Something's happening... Better come and check it out.

When I was 12 years old, my mom and grandmother opened their shop, Circa, in Montecito. I don't think they budgeted into their Parisian buying trip, the cost of an assistant, because I was tricked into that position. With the promise of all the Nutella crepes I could want and a new outfit from the Galleries Lafayette kids department, I agreed I would help. The fact that most girls my age were now at least in the juniors department was something I was not concerned with. I was more concerned with mapping out the quickest route from the hotel to crepe stand where the guy adds sugar directly on top of the Nutella. It's called a double whammy. If I hustled, I could get there in under 2 minutes, so this month long trip to Paris was looking bright.
I was wrong. I hated every minute of that trip, I mean as much as someone could hate a trip to Paris. My impression of the trip was we would spend a day or two at the Marche aux Puces, and the rest of the trip would be spent pleasing me for all my hard work and assistance. Instead, my mom, grandmother and I spend 5 days a week, for 4 weeks searching for deals on mirrors, couches, paintings and sometimes a Coca Cola.
The Marche aux Puces is the mecca of all antique markets. There are fifteen different districts inside this market. But don't let the districts fools you, there is no organization within any of them. You could be five booths deep in one district thinking to yourself, "ah great, I found all the secret good stuff!" then around the corner it's nothing but WW2 costume replicas and a 90 year old women selling her husband's ashes. Also, everyone is smoking and drinking red wine. And it's 8am.
In order to make sure you found what you didn't know you needed, you really do have to see it all, which really takes some time. I ended up spending my spring break, plus two weeks of 6th grade, following around my mom and grandmother as they ooed and awed over every bamboo mirror and Louis XV daybed they found. Then, after 45 minutes of touching, smelling and maybe even tasting the piece, they would make their final decision on whether or not it would go well in their store. There really wasn't any good answer to "Ok, so, should we buy this?" If it was a no, I was stuck being dragged around the Puces for at least another 3 hours that day until they found something better. And if it was a yes, I was then in charge of filling out the shipping and container information, because that's something they teach you in elementary school. But I did it correctly, so if this whole blogging thing doesn't work out, there may be a spot for me at border control.

During that month in Paris, in between filling out shipping and handling receipts and complaining about my pants being too tight, I would I would scrawl "I hate old furniture" over and over again on the pages of my Britney Spears diary. "Who's going to buy any of this old furniture, especially since the new Pottery Barn catalog is a week away from print!" I always looked forward to flipping through the teen section as soon as it arrived on the doorstep, and I knew that a new one shipped every 5 weeks and we were just about due for a new one. In 6th grade, I did not understand the importance of the antique world. If there were no antique bunk beds, then I wasn't interested. But then, I had an "a-ha" moment.
There's a place in Paris called the Conceiergerie. It's located on the Ile-Ste-Louis and it the former prison during the Reign of Terror in the 1700's. Even though the prison cells may have had a view of the Seine, something none of my studios ever did, it's not somewhere one wants to end up, as basically every prisoner here was killed. The place was also a little bit shady, these prisoners, that were set to be executed, had to pay up front for their stay, with prices differing depending on if they were interested in sleeping on a bed or on the floor. Room service was not an option though. The prison/hotel really turned a profit since sometimes the hopeful prisoners would pay for a 2 week stay, only to be beheaded 2 days later.

This was also the spot to be if you were a celebrity inmate. My favorite whore of Versailles, Madame du Barry was held here before her execution. But, most notably were inmate #2758 and #8591, also known as Marie Antoinette and Napoleon III. The building itself is a Gothic architectural delight with fluted arches, grand fireplaces and a eerie sense of what happened here years ago. It's also where I realized that I actually do love "old things."
The chapel of the prison is now a monument to Marie Antoinette and it holds the furniture that she used when she was imprisoned here. And it is beautiful. Something clicked. This furniture holds history and also maybe a ghost? I realized that spending all day at a flea market wasn't because my mom hated me, it was because she wanted me to be surrounded by pieces that hold value not because they're new, but because they're important to our history. Not to sound like I'm saying my history in particular, because I'm 200% midwestern and therefore have no real history, but the history of the world and how we are where we are today. Or maybe, she just really liked how pretty 18th century chaise lounges were. As do I.
I also would like to state that I don't love this place because I love prison, I just happened to fall in love with antiquaries in a prison. I don't think I would ever like to be in one (at least not while it's still operational). I don't love trading cigarettes for tampons. I don't love toilet wine. I would love a mandatory 30 minutes of outside time. And actually I do love cafeteria style restaurants, but I have a feeling the prison ones aren't like the Lemonade in West Hollywood.
The story really goes full circle when in 2014 my mom and David attended an auction where they bid on and won a piece of Napoleon's wallpaper from his time in prison from the place that made me fall in love with antiques. You can read about that here.
This place is "mine" in Paris. It's my special place and I'm gracious enough to open it up to the public. Every time I walked by it while living in Paris, I had to go in. Since I studied Art History, I had this neat card that let me get into basically everything for free for the sake of research. If I didn't, my unhealthy obsession would have gotten out of hand and I probably would have had to strip. My name would be Divine Pepper, since it's my favorite pizza at French Domino's and also has a nice sexy ring to it. Just this past trip, of course I had to stop in. When I presented my "Histoire de l'art" card to the guard, they chuckled and pointed me in the direction of the ticket agent. I attempted to argue that even though the card clearly had the year 2013 on it, that it was good forever, sort of like Bed, Bath and Beyond coupons. He asked me what Bed, Bath and Beyond was.

Anyways, over the years I watched my mom build up an enormous collection of antiques, some to keep, but mostly to sell. She really got the most joy from the fact that other people shared her passion and wanted to learn about the same things she wanted to learn about. But, the magical thing about my mom, was that she had a gift, as cheesy as it sounds, for design. Fuck, she wrote a whole blog about design. She couldn't get enough. When I was in elementary school, she started taking some college courses on furniture design and architecture. She also loved to mention that she was the star student of the class. And I love mentioning that "your mom goes to college" now applied to me personally.
I watched my mom go off on different design and antique endeavors over the years. She used to rent out a small booth at an antique market where she sold paisley throws and tortoise accessories. She owned a store where she curated the best antiques France had to offer. But, I believe her favorite was the Have Some Decorum Shop that she opened up online.
I watched my mom wake up at the crack of dawn to be the first person at the weekly flea market to get the best items, bargain with the dealers and reward herself with some street meat, all while paralyzed. She actually admitted that she was able to use her illness as a bargaining tool to get them to lower the prices via sympathy. Morals are no place for the street markets. You cannot be above elbowing someone in the face to get 1st dibs on that Chinoiserie box.
When we went to the Marche aux Puces this trip, I suddenly saw it with entirely different eyes. I was no longer searching for a chair to sit down, I was now searching for the perfect set of mid-century modern chairs to disguise my dining room table that's from Target. Walking from booth to booth, I changed my style about 100 times. One row I wanted an English countryside manner filled with linens and ironstone dishes. The next, a chic Malibu beach house to compliment these light wash wood chairs I found. A gilded gold mirror, that would go perfect above my Parisian apartment's fireplace!

As I tallied up the prices for all my separate identities, I realized, that a house that feels like home, is never one style, but an eclectic mix of all the best things. Mixing minimalism with maximalism, modern with antique. I found such great joy in designing these non existent rooms in my head, that the cold crisp air and people blowing cigarette smoke directly into my mouth, didn't really bother me anymore. I embraced! "Yes more merguez sausage! I'll take a glass of wine, just let me finish my breakfast! How much for that chandelier?!" I couldn't stop, I didn't care that none of this would fit in my suitcase, I'll swim back if I have to!
Then, as my hand was gliding over a bronze ex-voto, I realized why my mom loved her Have Some Decorum Shop so fucking much. She was able to place her favorite pieces in her favorite peoples home. Homes that would appreciate the value of antiques. The importance of mixing and matching. And recognize style.
So, I decided, I'm ready to take over what she started. I would like to announce that the Have Some Decorum Shop is officially back! Just like the McRib! I have a plethora of Parisian antiques purchased by my mom and were intended for the shop, but unfortunately the shop was cut a little shorter than she expected. I also will be adding in my own finds from my own travels. She always spoke about her worry of not leaving a legacy for me to follow, but I think I've found it. If I have even the slightest bit of talent and eye that she had for finding gems among rubble, then I think y'all will be pretty pleased with the selection. So, this one's for you mom!

The Have Some Decorum Shop will be Open Wednesday March 6th, that's tomorrow y'all!!
You can sign up at havedecorum.com for a discount code for the store as well as updates about new items. Then, be on the lookout for the official opening announcement tomorrow. But for now, here's a sneak peak of a few things that are for sale tomorrow...

Some of the valuable lessons my mom taught me were to always look people in the eye when speaking or listening, never get in a strangers car, if you have to question if you're doing the right thing it's probably the wrong thing and for the love of God know the difference between good and bad blue and white chinoiserie. I was able to learn from the master herself and can now accurately spot a "bad" blue and white from a mile away. They usually are found in hotels that describe their decor as Shabby Chic and the lower aisle at any Tuesday Morning. While the half off price tag is tempting, it is not worth it. I learned the hard way when one year I bought my mom what I thought was a great find, only to be sat down and forced to watch her power point presentation about why I was wrong.
In the words of my mom, here are her rules for buying the correct pieces:
"Look for a warm glaze. You don't want a crisp glaze. Remember, these peieces are supposed to look hundreds and hundreds of years old. Look for blues that seem to flow. Again, nothing crisp. Look for a little dirty. Yes, you want a little dirt. Around the rim and on the bottom. Trust me. Look for ancienet Chinese scenes. Cherry blossoms, Phoenix birds, cranes, Chinese scholars, pagodas, chrysanthemums, Koi fish, landscape scenes and even dragons and warriors, but easy on the warriors. I would skip the Foo dogs. Pairs are golden. Look for a loose painting. You don't want anything to look tight. You want it to look hand-painted, not mass manufactured. And look for a warm cobalt blue."
Don't worry, you don't need to memorize all these, because I already did. You can find her selection of blue and white in the shop, and yes, they are all "good."

A black chinoiserie box might be best detail to add to any room, possibly ever. But, since you're reading this blog, you probably already know that. There wasn't a table in any of the houses my mom and I moved in and out of, that didn't have at least one black laquered chinoiserie box in each room. These are items to create a collection of. I have mine scattered around my apartment, in the kitchen, the bathroom, really any room that you want to look nice for either yourself or others. They're both beautiful and functional, my personal collection holds everything from makeup brushes to gummy bears. The best part about these boxes are the little secrets they can hold. Sure, there's were probably better secrets held in these boxes back when it may or may not of been on Napoleon III's bedside table. But, now, they can hold all your essentials to get through a day.

Some of my other favorite pieces are what I'm going to call the Gold Group. It's good gold though, not tacky, nothing you would find in Adrienne Maloof's house. These delicate yet heavy pieces really add something to a room. I don't know what it is though. I just know that my coffee table set up didn't look complete until I had an 18th century ex-voto topping it off. I'm a sucker for crosses and daggers and sword and thorns. I wish my wardrobe consisted solely of Chrome Hearts. But, until that happens, I'm filling my home with Gothic cathedral remnants. My mom kept on her bedside table this tiny gold heart that had few words written in Gothic script. She found them at the Marche aux Puces many years ago and bought 20 of them. She handed them out to her favorite people and kept a few. A few years later, she discovered that these little hearts she had scattered throughout our house, were actually from the walls of Parisian churches. Ding ding ding. Not only were they from Parisian churches, but they were particularly from this one special church in the 1st arrondisment of Paris. This church, like my prison, is hers.

If there are any pieces that you already have picked out a spot for on your coffee table, feel free to email me at havesomedecorum@gmail.com and something can be arranged.