’s also a good idea to get to know the market a little before buying. Stroll around to assess the variety of offerings and compare prices. Some sellers may even put items on hold for a few hours, enabling you to do a bit of comparison shopping without losing the object you’re interested in. Take your time, especially if you are new to the world of flea markets. Once you become seasoned, you’ll be able to sense immediately if something is “right” and if the asking price is reasonable. If you buy often enough and in quantity, you can build a relationship with certain vendors, who may even purchase items specifically with you in mind. When I wander around flea markets, sellers often point out some decrepit cabinet and tell me it reminded them of something they thought I’d like.
Don’t be afraid to walk away from something. When I really like a piece, I try to act as nonchalant as possible, for if a seller can tell you’re going to buy something, he has no incentive to give you a better price. II you appear hesitant, he may come down a few dollars to entice you. When I see someone else looking at an object that I like, I won’t show that I’m interested when he puts the object down; I wait until that person actually leaves the stall. Many times a potential buyer has put something down only to become suddenly reinterested when I showed interest, too. Sensing a demand for an item can also make the seller ask a higher price. When the seller does name his price, you might want to offer anywhere from 20 to 40 percent less so that you can come to a compromise somewhere in between. It’s better to barter with cash, and you can also expect better discounts if you buy in quantity.
If you’re not buying an object immediately but want to remember where it is, or if you want to come back later to pick up a purchase, jot down the stall number where you found it. If there are no numbers, make note of the surroundings. I often write down little notes to myself like “mirror at stall next to big blue awning, near red truck.”
Though a worn-out, weathered look is a quality I look for, it makes sense to look for things that aren’t too damaged, especially if you don’t have a lot of time and money for restoration. There is sometimes a fine line between trash and treasure, and only the buyer can decide when junk really is just junk. If a piece needs a major restructuring job, is extremely delicate, or if repainting will ruin it or make it look too fake, it might not be worth buying. Trying to restore wicker that is too dilapidated can be as frustrating as attempting to repair a run in a stocking, not to mention expensive. If the flaw is something simple like a torn piece on the seating, I just add a pillow. If the imperfection is a tiny bit of tattered arm, I might decide to live with it. I have a friend who bought an old paper-wrapped wicker rocker for twenty dollars and spent a hundred and fifty dollars to restore it. For her, the piece was so beautiful and rare, restoring it was worth the expense.
Before: I loved the muted sea-green color of this old painted headboard. Rather than repaint it, I left the piece peeling and crumbling, and later turned it into a daybed topped with a patchwork of pink floral and cream bedspreads and pillows.
To transform this headboard and frame, I added big fabric bolsters to the back and sides. For a casual feel, I used a mixture of plaids, florals, and solids and covered the mattress with an Indian-print bedspread of the type that can be purchased at import stores for fifteen or twenty dollars. All I did to the dresser was add some green glass knobs. To make the Roman blinds, I used inexpensive bedcovers and kept them unlined for a natural, sun-bleached feel.
The fruits of a two-hour stop at the flea market. I picked up about twenty-six items on this particular morning, including everything from dressers and trunks to lamp shades and metal baskets.
Equally as important as avoiding pieces that are too worn is avoiding overly perfect or faux old pieces, like furniture that has been painted or repainted, then intentionally scraped and scratched to look worn. With the increasing popularity of vintage painted wooden furniture, this faux old phenomenon is becoming more common as truly authentic vintage pieces become more scarce. To discern if something is truly old versus merely made to appear that wav, look for defects that are more random than uniform and colorations that are varied or appear in gradations. Paint jobs that look stroked on only in patches or deliberately rubbed away in spots are other signs of fake aging. To buy a piece that you will have to turn into something shabby is to miss the point, for the appeal of a piece is in its natural aging, not in the false creation of the appearance of age. If I feel as if I would need to chip away at a piece with a hammer or scrape it with sandpaper to give it an aged feel, I forgo it. In addition to distinguishing between real old versus fake old, hunt for pieces that are substantial and have some weight to them—in other words, that aren’t too fragile or rickety—and articles with evidence of craftsmanship.
Objects with a real history and a defect or two are more appealing and somehow more approachable, so don’t be put off by a few places where the oak wood peeks through a pale green vanity table or by rusty patches of metal on an old candleholder. The beauty is in the imperfection. The charm is in the flaw.
Details give objects an added aesthetic appeal and make the difference between the ordinary and the unique collector’s piece. An intricate floral wreath on the drawer of a tiny, chipped green dresser was the selling point that made me take notice. A screen underneath, once used to keep bugs out, gave the piece a historical dimension, and the fact that it was held together by interlocking pieces of wood rather than nails authenticated its age. Carved or painted flower motifs always add to the value of a piece. Because labor costs are so prohibitive, it’s rare to find in new furniture a flower carving that is not a separate, decorative piece that was attached later. While these attached pieces can be quite lovely, and I have used them on occasion to dress up the edges of mirrors, authentic carvings are preferable.
The legs and edges of a vanity, end table, or chair are also good indicators of quality and age. Most vanities made between the turn of the century and the forties have fluted rather than straight-edged surfaces, and their legs tend to be curved and detailed. Curved or bowed drawers are other desirable and hard-to-find features.
In iron works, be they lighting fixtures, gates, frames, tables, or chairs, I look for fine detailing and steer away from pieces that are too clunky or crude. In a toile floral chandelier, for example. I examine the flowers for their intricacy and realism, for the delicacy of their edges and curves, and for the fineness of their lines. Iron works from the forties and earlier are usually more detailed than later works. Because iron works often come in black, I almost always paint them ivory.
The intricate flower carvings and architectural patterns on this vintage dresser are evidence of its age and give it aesthetic appeal.
The fine workmanship and well-thought-out proportions are what attracted me to this turn-of-the-century blue Italian bedside table. Its tapered shape, floral detail, and casters are all features that add to its character and reveal its authenticity.
This nineteenth-century French bedside table is a fine example of what to look for in vintage pieces, as it exhibits incredible detail and has an almost sensuous quality owing to its curved legs, drawers, and sides and the intricately painted flowers on its front and sides. The faded color of the paint and the various crackles add to the piece’s timeworn appeal.
Easy ways to spruce up objects that need only minimal help include painting, adding new hardware or lining, or placing a piece of fabric, marble, or glass over a problem area.
If a table, cabinet, or wicker rocker, for example, is attractive in shape and proportion, but is stained in an ugly brown or lime green, it can find new life with a coat of white or cream paint. Semigloss or gloss paint is best, as a matte finish tends to absorb too much dirt. I will give wood pieces a light scour with a bristle brush or sponge and some soap and warm water. (Once the dirt is removed, if the look and texture still aren’t right, the piece can be very lightly sanded—but only lightly; a strenuous sanding can ruin a piece’s weathered look. If the piece has been painted with gloss paint, it may need to be sanded a little more.) Then I prime and paint the piece. If I’m going to repaint a piece that has painted hardware, and the piece is already a color I like, I’ll leave the hardware as is in order to keep some of its original shabbiness intact. I simply cover the hardware with tape while I paint the rest. The end result is a freshly painted piece with crackled, peeling hinges or handles. Because wicker is so fragile, I don’t recommend sanding it or washing it too roughly. Wicker is also fairly absorbent, so I prefer to paint it as is so that it retains some of its coarse texture.
Revamping a piece of vintage furniture can be as easy as replacing unsightly knobs and handles or adding old casters.
TOP: This pile of antique casters includes wood, brass, steel, porcelain, and rubber rollers from the seventeenth through the twentieth centuries. In the late 1800s and early 1900s it was not uncommon for dining room tables, dressers, and kitchen cabinets to have casters for easy mobility. (See Resource Guide.)
These glass, crystal, and porcelain knobs date from the late eighteenth through twentieth centuries. (See Resource Guide.)
Older knobs and handles with more character can be found at vintage hardware stores such as Liz’s Antique Hardware in Los Angeles. They can also be discovered at some salvage yards, or can be scavenged from other pieces of furniture. (See Resource Guide.)
If the knobs or handles on a vanity are too new or unattractive, or if they are missing, they easily can be replaced with detailed antique porcelain, glass, or crystal fixtures. Ranging in price from about seven to forty dollars per knob at vintage hardware outlets (they may run slightly cheaper at salvage yards or flea markets but are harder to find), antique fixtures are not a bargain. But they are well worth the expenditure, as they add to the quality and interest of a piece. The pieces needn’t match, either. If you keep an underlying theme—all glass knobs of the same size but with different designs etched on them, for example—the effect can be even more charming than a perfectly matched set.
When the top of a dresser is beyond repair, marred by too many scratches or worn out pieces of wood, I might cover it with a piece of vintage lace then top the lace with a sheet of glass (glass costs an average of fifteen to twenty dollars per square foot—slightly more if the glass has beveled edges). I may also conceal the damaged area with a slab of marble, which I often use to rejuvenate the tops of consoles or side tables. I opt for dull rather than shiny, glitzy finishes and for marble that is gray, white, or cream with gray or brown veins, as these colors are more versatile, working well in a variety of surroundings. Marble from a marble and/or glass specialist can run anywhere from about seven to one hundred dollars per square foot, or more, depending on its quality, color, and thickness; the marble dealer I use has more than one hundred different styles to choose from. The edging treatment of the marble can also add to its cost. A three-by-three-foot slab of a basic marble with rounded rather than flat edges costs anywhere from $250 to $325. Where appropriate, I prefer rounded, bull-nosed edges; these cost a little more but create a facade of extra thickness.
Though wicker furniture is fairly hardy despite its frail appearance, weatherproofing is a good idea if the furniture will be exposed to the ravages of sun and rain for an extended period of lime. Adding a coat of paint is one way to lengthen the life of wicker.
Another way is to cover it with a sheet of glass.
I use pieces in ways that are different from their original intention. This pale yellow antique vanity retrieved from a flea market (LEU) was later placed in a bathroom lacking built-ins, where it functions as a cabinet for towels, toiletries, and other bathroom necessities (ABOVE). The mirror is useful, while the top of the vanity serves as a place for a pretty lace runner, a brush and comb set, and family photographs.
This old green chest of office drawers “...I picked up at a flea market...” (TOP) works perfectly as a storage space for paints, fabrics, and other odds and ends in this light-filled artist’s studio (BOTTOM). Finding its degree of shabbiness perfect, all I did to restore the cabinet was to add some new glass knobs.
I placed a slab of marble atop this somewhat rickety, weathered iron console to give it substance as well as ground it. The mercury glass vases are from the turn of the century. A few years ago they could be bought for about fifty dollars apiece; now they have become so popular that they may sell for as much as three hundred to four hundred dollars each.
For iron table bases that lack lipped edges to set the glass or marble into, I buy glass or marble that is approximately two to six inches bigger all the wav around in order to create a slight overhang. To keep the glass or marble from slipping, I secure it with small pieces of green felt that can be purchased at hardware stores for just this purpose. With small end tables, I might replace the glass with a cushion to create a small seat.
Mirror, like glass, is not expensive—a plain four-by-tour-foot mirror costs around forty dollars, but runs about a dollar per inch more if it has beveled edges. The type of mirror I choose depends on how intricate the trame is. For a very detailed wrought-iron floral frame, I would probably use plain mirror. For a simple wooden trame, beveled mirror adds nice detail. Whatever trame you use, make sure the mirror is securely fastened. This is best achieved with wood bracing.
For old cabinets, I either repaint the inside, add contact paper, or put in a mirrored back to give the illusion of depth. If the inside back isn’t too decrepit, I may leave it as is to keep some of its character.
A trunk with an inside that is a bit dilapidated can be inexpensively freshened up with a fabric lining and a satchel of potpourri. Be sure to check the trunk for termites before lining it. (Termites can be easily gotten rid of with a spray treatment.) For an average-size trunk, you’ll need anywhere from a half to two or three yards of fabric, the price of which can vary enormously in price per yard, depending on the material and its quality. You might even use some old fabric scraps from around the house. I usually use an inexpensive cotton floral that I simply tack on with push pins, although fabric also can be fastened in place with a staple gun or fabric glue.
If a tapestry is too worn, with large rips in prominent places, or just looks too delicate, I walk away from it no matter how lovely it is, because it will very likely fall apart. However, if, like this tapestry I picked up at a flea market, it is merely frayed in spots, it may be well worth the restoration. Loose threads can be fixed by catching them with another thread about every one half inch or so as needed about every one half inch or so as needed (INSET). In more extreme cases, edges and hems can be cut and new pieces of fabric added as trimming and reinforcement.
Tapestries with frayed edges can be refurbished by catching stray threads and/or cutting off the damaged area and adding a new fabric border that acts as a reinforcement. If the fabric is too moth-eaten, avoid it, as it will eventually deteriorate.
Overall, when shopping a flea market, I look for items that have character but aren’t completely dilapidated. The less one has to fuss with an object, the better. Not only does a minimum of tampering better maintain the original integrity of an item, but it also means a lot less work for the buyer. There are, however, times when there is something so unique or eye-catching about a piece that it can’t be passed up, no matter how involved the restoration process.
• A flashlight: A crack that may look charming in the darkness of dawn may be a disaster by the light of noon. Be sure you can see what you’re getting.
• Cash: Having plenty of cash on hand is more likely to get you good deals and some vendors don’t accept checks.
• A cart or dolly: Lugging pieces back and forth to your vehicle can get very tiring without a cart or dolly, and some pieces are just too heavy to be carried on their own. Some vendors may be willing to lend you their carts, but others won’t.
• A truck: Borrow one from a friend or rent one for the day if you’re planning to buy large or numerous pieces. There’s nothing more frustrating than having inadequate room to carry your purchases home. Very few vendors will deliver.
• Cords, rope, and blankets: Bring plenty of rope and bungee cords to insure a secure transport home. Blankets help protect pieces of furniture from damage and breakage. It’s especially important to wrap mirrors, glass, and wicker.
• Fingerless gloves: These keep your hands warm while still allowing for maneuverability. Bulky gloves might make you hesitate about touching or picking up objects, which is a big part of choosing a piece.
There is a lot more to creating a beautiful, functional living space than skimming through lifestyle magazines, reading design books, and consulting interior decorators. Plays, movies, life events, articles of clothing, or accessories may also provide inspiration for home design as well as new uses for old forms and ideas for unexpected placement of new forms. A circus might reap a color idea or salvage parts perfect for a child’s room. The petticoat from a theater costume spurred me to create a new ruffle to be used for a tablecloth and napkins. A wreath design on a vintage sewing hag I picked up was the inspiration for a new fabric pattern.
Observing people and animals and how they sit, snuggle, move, and interact can influence the design of a piece of furniture or its placement in a room. I created a round, low, cushy fabric chair I call the Pout after watching my daughter, Lily, and son, Jake, and their friends consistently choose to plop on the floor rather than the couch, complaining all the while about how uncomfortable it was as they lolled about—an example of necessity truly being the mother of invention or of function serving as inspiration.
For me, the landscape is a great place to find stimulation for design. Flowers or seashells, for example, often can be used in new and unexpected ways. I’ve used roses and other flowers to adorn cakes, decorate mirrors and presents, and accompany place settings. The random color variations in a meadow or field and the scale and proportions of those variations can inspire color schemes. Observing the subtle gradations of greens and creams in a garden, I used those same hues in the design of sofa and chair fabrics. Looking to nature’s imperfections and the natural wear and tear that occurs over time induces a new appreciation for flaws and irregularities in manmade objects. The faded, dusty pink of a dying rose has inspired me to sun-bleach a bright floral fabric over time in order to mimic a real rose’s natural passage from vivid to muted.
I call this oversized fabric poster “The Lonely Clown.” Cut from a big-top tent canvas, this was the remaining loner unsold for several months after I had sold thirty-eight others in sets of two. But eventually it too found a home. Pieces like this are the perfect impetus for decorating an entire children’s room.
Although I usually prefer mismatched table linens, I found these gossamer napkins of iridescent gold organza belonging to Jennifer Nicholson inspiring. Their holders made from seashells also have an appealing elegance.
Personal collections, whether family photographs or something as commonplace as children’s art, can inspire a display that gives a home individuality and character that cannot be acquired through a decor shop. I have strung some of my children’s paintings across a clothes line and hung it above the counter in my kitchen. Others I have framed and hung in my bedroom.
When it comes time to finding a place in the home for flea market or other finds, I usually adhere to my less is more philosophy: negative space serves as my guide. Leaving ample breathing space around large objects such as vanities and dressers gives a room a more open feel and prevents the jumbled look of clutter upon clutter, even if their surfaces are filled with personal treasures.
I also find inspiration from taking what is meant to be formal and placing it in a more casual setting. While giving the pleasing effect of making the object seem more accessible, this also renders the setting slightly more refined. A crystal chandelier, expected in a formal dining room or a grand entryway, is a wonderful surprise in a bathroom, while a mirror designed for a fireplace mantle can give a hallway an air of casual grandeur. Taking the casual and placing it in a more formal setting, on the other hand, also sets up an appealing contrast. Metal patio furniture doesn’t have to be relegated to the outdoors. An intricate iron work garden table and chair set can be charming in a breakfast nook, study, or bedroom.
A weathered, red wooden milk bucket, its surface scratched, its paint peeling from years of wear and tear, becomes a handy container for all kinds of utensils when placed on an iron plant holder in Philomena Giusti’s kitchen.
Though often overlooked when decorating, wastepaper baskers can be attractive additions to a room. To make this wire-mesh basket more functional, I lined it with muslin to prevent small objects from slipping through. The wicker ones are appealing in their frayed state.
I add vintage buttons to the backs of pillows to give them additional visual interest and detail. I gravitate toward buttons with intricate patterns in glass, plastic, or tortoiseshell. These generally cost about one to five dollars at flea markets.
Photographs of family and friends are among our most personal articles, adding individuality to any room in a home. This collection of old and new portraits in Philomena Giusti’s living room inspired her to display them within an attractive array of wood, silver, and enamel antique frames.
Inspiration is about paving attention to the smallest of details and noticing subtleties of form and color. Reality is found not only in a finished object but in all its parts, the processes that create it, the evolution that transforms it, and the environment around it.