ISABEL MORTONfollows the tiger wives to auction
THERE’S NOTHING like a good house-contents auction to attract snoops like myself, who just can’t resist a peek at how others live. Now, it’s not quite as appealing as an impromptu and unannounced visit, given that the homeowners have had plenty of advance warning that an invasion is imminent and had time to present themselves in a good light, but nevertheless, it’s better than not getting past the threshold at all. Last weekend, along with 3,000 others, I took the opportunity to view 24 Fitzwilliam Square, the Dublin home of publisher Kevin Kelly and his wife Rose.
James Adams fine art auctioneers kindly facilitated the snoop in the absolute knowledge that, by opening the doors of the Kelly’s private home, they would attract considerably more viewers than had they displayed the items for sale in their St Stephen’s Green sales rooms.
Many of the chattering classes, myself included, having seen glossy magazine photographs of the elegantly restored Georgian townhouse, had been waiting for years for the opportunity to inspect the property and its contents. After all, the original publisher of Interiors(now the Condé Nast-owned World of Interiors) and our own Imageand Image Interiorsmagazines, was someone whose good taste and style many aspired to emulate.
Even the catalogue preface, by Rose Kelly, spoke of more than 40 years of picking up antiques in Dublin as well as on their travels in places like London, Paris, Monte Carlo and New York, which was enough to make people green with envy. Labelled as the “Kelly Collection”, the viewing attracted a smattering of newly impoverished tiger wives, for whom it provided an inexpensive form of weekend entertainment and a reminder of better times.
One of the latter, when on the receiving end of an over enthusiastic response to her query, backed off in fear, as if suddenly remembering the fact that she could no longer afford to indulge.
“Oh don’t worry, I was just curious, I’ll be away this week so I’ll miss the auction . . . ” she said, only to be told that she could leave a bid or bid online, at which point, she rapidly retreated and practically ran out of the house.
She needn’t have worried, as she wouldn’t have been the only one there who was window-shopping. “Forget it,” grumbled one reluctant viewer to his wife, who was enthusiastically prattling on about the delights of being able to perch before an open fire on a comfortable Edwardian club fender (with an estimate of between €2,000 and €4,000).
In one of the top-floor bedrooms, I overheard a group of viewers speculating and gossiping. Where were the Kellys going? Why were they selling everything? Why couldn’t they bring some of the smaller pieces with them if they were downsizing? Were they really downsizing or disappearing? Perhaps they were returning to London, where they once lived? Wasn’t everybody packing their bags and leaving town these days?
And, as the Kellys’ gracious home was on the sales market, there was more chat about the plummeting asking price. The elegantly restored and renovated Georgian townhouse has been sitting on the market for quite some time now, “years in fact,” as one viewer announced knowledgably.
“It won’t look quite the same without the lovely furnishings,” added another.
“It’s a shame really . . . ” a woman sighed, as she examined the empire bed on which she was now comfortably ensconced. It made around €3,000.
Descending the staircase from the grand piano nobile overlooking the leafy square, a smartly dressed middle-aged couple speculated over why the “Kelly Collection” didn’t go to auction in Christie’s in London as per items from Lyons Demesne, the Co Kildare country estate of the late Dr Tony Ryan (another magnificent period property in search of a new owner).
They debated the pros and cons of being able to view furniture and artefacts in situ, as opposed to being put on display in an auction room. “It becomes more than just selling your personal belongings; it’s more like selling your personal life,” the woman whispered. And indeed, it was exactly that: the sale of a certain lifestyle and the end of a certain era.
Driving home through the quiet Sunday streets, I felt for the Georgian terraced houses, whose fortunes, like those of our own nation, have risen and fallen with alarming rapidity.
As it turned out, the collection sold rather well. Some made serious purchases, such as lot 165 – a pair of Louis XVI gilt bronze lamps, circa 1780 which made €17,000 (€2,000 over their top estimate), and lot 56 – the George III mahogany terrestrial globe which sold for €16,000 (€1,000 over its top estimate).
The question is, where on the globe are these items bound for? The cycle of collecting antiques is, no doubt, starting again in some other part of the world.
* ISABEL MORTONis a property consultant
