Furniture Consignment Gallery Blog

"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  In last week's blog, I killed off Queen Anne, declaring that once-popular furniture style now out-of-date.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.

"It's like having a baby." That's how my wife Diana described the opening of our third store last year. She nailed it with that metaphor. Opening a store means months of anticipation punctuated by bouts of intense anxiety. There are predictable checkpoints along the way - and a few unexpected surprises thrown in for good measure. And once the new addition is here, you can't imagine life without it.

This weekend marks the one-year anniversary of our showroom in Plymouth. Diana and I and our three boys cut the blue ribbon at our opening, surrounded by family, friends and staffers. Then, we turned the enterprise over to our hardworking and ambitious team.

How that team came together sometimes seems like a mystery. Denise knocked on the door when we were painting the vast, empty store. She walked in, grabbed a brush and never left. Donna brought a combustible energy and a great sense of design. Rebecca contributed her superb artistic skills, photographing every item for the website. Nick, Cory and Tevin, our movers, fill the showroom with furniture week after week - and help customers fit their treasures into their vehicles.

And, of course, there's Brad, showman extraordinaire. He moved from sunny Florida to snowy Massachusetts to pursue his lifelong dream of managing a furniture store - and to indulge in some sibling rivalry. His twin brother, Ron, manages our store in Hanover. Over the past year, Brad has created a team, a culture and a shopping experience as exciting as any in the furniture business.

Anniversary Sale Details:

• The Sale Starts Now and ends at 5PM on Sunday March 2, 2014.
• Customers can take 10% off the current price in any of our three showrooms.
• Items scheduled for a 10% markdown during the sale event are not eligible for further discounting.
• Final Markdown Items are not eligible for further discounting.
• Purchases from multiple showrooms can be bundled together into a single delivery for an extra fee.
• Our doors open at 10AM today. The phones are ready, staffers will be on hand and the stores are packed with beautiful pieces.

Come celebrate with us!

I'm a chair snob. I admit it and I have learned to live with it. My goal is to turn you into a chair snob, too. Because I've had it with chairs that bend and break like matchsticks.

Making furniture is a difficult business these days. Competitive pressures have driven many old-line American manufacturers out of business. The survivors are being driven into a corner. To compete, many have shifted manufacturing to Asia, where they are using cheap labor and cheap materials. The result, unfortunately, is a cheap chair.

In our educational series, we're going to show you how to get the best buy for your furniture dollar when it comes to chairs. Once you've learned the telltale signs of cheap manufacturing, you'll never be a furniture-showroom sucker again.

Tip-off #1: high pressure laminate, or HPL. This is created by taking layers of wood products or wood waste - like sawdust or chips - and molding them under high pressure into a sheet of "wood." Is it wood? It's sort of like the difference between real cheese and Velveeta. HPL is the Velveeta of furniture.

How can you tell the difference between solid wood and HPL? Look at the back of the chair - from the side. You'll notice that the wood appears layered. Strips - some of them speckled - appear pressed together. HPL isn't nearly as strong or durable as solid wood.

Tip-off #2: the hex screw. That's a simple screw with a hexagonal indentation. Inexpensive to make and quick to install, hex screws are often shipped with furniture that you assemble yourself. Or, they may be used in furniture that has been manufactured overseas but assembled in the U.S. The problem is, hex screws loosen very easily. Over time, the chair gets wobbly and prone to breaking.

Not all furniture manufacturers have abandoned quality. Some are still making chairs with solid wood and screws built to last, but they will be expensive. You'll pay up to $1,000 for a high-quality chair. One made from quality wood but assembled overseas will cost $300 to $500. An HP-and-hex screw chair may cost $100 to $250.

In our showrooms, we carry chairs in all price

"Daaaaad! We NEED a treeeeeee!"

This is the fourth time my five-year-old has reminded me of that grim chore. Oops, I mean fun family activity.

Christmas tree decorating has never been my thing. When I was growing up, my family had a fake tree. I hated that thing. So apparently did my father. My mother relieved him of tree duty as soon as we kids were old enough to understand and marvel at his muttered curses. So, as the oldest, it became my job to drag that accursed thing out of the attic and assemble it every December.

The tree was jammed in a box as soggy as day-old cornflakes. Stiff metal branches stuck out of the box, threatening to lance my rib cage or pierce an eyeball. After wrestling the box out of the attic, I had to figure out how to put the tree together so it vaguely resembled something in nature. That was a challenge. All the instructions were tattered and looked like, Tucker, our family dog had mistaken the tree diagram for the actual tree. Once, the tree resembled a large prickly green mushroom.

Next came the untangling of lights. That's when I paid for my sins of the previous year: snatching the lights off the tree, wadding them up haphazardly, and shoving them into the attic - along with the dissected tree - on New Year's Day. Over the summer, small attic demons wove the lights into massive snarls. I call it Satan's Christmas crochet. It's true. Ask any dad.

Imagine my relief when I was relieved of tree decorating duty this year at Furniture Consignment Gallery. Instead, we had a contest: staffers would compete to decorate a tree in each of our three stores. The results are stunning.

The theme of Hanover's tree is Boston Strong. Wrapped in a gauzy red and white garland, the tree boasts red, white and blue ornaments and a flamboyant topper crafted out of a dozen little American flags. Plymouth's theme is nautical. Staffers at that store hand-painted tiny anchors and ships as ornaments and a sturdy rope winds its way around the tree. Some 250 tiny nautical flags flutter from every branch. Proudly topping the tree is a miniature three-masted schooner.

Chestnut Hill chose to celebrate fine hand-made furniture for its theme. At the top of the tree is a color photo of a gorgeous mahogany breakfront filled with china. Wrapped in sparkling white lights, the tree is laden with photograph ornaments of exquisite chairs, bureaus, tables and desks.  

So I hereby declare the contest has begun and you, our customers, are the judges. Vote for your favorite tree here in our newsletter on our Facebook page - but I urge you to visit our stores in person to see their handiwork. There you'll see proof that our staff is creative, resourceful and full of holiday spirit.

And just between us, let's hope they don't ask me to take down the trees.

"Hey, kid!"

I heard a raspy voice holler across the showroom, and, though it had been nearly a decade, I recognized it right away. For those of you who aren't from Boston, everyone is a "kid"-- even a soon-to-be-40 business owner. You gotta love this town.

Out in the parking lot, I spotted his red truck and the memory came rushing back.

Years ago, in the midst of a move to a new home, he'd heaped a lot of furniture into the flat-bed and hauled it to our store in Hanover. Late in the day, after we'd closed up shop, he decided to bring one more piece: a massive pine hutch. 

By then, we'd gone home. Our doors were locked. So he unloaded the hutch behind the store. It was a warm and cloudless summer evening. He figured there was no harm in leaving his hutch outside for one night.

The following morning, he rumbled into the store. "Hey, kid," he asked. "What do you think of the hutch?"

I was puzzled. What hutch?  

"I left it by the back door last night," he said. We went outside. No hutch. By now, his face had registered emotions from skepticism to confusion to shock.  Solid pine, that hutch must have weighed a couple of hundred pounds.

After sleuthing out back, we turned up some clues:  tire tracks, boot prints, sawdust, and a bent blade from a Sawzall. The thief apparently had spotted the hutch behind the store, took off to get some tools and returned with a versatile cutting monster capable of, say, slicing through a Boeing 747. Adding insult to injury, he plugged his Sawzall into my outlet!

After hacking the hutch in two, the thief loaded it in his truck and took it home. The hutch was gone.

That was our first - and only - grand theft at FCG. Both of us were robbed. There was no money to be made for either of us on this piece. I felt badly, but he knew we shared the loss together. 

Despite the snafu with the hutch, my old customer had had a good experience with Furniture Consignment Gallery, and he was back to do business again - after we'd shared some laughs remembering the hutch-hacking.

Seeing him reminded me also that we are in a true partnership with our consignors. Most often we win together as items sell quickly and for good money. We split those sales with each other. But sometimes, things don't work out as planned and we share those pitfalls together too. I really like the fact that when you do business with us here at Furniture Consignment Gallery, we are in it together.

"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.

"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.