citinotes
The collector
In Paris, the capital of refined taste, the observing visitor will notice the locals’s love for the beauty of an object -whether it’s a piece of furniture, an old book, or a simple knick-knack. This “cult of the object” may account for the existence of yet another Parisian archetype: the collector. The ceaseless flourishing of the flea markets bears witness to it. The Marché aux Puces is the undisputed king of the flea markets in Paris, one of the biggest ones in Europe, spanning a property of 17 acres (70.000 m2) at the northern gate of Paris. It is a real Aladdin’s cave of 2000 merchants selling a variety of collector’s items: from travel trunks and art-deco vanity cases to ethnic costumes, music instruments, rare records, furniture, home deco items, vintage posters, and more.
The city center, too, brims with flea markets, ambulant or fixed, seasonal or weekly, generic or specialized… there is always something to fit everyone’s taste. Wealthier collectors can benefit from numerous antique shops and prestigious art galleries, most of them gathered in the art-friendly 6th, 8th and 4th arrondissements (districts) of Paris. Over the past decade, there is a rapidly growing market of bric-a-brac stores selling a selection of second-hand pieces of furniture online, as well as decoration evaluations by experts.
As a person who lived on the same streets walked by Anatole France and many other Parisians, I can safely argue that the daily contact with nearby museums, art stores and galleries changed my perception of the world; it opened new horizons of knowledge and shaped my taste. Without realizing it, little by little, I caught the virus of the collector by adopting the habit of “hunting” old or rare books in art history and design. It seems hard to resist this trend in a city that has developped this cult of the object for many centuries now; numerous are the travel notes that describe this Parisian obsession for unearthing hidden treasures and collecting them.
The French writer Anatole France (1865-1924) was born and raised in Saint-Germain-des-Prés, a neighborhood packed with antiquaries and art galleries; in the extract below, he rightly ponders over the influence their window displays exert on a young person’s vision of beauty. It is only natural that the existence of these art troves can become a vehicle for many Parisians to develop a particular interest in the history of cultures; and a good reason to forge a taste for the classic, the old or the rare.
Léo Larguier (1878-1950), French author and resident of Saint-Germain-des-Prés dresses a remarkably detailed portrait of a Parisian collector in the 1930s: Uncle Pons, the hero of his book, has an irresistible drive to collect, a habit that slowly turned him into an outsider, a person completely out of tune with his entourage. Uncle Pons is far more comfortable with an old picture of a lady he would find in a flea market than with the real person portrayed. He would rather the smell the pale pages of the same old newspaper, flip through the same stories time and again than buying a new one. Larguier’s descriptions of Pons’ chaotic flat, turned into a museum to live in, are simply delightful.
Citinotes
chapter 1
Curious testimonies of the past
“It seems implausible to me”, says Anatole France, “that one can possess a spirit akin to others if brought up on along the riverbanks of Paris, opposite the Louvre and the Tuileries, near the Palais-Mazarin, in view of the glorious Seine river meandering amidst the towers, turrets and spires of Old Paris. From rue Guénégaud to rue du Bac, the shops of bookstores, antique dealers and print merchants generously display the most exquisite forms of art and curious relics of the past.”
“With its peculiar grace and whimsical assortment, each showcase serves as a seduction for the eyes and spirit. The discerning passerby always departs with some new insight, much like a bird carrying a straw for its nest,” says Anatole France.
The 6th “arrondissement” (i.e. district) is the true haven of a tribe gradually fading away, unimaginable on avenues like Grande-Armée, boulevards like Rochechouart, or streets like La Fayette.
We refer to collectors of books, old paintings and trinkets.
A connoisseur of small boutiques can only live between the Luxembourg gardens and the Seine. Saint-Germain-des-Prés […] is the district where five out of ten ground floors are occupied by antique dealers, bookbinders, and “bouquinistes” (i.e. secondhand booksellers).
Léo Larguier,
Saint-Germain-des-Prés mon village, Paris Plon, 1938.
chapter 2
Uncle Pons, a sweet weirdo
Uncle Pons resides here. A quiet tenant, he doesn’t burden his concierge. She deems him eccentric, a shy and gentle maniac, as she witness him return every evening with a loosely tied package. […]
He exclusively makes purchases from small merchants and modest sales. In his meticulous pursuits, he deflects undue trends, curates series that will outlast him, and eventually possesses neglected yet exquisite jewelry.
With the instinct of wild street dogs tracking poachers, he discerns where the lone hare in the entire region hides. He dictates the terms of engagement; he is not one to buy a pre-assembled collection!
Should you meet him in the street and inquire about the parcel tucked under his arm in an old newspaper, he will blush even behind his ears. A decade later, you wouldn’t secure it for a thousand francs, a purchase he made for a mere hundred pennies! Magazine editors humbly request to photograph his bindings with small emblems and coats of arms -this is a classic character.
One envisions him in an antiquarian apartment overlooking a provincial street like rue Jacob or rue de Verneuil. It’s been years since he could hang anything on his walls; unframed canvases accumulate in every corner, drawers overflow with trinkets, and wallets teem with sketches and prints. Yet, every evening, he returns with a new acquisition. Whatever might stir the people of his generation appears inconsequential to Uncle Pons. He seeks only what others lack.
Léo Larguier,
Saint-Germain-des-Prés mon village, Paris Plon, 1938.
Serge Gainsbourg’s apartment, © Tony Frank, source Milk Decoration.
Gainsbourg loved to display his collections on tables or sofas. © Tony Frank, source Milk Decoration.
Serge Gainsbourg in his residence, rue de Verneuil. Apart from being a talented composer, Gainsbourg was also a fervent art collector. © Tony Frank, source Vogue France.
chapter 3
Aladdin’s cave
A woman in his house? He’d raise his arms in astonishment. Where would she stay? Good Lord, what would he do with her? There is no space for a woman in this house. He only has one armchair, always in the same spot, by the fireplace corner. The rest of the seats, except that one, serve as storage for pictures, frames, and books. In his antique wardrobe, he’s allocated a mere two shelves for his laundry; the remainder is a trove of knick-knacks.
His kitchen resembles the storage room of a second-hand trader. Though he often contemplates organizing the chaos, he quickly realizes it’s an impossible feat. It would require the strength of a Hercules. Every night, before sleeping, he must clear his bed of cardboard, canvases, carved wood and a precarious stack of rare books.
His coat and hat may not be the latest fashion, but he cares little, preferring a gouache to a tie. In his anteroom, an old urn overflows with canes like those owned by neither Brummel, nor any other famous dandy. Some canes boast aventurine and lazulite knobs, vermeil capsules, black silver star enamel balls, and the distinctive C-type handles. Blond tortoiseshell canes are signed Verdier. He leaves them in the urn, and even when the weather is fair, taking his umbrella instead.
Léo Larguier,
Saint-Germain-des-Prés mon village, Paris Plon, 1938.
At the “Marché aux Puces”, one of the biggest flea markets in Europe, one can find the joy of a treasure hunter.
Paris for collectors
Explore the best Parisian flea markets, antiquaries, old book shops, and second-hand boutiques where one can find real vintage gems.
