Furniture Consignment Gallery Blog

He shot into the showroom like he'd been launched straight from the corner office by a cannon. His white shirt was crisply starched, his shoes were shined and he reeked of expensive cologne. "I need a table," he said abruptly and somewhat angrily. Nothing fancy. Four legs and a flat surface. Where he could drink his coffee and read the paper. Alone.

Two days later, a black Escalade ripped into our parking lot. Out jumped a guy in surgical scrubs, a surgeon, sweaty after hours in the operating room. "I need a chair," he snapped. Something comfortable, he said, but he had to be able to fit it in his car and carry it up three flights of stairs, by himself, to his new and empty apartment. We found him a nice barrel chair at a reasonable price. Now at least he has a spot in which to sip a stiff drink after work.

What's going on? Two different guys, same week, same story. They came home from work to find the locks changed and the golf clubs scattered all over the lawn. I guess May must be the month for disgruntled wives to really clean house.

At least Wife #1 was able to offer one small act of mercy to the schmuck in the driveway. "Where do I go?" he asked his wife as he stuffed his belongings into the trunk of the car. "I don't care," she yelled out the window. "Get an apartment." Shocked, he stammered, "But I don't even have a bed - or a table."

"Look at the detail!" one of our regular customers exclaimed stopping short right in front of a newly arrived item, an Eldred Wheeler Collector's Edition Bonnet Top Secretary.

No wonder. With 12 small drawers, 14 secret drawers, and exquisite fan carvings, the secretary is an extraordinary example of the art of woodworking. What caught her eye, though, were the two small and delicate shelves of wood that slid smoothly out from beneath the cabinet doors. "What are these?"     

"Those are the candle slides," Ron, our showroom manager and furniture expert, explained. "Before electricity, you would need a candle near to provide light for your work."

The Eldred Wheeler piece is a reproduction, but it tells a lot about the way of life in Massachusetts in the 1700s. Woodworkers spent days - even weeks - on the fan carvings and details. Hidden drawers and subtle pigeonholes were a secret delight for the owner.

Which got me thinking.  In last week's blog, I killed off Queen Anne, declaring that once-popular furniture style now out-of-date. Pieces as exquisite as the Eldred Wheeler are rare - and so expensive that few but the most ardent collector can afford them. So what's next for the rest of us?

We are at a crossroads. We're taller and fatter. We aren't farmers and small-town laborers like they were in the 1700s. We roam the planet like hunter-gatherers now. We shed belongings - and buy more - with every move. We like quality but we won't pay for it.  

What does that mean for furniture? Are we happy to live on chunks of foam wrapped in polyester? Has furniture become the new Dixie cup: disposable? Are we still willing to pay for quality, detail, character and art? What do you think?

Until her death in 1714, Queen Anne ruled Great Britain for a dozen years. Hers was a short but dismal reign. She suffered from gout, watery eyes, multiple miscarriages and morbid obesity. She was an unlovely woman - who nonetheless gave her name to a very lovely style of furniture.

Ironically, the Queen Anne style is all about sleek legs and delicate curves - quite unlike the corpulent monarch with the legendary appetite. For three centuries, her furniture enjoyed a modest and enduring popularity. Then for some reason, in the 1980s, Queen Anne furniture became the style statement of a generation of baby boomers.

Every leading American furniture-maker filled its showrooms with glossy tables made of cherry wood perched on shapely cabriolet legs. For a decade, Queen Anne ruled the roost. Walk into any four-bedroom colonial in an upscale community and you would find a predictable scene: Queen Anne tables, chairs, desks, lowboys, breakfronts and highboys, some decorated with shells and others with acanthus leaves.

Fast forward to 2014, and the furniture with the can-can legs has lost its appeal.

The Queen is dead - for at least the next century. That's what our customers are telling us. The few pieces we have taken on consignment in the last year typically spend a few lonely weeks, ignored, on the showroom floor before we return them to their owners.

Still, some people are loyal royalists. One woman called us last week asking if we would take fifty pieces of furniture she'd bought in 1986. The stuff was in pristine condition. Protected from the sun, the flame-stitched cushions hadn't faded a bit. No ding or dent married those cabriolet legs. But I had to tell her the Queen wouldn't be lying in state at FCG. She was crushed at the news.

I have strong opinions – and so does my wife, Diana. When we disagree, the staff runs for cover. After nearly ten years of running a business together, we’re pretty good at verbal sparring. Our arguments can be intense, animated and loud. (Hey, I’m Italian!)  At the end of the day, though, we always remember Rule #1: Don’t take the business home. 

One topic is sparking debate – and we haven’t resolved it yet. Does staging help sell a home? Staging is the art of editing and arranging furniture and eliminating clutter to make a house more appealing to buyers. Professional stagers buy or rent furniture and accessories such as art to enhance a home. Many of Boston’s top stagers are customers of FCG.

Since we’re selling our own home – and we have three stores of furniture from which to borrow – this is just theoretical. I’m in favor of staging. Here’s why:

• I think reducing clutter allows buyers to visualize how they would live in your home. I think buyers find clutter distracting, cementing the idea that it’s your home – not theirs.

• I think that bright, neutral paint and lots of lighting make a house more appealing to potential buyers – even if they are privately planning to paint the dining room a deep shade of eggplant later.

• I think less is more. Scaling down the furniture makes a house look bigger, in my view, giving buyers the impression they are getting more house for their buck.
•  I think it is important to put those antiques in storage and update the furniture because most buyers, especially younger ones buying a starter home, want a more modern look.

Diana disagrees. Here’s her view

• Clutter is irrelevant. She believes potential buyers are capable of seeing beyond the framed kids’ art and the hockey gear and imagining themselves in a home.

•  She says buyers can imagine a room emptied of its weary-looking wing chairs and filled with their own chic furniture. In fact, she believes, pandering to some imagined buyer’s style preference is a waste of time, money and energy.
  

• Staging is fake – and hard on sellers. She insists that buyers’ decisions about which house to buy are based more on complex issues such as the size and layout of a house, the neighborhood, the yard, the town, and the school system. You can’t gussy those up with staging. 

So what do you think of our great debate? You can flee – like our staffers – or you can jump in and let us know. Take our survey about staging and we’ll post the results for you in a couple of days.

"Dad!" Robbie, my four-year-old, was tugging hard on my coat. I bent over to listen. His blue eyes still have a lot of baby in them, and they locked onto mine. "Dad," he said, urgently and loudly over the noise of the jubilant crowd on Boston's Boylston Street. "I have to go to the bafroom."  

Not now, I groaned to myself. We had a prime viewing spot right at the finish line of the Boston Marathon. My brother, JT, was running. Any minute now, he would be crossing the blue-and-yellow line. His journey to the marathon had been a long and arduous one. I really wanted to be there to cheer for him.

"Yeah, Dad, I'm starving." Cade, my thirteen-year-old, always seems to be hungry now that he's a teenager. I glanced over at my wife, Diana. Maybe we had a few minutes to find a bathroom and grab some hot dogs for our three boys. Besides, my parents were stationed a block or so down the course, also on Boylston Street. They'd alert me with a text if they saw my brother nearing the finish. Diana smiled and nodded as if to say "What can you do?"

Ten minutes later, the boys were munching happily on hot dogs we'd gotten from a vendor on Exeter Street. We were hurrying back to the finish line when suddenly we heard a massive explosion. The street shook beneath our feet. We stopped for moment, confused. Then, a second explosion "It's a bomb!" I shouted to Diana, as we grabbed the boys and started running for cover.

My brother was only a mile away from completing the marathon when the cops diverted him - and thousands of other runners - into Kenmore Square, where they frantically tried to call or text loved ones they feared had been hurt or killed. My family was one of the fortunate ones. We were shaken, but safe. My parents were sitting directly across the street from the site of the second explosion. They were unharmed, but they witnessed the carnage, which has left them deeply distressed.

I can't stop replaying that afternoon in my head. I am sure the terrorists who planned the attack would have been disappointed that we stepped away. After all, we were the target - along with all the hundreds of other families and friends celebrating a race that brings out the very best of the human spirit: courage, endurance, hope.

Our near-miss mirrored the paths of so many others.  The terrorists want us to be believe we should be punished for our way of life and for our freedoms, but the angels hovering at the finish line who were there to guide and protect so many of us, defy all of that logic. There are those who were not as lucky and we pray for their recovery. Now our job is to get back to business.

Ways to help the Recovery

Donate to the official charity of The One Fund Boston, Inc. to help the people most affected by the tragic events that occurred in Boston on April 15, 2013.

or you can support the Red Cross with blood bank replenishment.

For More info about donating blood in your area please click here.

Can't donate for personal/medical reasons? Click here for alternative ways to help the Red Cross.

Early in the morning, picking up the paper in the driveway, I saw the water bottle perched on top of a fence post by the road. Condensation was beginning to freeze on the outside. I knew he was out there in the cold, racking up the miles, training for the Boston Marathon.

On Monday, my 37-year-old brother will fulfill one of his life's goals when he strides across the blue-and-yellow starting line in Hopkinton, MA, one of 27,000 runners. At 37, he has two other goals for the marathon. He wants to finish it- and enjoy it.

For almost a year, my fence post has served as a pit stop on his journey to Hopkinton, his water bottle a daily reminder of his determination. Not so long ago, when we three brothers would race, JT always came in last. He'd stagger in eventually, groaning in pain. He was out of shape and he consumed too much of the unhealthy stuff.

All that changed two years ago. He embraced health and fitness with a newfound discipline. I ran with him recently, but turned back home, tired and footsore, at mile three. He continued merrily down the road for another seven miles. After he completed two other marathons successfully - with times of 4:54 and 4:35 - JT's running club helped him secure a coveted slot in the world's most prestigious race.

We salute JT and all the runners who will pit their will and their endurance against the challenge of running 26.2 miles. Our family will join JT today at the Runner's Expo in Boston, where he'll pick up his bib number and race instructions. Tomorrow, we'll carbo-load a pasta dinner at Mom's. On Monday, we'll be cheering when he crosses the finish line.

The marathon brings tens of thousands of runners to Boston, and we're always delighted so many stop by our stores during the weekend. (Here's the tip-off: they're wearing the blue jackets with the yellow stripes, and they're as lean as greyhounds.)

So if you are running the marathon, why not keep on going? Our Chestnut Hill store is only 6.3 miles from the course. Hanover is another 33 miles - we'll have a water stop set up for you. And Plymouth is only another 24.3 miles. Please, folks, just don't ask me to pace you, but if JT hasn't expended all of his energy maybe he will lead the charge.

 "The contractor is going to be here in an hour," she said casually. "He's ripping out the kitchen island."

I stopped dead in my tracks. "Why?" I blurted, without thinking. "It's beautiful." She had a kitchen that would be the envy of any serious cook. Hers was an island just made for kids' afternoon snacks and homework or wine-and-pizza with friends. Distressed black with red undertones, it had a rich cherry wood top.

"Don't worry," she assured me. "We're going green. We're going to re-purpose the island as a work bench in the barn." She started detailing the master plan for the new kitchen to me, excited about the cabinetry and the new stainless-steel appliances that were on order. All I could think about were the paint brushes, wrenches and nails that would be strewn across that polished island top once it was dispatched to the barn.

Renovations are good for the economy, and hers was one of many signs that things are picking up after a four-year housing slump. In another home we visited this week, an expanded master suite had hardwood floors so vast and gleaming they would have made a great bowling alley for my three boys. This home owner realized they made the room too big and was ready to begin additional alterations to further complicate or correct the problem. 

As a furniture consignment guy, I get to see a lot of homes here in Boston and its suburbs. Rarely do the new - or newly done - mansions command my attention. In a way, some of them seem as cold and lifeless as mausoleums. What gets me is something that no contractor or architect in the world can give a home: warmth.

You can't draw warmth on a blueprint. Warmth comes from a home that tells the story of the lives lived within: the kids' art framed and hung in the family room like an Old Master, the embroidered pillow you made the winter of the big snowstorm, the tiny nicks on the legs of the breakfront, a reminder of the toy trucks that got rammed into them when your son was three. You can't buy warmth, but you can achieve it.

Visit one of our three showrooms this weekend. We have a lot of beautiful furniture, once loved, that came from my kind of homes. Let us help you build some warmth in your home so that you can live a good life in it.

"Memorial Day," the woman sighed. "That's the goal."

An experienced real estate agent, she is eager to list the house, a gracious colonial in a wealthy equestrian town. She knows some young family will love it. But the road to a sale has been rocky. The sellers? Her aging parents.

Dad recently suffered a stroke. His voice, once booming with authority, is weak. He was polite, but also seemed perplexed by the project they were undertaking. Mom understood the challenge, and she was overwhelmed. In a few short weeks, she has to shrink their lives to fit into a tiny condo.

All her life, Mom had been a collector of books, silver and figurines from their travels all over the world. She also inherited some valuable furniture from her parents and grandparents. Preserving these things was her way of keeping them a part of her life.

Their daughter understood the heartbreaking dilemma: how do you part with a lifetime of treasures when every one of them holds a precious memory? How - in eight weeks - do you sift through a household that sustained a marriage and a family for fifty years?

I toured the house. There were some well-maintained classic pieces that our customers will love. But the couple needed more help than that if they were to meet their deadline of Memorial Day. I made some recommendations to them which might prove useful to you.

First, hire a professional organizer. A skilled one will help you winnow through your possessions quickly, urging you to part with unneeded items while preserving pieces that have the most meaning.

Invite three reputable personal property auctioneers to estimate the value of your unique items or collectibles. They will help you determine what will sell at auction - and for how much. Choose one to handle that for you.

Then, check with me to consign your high-end furniture. At Furniture Consignment Gallery, your pieces will be priced appropriately and stylishly displayed in one of our three showrooms. Avoid the temptation of selling it yourself on Craigslist; it can be risky and time-consuming for downsizers.

Next, hold an estate sale to sell the dishes, the small appliances, the lawn mowers, and the trinkets. When the last buyer has meandered down the driveway with your old mop, call in Goodwill. Whatever doesn't go on its truck goes in the dumpster.

Sure, it's a lot to do, but things move swiftly once you've got a plan. Remember: Memorial Day is still eight weeks away. You can do it - and you've got help.

The High Point Furniture Market wrapped up its spring exposition this week. Basically, it’s a six-day party for the interior design industry. Some 80,000 flock to North Carolina for the event every April. Well, it’s a party – and a workout. High Point is the biggest home furnishings trade show in the world. Visitors need a map, a shuttle bus, sensible shoes and a lot of stamina to make their way around hundreds of showrooms full of furniture, rugs, lamps and accessories.

Diana was there, and she came home exhausted but full of insight about the latest trends. Here are her comments:  

This year, the theme is all about “lifestyle.” What does that mean? For one, furniture makers offered clean, crisp, well-organized displays that were so perfect they lulled you into a fantasy. It was like imagining yourself driving your convertible down with the top down on an oceanfront road on a sunny day. You’re living the dream – or at least you can within these displays!

All of it was geared to capture those rare moments when the kids are happy and healthy, and all of life is in perfect harmony. Finally, you don’t have to hold your breath anymore. You can exhale. Isn’t that we all want? We long for those precious, perfect moments to last forever.

Furniture manufacturers spend millions of dollars trying to figure out what you long for in your life. They pay consulting firms wads of cash to try to understand you and your buying habits, so they can help you feather your nest. And if they can’t exactly figure it out, they will dream up a theme.

But there’s a fatal flaw in this manufactured theme. That perfect lifestyle isn’t mine and it likely isn’t yours. My life revolves around three young boys. Yours may include messy teenagers or rambunctious grandchildren. High Point’s elegant mahogany library with the high ceiling and the rolling ladder wouldn’t work for us. My three-year-old would be clinging terrified to the top while his older brothers raced the ladder from one side of the room to the other, shrieking with hilarity. We’d all end up in the emergency room. Disaster!   

Ditto the glass-top dining tables with dove white slipper chairs. That $100-a-yard silk would be covered in peanut butter and jelly within a day. The glass would be smeared with milk. Crumbs would be ground into the $25,000 Aubusson.

  At High Point, the displays are exquisite. The pitch is enticing. Far from the chaos of a house with three growing boys, I’m buying every bit of it. The problem is, the trade show is selling a lifestyle that doesn’t exist for most of us. Maybe even all of us.  

The key to success is to design for the life you live right now – not your fantasy life. We’re practical and pragmatic New Englanders.  We want good jobs, a good education for our children, and communities with good values. We are thrifty and very resourceful. We know quality and we prefer it.

 At Furniture Consignment Gallery, you can design for the life that you live every day. Our showroom is full of furniture and accessories that fit our imperfect – but wonderful – lives.  And you can achieve the look that suits you and your family for less, which leaves more on the budget for the truly important things.