In Which You Can’t Chose Your Relatives!


WP_20140119_011About five o’clock yesterday afternoon, mid-tennis lesson, my ex-neighbours and antiques friends sent me a message, inviting me to view their new house, and promising to keep me there until I’d eaten dinner.  Not wanting to turn down a French dinner invitation, by seven I was hammering on their door, my car cleverly already pointing downhill on their narrow road in a homeward direction, thus avoiding any awkward manoevres a wine glass or two later on.

Their house, which i’d seen in a very shabby state of distress a week or so before the removal date was inevitably now a picture of perfection. Antiques husband had just arrived back from the coast with Turbot fresh from the fisherman’s market on the quay and Antiques wife was busy stirring crème fraiche into finely sliced leeks. Cooling on the counter was a freshly baked Tarte Tatin.

Somewhere between the first glass of Champagne and the Tarte Tatin, Antiques husband asked me if I wanted to see his latest purchase and we all trooped into the Salon to view an unframed portrait of very beautiful woman from the early 19th century sitting in her fine blue gown against a deep almost black background. Alongside, cheek to jowel, a multitude of other protraits, all gazing loftily at us from out of their frames.

Having, with a certain level of irony, remarked on the striking family resemblance, the colour of eyes, the angle of the nose and so on, I asked him where he’d found her, and only when he replied ‘The Zenith’ of course, did I realise how close I’d come to missing the most beautiful fair of the Antiques calendar – The Rouen Puces. We laughed about his new addition to the family whilst Antiques husband scrabbled in his wallet and handed me an unused ticked for the final day at the brocante.

So it was that today found me wandering the five halls of antiques and bric à brac and wishing I had a tidy sum of money burning a hole in my pocket.

WP_20140119_019The problem with the ‘Puces’ is that invariably, within about five minutes, it clearly becomes necessary to move house to one with twice as many rooms and several ‘dependances’ or renovate-able outbuildings. Only moments later one is sighing about the misfortune and hardship suffered since the ancestors hadn’t left an enormous country ‘pile’ to inherit. The bearded gentleman above certainly looks a kindly and benevolent fellow, and I considered adopting him and taking him home with me – but first I made a tour of the halls.

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WP_20140119_006I rather liked the detail trim on these Louis XVI chairs,

WP_20140119_007and the paint effects on these pieces of furniture.

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WP_20140119_005There seemed to be more painted furniture this year than last, and in my mind’s eye I had already placed several pieces in my new baronial home!

WP_20140119_020This rather wonderful dresser was clearly essential for my new vast servants kitchen, though since I liked the display of old labelled pharmacy jars on the shelves within, I decided I would need a second closed dresser in which to store the more every-day items.

WP_20140119_002Clearly things were getting ahead of themselves, so I decided to find a more parsimonious ancestor to encourage a bit of frugality and restraint. I felt that he would have been a little more eclectic and inclined to live off the land.

WP_20140119_014But it was hard not to dream, and not long afterwards, my illusions to grandure had once more returned, and I found myself thinking of beds and armoirs, of which there were several to choose from.

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This bed complete with it’s very own ancestor!

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A Louis XV style bureau..

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and this lovely banquette.WP_20140119_021But firmly setting aside all visions of a Louis XV boudoir, and under by the firm eye of this imposing gentleman, I settled to the task in hand ..

WP_20140119_003..to find a small French chair for my rather more modest bedroom. And after several minutes of hard bargaining the stall holder was carrying a lovely battered Louis XV chair to my car, whilst I took one final glance around at the remaining portraits.WP_20140119_001

But this glamorous woman was no match for the outstanding beauty of Antiques Husband’s ‘arriere grande maman’, so I turned my back on her musing to myself that..

While you can’t choose your relatives, you can at least these days select your ancesters!

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5 comments on “In Which You Can’t Chose Your Relatives!

  1. nessafrance says:

    I would have loved that. I adore browsing around antiques shops, although we don’t have many in our immediate area. There are a few antiques fairs in the summer but they don’t have anything like the range they obviously had at the Rouen version. Lucky you! However, I would have to keep my wallet firmly shut. We’ve no room for more.

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  2. Willow02 says:

    Oh my! How I would dream and imagine in a place like that………..
    Tis strikingly very French – NZ sadly doesn’t really have that old, historical feel in terms of architecture or furniture. I’m amazed you were so restrained Miranda but I expect things were very expensive!

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  3. Alpine Mummy says:

    I love antiques “shopping” (I rarely buy anything), but do find it depressing and inspiring in equal measure. Depressing, as I just have no room for it all – inspiring, as I still tell myself that one day I will! (Alpine Papa has banned me from visiting antiques fairs now – I don’t think he can cope with the inevitable mood swings…)

    Love your new chair! And your brilliant parking technique (great foresight)!

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    • The parking was a master-stroke, I have to say. Usually I rely on ‘husband à l’etranger, but now he’s in Canada, it is proving a little difficult, and my friends road is so steep that I have severe concern that my car (which is tall and narrow) will somehow do a backflip if I try any form of manoevre!
      I detest any form of shopping except antiques shopping. Clothes shopping makes me cross. But i do worry that the traders at the antiques fair will rip me off and keep promising to make myself an antiques expert…in all the free time I have. Ha ha!

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