A Boy, His Wagon, and Dodging the Scales of Justice

By Anthony Cavo

My lifelong love of antiques began on a trip to Milford, Pa., at the age of 6 in a barn that doubled as an antique shop. It was dark and, even on that hot summer day, cool. The only available light fought its way through the dust-speckled panes of glass in the small windows. Broken or missing panes provided the only breeze whose eddies of dust-laden cobwebs undulated like tentacles on an air-born jellyfish. With the exception of the narrow, winding paths, every square foot from the rafters to the walls was filled with strange, old things. It was heaven, a junkman’s dream—I’d found paradise.

This box, originally meant to ship photographic plates, was discovered full of
19th-century photographs, including Daguerreotypes, Ambrotypes, ferrotypes, Cartes de
Visite and cabinet cards. An impressionable would-be collector was hooked.

Victorian furniture in torn black material leaked horsehair stuffing. Oil lamps, coffee grinders, crocks, bottles, marble-top furniture, clocks, engravings, pier mirrors, candlesticks, and all types of household goods covered the walls, posts, and wide floorboards; the horse stalls were piled with chairs. An unfortunate owl, stuffed sometime during the 19th century, stared dolefully down from the rafters, his wide eyes pleading, “Please take me home.” I took him home. Next, I encountered a small wood crate stamped “From G. Cramer Dry Plate Co. St. Louis, MO.” The box originally meant to ship photographic plates, was full of 19th-century photographs that included Daguerreotypes, Ambrotypes, ferrotypes, Cartes de Visite, and cabinet cards. The owl, photographs, and a gold-painted metal elephant with ivory tusks found a new home that day when they left with me on another leg of their previously unrecorded travels. I still have the elephant and the photographs; as you will learn, the owl was bartered to improve the expanding needs of my newfound business.

Some of the treasures found by our author at an early age, a Daguerreotype of
Miss Munroe, age 16, c. 1852, and a ferrotype of a man wearing a top hat from the late 1850s.

It wasn’t long after these first purchases that I began trawling the streets of my neighborhood, collecting antiques and discards of all types. A curb filled with antiques was not an unusual sight in those days. When someone moved or died many of their possessions would end up on the curb and then in our toolshed or basement. While walking to school, I would find mirrors, chairs, paintings, stools, pedestals, statues, and items promising potential profits. I had a network of safe houses along my route, houses owned by family, friends, and acquaintances. I would stash my finds in their bushes, on their porches, in their yards, or even in their garages and collect them after school. My mother routinely received phone calls from the owners of these properties. “I think your kid was here today. I just found a rocking chair in my rhododendrons.”

These items eventually found their way to my house and then to the flea market. On Saturday, my parents would load the interior and roof of the family station wagon with their antiques and my “junk,” and we’d head for the 26th Street Flea Market in Manhattan, where we would hawk our wares.

I grew up in New York City during the 1960s when street peddlers still existed. I well remember my aunt’s vegetable man with his horse and cart at the corner of Court and Nelson Streets in Brooklyn. They would load their cart under the highway on New Utrecht Avenue and ply their trade throughout Brooklyn.

Street vendors conducted all types of business in our neighborhood. There was the Fuller Brush Man, a scissor sharpener, an umbrella repairman, the ragman, a paper collector, and even an iceman for those old timers who still had an icebox. They all had pushcarts in shapes tailored to the requirements of their trade, and each of them rang a bell to let you know they were passing. My favorite was the ragman; he had the largest of all the carts in which he collected old clothing – the entire operation held a strange fascination for me. He was a WWII vet with a prosthetic leg and a pronounced limp. Despite the pain he obviously experienced, he pushed a large wooden cart with two large wheels at the back and a smaller wheel at the front. One day, as I watched him pass, it dawned on me that I needed a cart to accommodate my burgeoning business, and I knew just where to get it.

My teenage cousin had a red Radio Flyer wagon that he had long outgrown. He was an only child and a bit spoiled and not one to easily part with something he owned – money would not do the trick. He was a fan of vintage movies, the macabre and the bizarre. I knew my newly acquired stuffed owl would be just the thing to put wheels on my business—and I was right. He agreed to trade the wagon for the owl and a stuffed pheasant I adopted from a church flea market. Any qualms I had about trading my feathered friends were assuaged by the rationale that I had saved them from neglect and placed them in a loving home in suburban New Jersey (OK, so maybe I didn’t do them such a favor). The wheels stepped up my collecting considerably and, with it, my weekend profits.

Smitten at an early age, author Anthony Cavo has amassed an enormous catalog
of antique photography, including hundreds of pictures of people and their dogs.
Those images form the foundation of his exceptionally warm, informative, and delightful book,
Love Immortal: Antique Photographs and Stories of Dogs and Their People.

One day, as I trawled the neighborhood, I found what my mother later identified as a Stickley couch. It was long, but I managed to lift one end while a friend slid my wagon beneath. It took a few minutes to settle the piece across the small wagon, but I did. The couch was too wide to transport on the sidewalk, so I had to pull it home through the streets with a friend on each end to maintain balance. This simple move became a parade of beeping cars and an entourage of neighborhood kids who followed on foot and on bicycles. I’d collected quite a crowd of friends, neighbors, and angry motorists by the time I turned up my street. I can still see my mom standing on the stoop, shaking her head.

My parents had long since developed a trust in my instincts; in this case, their indulgence paid off. While examining the piece, I found a “Stickley” label. The name meant nothing to me, but my mom knew what it was. Within a day, the piece was sold to an antique dealer who had a store named “Goodies Galore.” She paid $15 or about $143 today. I watched as the new owners strapped it to the roof of their truck; my heart was broken, but my pockets were full.

On Saturday mornings, I would start out early with my red wagon on a quest for riches. I’d walk miles, often having to return home to unload my finds. One Saturday, I found my way downtown, which seldom had anything good. The trash consisted of the typical refuse from stores and usually nothing with the resale value, but that day, I struck it rich.

Our author ‘found’ and sold five grocery scales for a tidy sum, keeping mum about his good fortune.

On a side street, around the corner from the Associated Market, lined up right there on the curb, were five grocery scales that hung from the ceiling with a dial and swinging metal basket. They weren’t antique, but my entrepreneurial sense told me they were salable, so I packed them onto my little red wagon and hit the stores. I wasn’t sure what they were worth, but when the man in the fish market offered me $8 for two scales, I was in full vending mode.

Eight dollars may not sound like a great deal of money until you consider today’s equivalent to eight 1963 dollars is about $82 2024 dollars. The fish man had established the price, and I offered the remaining three scales at $4 apiece to the butcher, the man at the vegetable stand, and even one to the manager of the A&P; they each bought one. My wagon was empty, but my pockets were full. I was a rich 8-year-old; I had today’s equivalent of $200 in my pocket. I returned home and stashed my loot, intending to buy something special for my parents at the flea market the following weekend.

Early the next day, I walked to Sach’s Pharmacy with my mom. The pharmacist knew everyone in the neighborhood and knew all the latest news.

“This neighborhood is getting worse by the day,” he said.

“What happened now?” my mother asked, concerned.

“Yesterday, the Associated Market washed all their scales and put them out on the curb to dry in the sun and when they went back to get them, they were gone; stolen.”

My mother kind of gasped. “That’s terrible. Who would do something like that?” Little did she know she had only to look a bit to the right and down to find the answer. “Why would anyone take scales?”

“I don’t know, but it seems like nothing is safe anymore. The police were in here asking me if I saw anything. I hope they catch those thieves and send them to prison.”

My mom agreed.

I felt faint, literally. I wanted to sit right down on the floor in front of the counter and vomit. My eyes focused on a pack of “Choward’s Violet” candy. I kept reading the same two words and repeating them in my head: “Choward’s Violet, Choward’s Violet, Choward’s Violet.”

Jail? My stomach flipped, flopped, and dropped down so far I was sure it would fall out onto the floor if I took off my shoes. I was a criminal, and the police were looking for me. I couldn’t go to jail. I’d miss school. I’d miss the flea market on Saturday. I’d miss “Gilligan’s Island” and “The Munsters” on TV. I kept mum. Snitches in New York usually got hurt, and I wasn’t about to snitch—even if it was on myself.

I worried for weeks. My crime was so bad I couldn’t even admit it in the dark confessional on each of three consecutive Fridays at church. In fact, I never did confess, but now it’s time to come clean. “Confession,” they say, “is good for the soul,” and now apparently safe since the statute of limitations has expired.

In retrospect, I find it difficult to believe the vendors who purchased these scales did not question such a deal from an 8-year-old kid. I also wonder why, later, when they heard about the theft, as they certainly did, none of them returned the scales or turned me in—they, too, kept mum. Evidently, they had no qualms about buying off the truck, or in this case, the wagon. Today, no doubt, I would have been on CCTV or someone’s Ring, and probably YouTube. I would probably have been arrested even before I unloaded the last scale at the A&P, which was directly across the street from the Associated Market—their main competition.

I’m not sure what became of my little red wagon, but I often wish I still had it. Today I have a car that holds a ton of stuff, but that little red wagon had the heart of a Mack truck and it never let me down.

Dr. Anthony Cavo is a certified appraiser of art and antiques and a contributing editor to Kovels Antique Trader. Cavo is also the author of Love Immortal: Antique Photographs and Stories of Dogs and Their People.

It’s Magic!

An extremely rare, signed, self-published book by famed illusion builder Guy Jarrett sold for $60,000 to headline the early spring “Houdiana and Magic Memorabilia Event” at Potter & Potter Auctions. The 370-lot event in April realized $629,000.

The top lot, Guy Jarrett’s (1881 – 1972) “Jarrett. Magic and Stage Craft Technical,” was self-published in 1936. This example was both a presentation copy and the first bound copy. It was signed by Jarret “Guy Jarrett/Dec. 4th/’36” to Morris Blum. The book had a presale estimate of $6,000-$9,000.

Jarrett was an illusion builder who constructed illusions for such famous magicians as T. Nelson Downs and Howard Thurston, leading Broadway shows, sideshows, and the Chicago World’s Fairs.

Harry Houdini’s “The Unmasking of Robert-Houdin” sold for $33,600. This presentation copy, a first-edition book, was published in New York by The Publisher’s Printing Co. in 1908.
A huge, circa 1924, linen-backed, eight-sheet lithograph poster of “Houdini, Buried Alive!” sold for $22,000 against a high estimate of $12,000. The poster was printed in Cleveland by Otis Litho and measured 109 in. by 89 in. It advertised a stunt that Houdini would never perform—his escape from a coffin buried under mounds of heavy earth.

Photo courtesy Potter & Potter Auctions

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Survey Says: Art Deco is Hot

Art Deco cabinet. Photo: Getty Images

Every year, the research staff at Asheford Institute of Antiques surveys its community of more than 2,470 current students and past graduates who are actively employed or working within the antiques, collectibles, and vintage marketplaces to gauge current market trends in the United States and Canada.

The 2023 Decorative Arts Trends survey results, categorized by the age groups of the “proprietor” respondents (defined as respondents operating their own antiques and vintage or estate sale/appraisal businesses, including online concerns), provide an inside look at the Top 10 item/genre/period listings, and their relative popularity with consumers.

Art Deco continues to intrigue younger age groups (20-40), while mid-century modern remains a stalwart in the field across all three categories, according to the survey. For older respondents, Chinese antiques highlight interests.

The survey results are as follows:

Age Grouping: 20 – 40
1. Art Deco
2. Mid-Century Modern
3. Textiles
4. Memphis Design Style (MDS)
5. Space Collectibles
6. Victorian – Early, Mid & Late
7. Early Americana/Canadiana
8. Kitchen & Barware
9. Ornate Lighting
10. Louis XVI

Age Grouping: 40-60
1. Automobilia & Petrolina
2. Mid-Century Modern
3. Vintage Jewelry
4. Art Deco
5. Victorian – Early, Mid & Late
6. Textiles
7. Art Nouveau
8. Country Club Chic
9. Paintings/Sculptures
10. Juke Box Décor

Age Grouping: 60-80
1. Chinese Antiques
2. Mid-Century Modern
3. Victorian – Early, Mid & Late
4. Georgian (Style) Furniture
5. Art Deco
6. Architectural Antiques
7. Victorian Paintings
8. Folk Art
9. Vinyl Records (Stereos)
10. Glass

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Memorial Day History is Rooted in Post-Civil War Years

This year, Memorial Day is May 27. We observe the holiday with parades, flags flying, and outdoor parties on the last Monday in May, but it wasn’t always this way. And what better way to honor memories than to look to the past?

The first formal declaration for a day for Americans to honor the memories of soldiers who lost their lives in war came in 1868. Retired Major General Jonathan Logan, then the commander in chief of the Grand Army of the Republic (GAR), designated “the 30th day of May, 1868” for decorating the graves of Civil War casualties “whose bodies now lie in almost every city, village, and hamlet churchyard in the land.” Regional observations had been held previously. In 1866, a year after the Civil War came to an end, shops in Waterloo, N.Y., closed on May 5 to honor the soldiers killed in the war and put flowers on their graves. Southern women decorated soldiers’ graves in Richmond, Va., on May 30, 1866.

Brundage Patriotic Decoration Day Postcard.
Girl Hugs Civil War Veteran. On eBay – $12.00

By the end of the 1800s, every state observed Decoration Day, as it was called then, although the name Memorial Day was coming into fashion. The day of remembrance and respect prompted the production of a variety of themed postcards, often featuring vivid illustrations. Many early cards depicted scenes like Civil War remembrances, visits to gravesites, and symbols of freedom.

“Their Memory Shines Like a Radiant Star” postcard. On eBay – $18.00

Notably, some of these postcards showcase the work of Ellen Clapsaddle, a popular artist known for her charming illustrations. Her designs captured the essence of Memorial Day – a blend of reverence, remembrance, and hope.

This Ellen Clapsaddle Civil War “Grand Army of the Republic” postcard was sold on eBay in May 2024 for $9.99.

Memorial Day cards are some of the most evocative types of vintage ephemera one can collect. Each is a work of art featuring imagery that elicits feelings of patriotism and nostalgia. Many of these cards can be found reasonably priced—from auction lots to eBay singles. Often, these cards are collected thematically by conflict (Civil War, WWI), artist, or publisher.

Part of an auction lot – courtesy Matthew Bullock Auctions

Memorial Day became a federal holiday in 1971 and has been observed on the last Monday in May ever since.

By Fairy Hands, Their Knell is Rung. By Forms Unseen, Their Dirge is Sung. 
Sold on eBay May 2024 – $40.00

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Gold pocket watch recovered from wealthy deceased Titanic passenger sells for record $1.5 million.

The sinking of the Titanic after striking an iceberg on its maiden voyage in 1912 remains one of the most famous tragedies of the 20th century. More than 100 years later, it still captivates Titanic historical societies in the United States and Britain, as well as auctions dedicated entirely to Titanic memorabilia. A pocket watch belonging to American business magnate John Jacob Astor IV, recovered from his body after the disaster, sold recently for £1.175 million, or about $1.5 million, the highest price paid for a piece of Titanic memorabilia, at Henry Aldridge & Son Ltd. in Wiltshire, England.

The record-breaking item, a 17-jewel Waltham pocket watch, features Astor’s initials, JJA, engraved on the 14-karat gold case. Astor, believed to be the richest person aboard the star-crossed Titanic, was the great-grandson of John Jacob Astor, who made a fortune in fur trading, bought land in Manhattan, and became the first multi-millionaire in the U.S. John Jacob Astor IV kept up his family’s work in real estate, with the Waldorf-Astoria Hotel as possibly his most famous accomplishment.

Astor was 47 when he married 18-year-old socialite Madeleine Talmage Force in 1911. The marriage was met with shock and disapproval: Astor’s first wife, Ava, had divorced him for adultery, and his new bride was younger than Astor’s son. To escape the scandal, the newlyweds went for an extended honeymoon in Europe and Egypt. When Madeleine discovered she was pregnant, they decided to return home—in a luxury suite on the Titanic.

When the ship hit the iceberg, Astor initially thought there wasn’t any danger. He soon realized he was wrong, and when the evacuation started, he helped Madeleine into a lifeboat and asked if he could join her. He was told the women and children had to be evacuated first. Madeleine survived, but Astor, with his pocket watch on him, was one of the 1,500 who died in the tragedy.

The watch was found when Astor’s body was recovered several days after the Titanic sank. After the watch was retrieved, it was given to his son, Vincent, who had it restored and gave it to the son of his family’s secretary as a christening gift. The auction lot included copies of the baptismal certificate, a photograph of Vincent Astor, and a letter from Madeleine Astor.

The previous record for Titanic memorabilia, also sold by Henry Aldridge & Son, was £1.1 million pounds, or about $1.4 million dollars, for the violin that played as the ship sank. It sold in 2013. The case to that violin sold at the same auction as Astor’s watch for £290,000, or about $360,000. A first-class menu from the ship sold for $102,000 in November 2023.

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Rising from the Ashes

By Kris Manty

Growing up, a staple accessory on my family’s coffee table was a large piece of cut glass with a pattern of flowers and stars that seemed far too pretty for its purpose: holding my parents’ cigarette ashes and cigarette butts.

At the time, my parents were heavy smokers, and at least one ashtray was in several rooms in our home, as well as the garage and basement, including souvenir ones that my paternal grandparents brought back from yearly trips to Las Vegas.

Moroccan Hazel Atlas round amber glass cigar
ashtray, 8 in. d, 1960s, $145. Courtesy 1stDibs

After my parents quit smoking cold turkey for good, I don’t remember what happened to the other ashtrays, but that pretty cut glass one remained on the coffee table for years, repurposed as a candy dish.

Collectors have appreciated ashtrays and their distinctive place in design history for decades. But ashtrays have ignited in popularity over the past few years as more people are coveting them as cool and nostalgic collectibles.

They’ve Come a Long Way, Baby

Since the 16th century, cigarettes, cigars, and other tobacco products have experienced their share of popularity, controversy, bans, repeals, and frequent scorn, becoming unacceptable and unwelcome in homes and public establishments. But the ashtray remains an iconic object even after the smoke has cleared.

Rudimentary forms of ashtrays existed before their first big heyday in the 19th century, but it was during this time that their popularity skyrocketed, especially as more women began smoking. To accommodate female smokers, ashtrays became more fashionable and ornate art forms, depicting colorful landscapes, floral arrangements and pastoral scenes.

This set of four Hermès ashtrays, c. 1990s, sold for $1,400
at auction. Courtesy of Wright Auction

As ashtrays became more common, they began reflecting the style trends of the decades they were produced.

THE 1920s: Hollywood glamour and the emergence of luxury travel on ocean liners and trains produced Art Deco’s simple geometric shapes. The stylish, sleek lines of ashtrays from this period reflect a time when smoking culture was the cat’s meow.

Art Déco smoking table, 22 1/2 in. h by 14 in. d, 1930s, $1,896. Courtesy 1stDibs

THE 1930s: During the Great Depression, glass manufacturers, including Federal Glass, Hocking Glass, and MacBeth-Evans, mass-produced attractive and affordable Depression glass pieces that were popular because they provided some colorful glitz during otherwise hard times.

THE 1940s: Lucite, an acrylic also born during the Great Depression, was a popular material for decorating during this decade. Lucite ashtrays were often embedded with glitter, rhinestones, seashells, and coins.

A wonderfully ironic ashtray from Harvard Medical School, 1960s, $125.

THE 1950s & ’60s: These decades were the golden age of smoking when nearly half of the population in the U.S. regularly lit up, spawning some of the most sought-after ashtray designs. After World War II, whimsical styles and colorful, abstract patterns reflected the country’s optimism in the ’50s, and bright, pop-culture imagery and Tiki style ruled, including the humorous head-shaped open-mouthed ashtrays in homes across the U.S. In the ’60s, pop culture reflected a new wave of unconstrained attitudes and open-mindedness, producing groovy, free-form designs and psychedelic colors.

An exquisite 1970s ceramic ashtray by Italian artist Dante Baldelli, $750.

Adding Panache to Spaces

Today’s growing collecting fanbase includes lovers of the Mid-Century Modern era’s many high-quality ceramic and glass ashtrays and vintage shoppers wanting to add affordable design history, nostalgia, and personality to their homes—and find a valuable prize. In 2022, legions were scouring second-hand shops after a college student bought a “Too Young to Die” ashtray by Japanese artist Yoshitomo Nara for $10 at Goodwill and flipped it on eBay for $2,860. These ashtrays from 2002 continue to sell between $500 to $2,500.

Yoshitomo Nara, “Too Young To Die” ceramic ashtray, 2002, 10 in. d, $1,400. Courtesy of Freeman/Hindman

Vintage ashtrays are decor pieces that bring something distinctive and unique to a room and contribute to its vibe. They also fit well with this year’s “eclectic grandpa” trend in design and fashion.

Many ashtrays can be found at thrift stores and yard sales for less than $10, while deluxe floor models and extravagant examples made by famous companies like Tiffany and Wiener Werkstätte are offered at 1stDibs, Charish, and other e-commerce sites for tens of thousands of dollars.

Art Deco Ashtray Stand, brass and Bakelite
by Demeyere, Belgium, 1930s, 24 in. h, $658. Courtesy 1stDibs

Though fewer people smoke cigarettes these days, the legalization of marijuana use in more states still creates a practical need for ashtrays, but the majority are used as decorative pieces rather than for catching ashes. Collectors use them as candle holders, receptacles for candy, keys and loose change, put them on nightstands to corral jewelry or other trinkets, and on bathroom counters to hold soap or other toiletries. They can also serve cocktail onions and olives for martinis, as well as dips and spreads. Large agate and stone ashtrays from the 1950s and 1960s can be repurposed as soap dishes and wine coasters.

Popularly Collected and Valuable

Designers have left behind an overwhelming array of vintage ashtrays to choose from in different colors, shapes and sizes. There are Depression glass models in a rainbow of hues; hefty Bohemian cut-crystal ashtrays that add a dash of Hollywood Regency to a space; beautiful hand-painted Noritake ashtrays; dainty vanity ashtrays from the 1920s that women used when they smoked while getting ready for a night out; Homer Laughlin’s Amberstone and Fiesta ashtrays with the company’s trademark concentric rings; gorgeous art glass ashtrays in rich jewel tones; chic and elegant Hermès ashtrays adorned with images of horses, hunting dogs, and sailboats; folksy models made in animal shapes by Red Wing and Rookwood; high-end gold and silver examples; brass, bronze, and copper models; fanciful Brush-McCoy ceramic ashtrays, including pot-bellied examples flanked by a pair of open-mouthed frogs that held fresh cigarettes; candy-colored handblown glass pieces by Murano; all kinds of Mid-Century models, like aqua and pink ceramic atomic boomerangs, some of which are on little stands; stackable pastel melamine ashtrays; and souvenir ashtrays from casinos, hotels, and nightclubs, along with ones that advertise beer and liquor brands. There are also tall metal smoking stands, some of which include a table or magazine rack.

The Stork Club (1929-1965) was a prestigious nightclub in New York City
where the beautiful people came to mingle. This porcelain Stork Club ashtray,
c. 1950, sold for $1,008 at Wright Auction

And that is just the tip of the iceberg. Whether you smoke or not, vintage ashtrays are appealing collectibles. Their small size makes them easy to acquire and display in large numbers without taking up too much space. As snapshots of the (then) current culture, ashtrays were made during some of the most creative eras in history, so if you’re a fan of the Victorian, Arts and Crafts, or counterculture era, you’re sure to find one that fits your taste and aesthetic.

No longer seen as mere utilitarian pieces with the sole purpose of holding odious cigarette butts, ashtrays have become rightly appreciated as decorative art.

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Hang on to Your Hat

By Dr. Anthony Cavo

Audrey Hepburn in “Breakfast at Tiffany’s.” Getty Images

You don’t have to be as mad as a hatter to understand the inextricable history of women and hats, but it helps.

Throughout history, hats have indicated a person’s religion, occupation, and social status. Many of us were born when people typically wore hats every day and were required to wear them. Others were born when hats were no longer an everyday accessory.

Yet, the culture of hats has been so deeply established in our ethos that we are still able to recognize and identify different types of hats and associate them with a definite country, occupation, or religion.

Though most of us do not wear them, many can identify a sombrero, a fez, an Aussie bush hat, a Tam O’Shanter, a Glengarry, the Alpine Tyrolean hat, the Russian fur ushanka, a Greek fisherman’s hat, the conical straw Asian hat, the kippah, the kufi, bowler, top hat and beret.

Headwear is not only visually entrenched in our society; hats contribute to our verbal communication in descriptive and comparative ways. Most, if not all, of us will understand the many idioms and expressions derived from hats. Recently, I was invited to curate and lecture on a hat exhibit at a local museum, and I eagerly threw my hat in the ring. I wasn’t sure how to approach the subject, so I had to put on my thinking cap and make sure I didn’t speak through my hat, or I might have my hat handed to me. Surprisingly, the hat exhibit became one of the museum’s popular displays.

We often hear people described as mad as a hatter, wearing more than one hat, keeping something under their hat, pulling something out of a hat, pulling a hat over someone’s eyes, or someone who’s willing to eat their hat. And most of us are familiar with the expression, “If the shoe fits, wear it,” which is not the original expression. Originally, the expression, which originated in England and dates from the early 1700s, was, “If the cap fits, wear it.” The “cap” being referred to is the fool’s cap, a brightly colored cap with drooping peaks from which bells hung (you’ll see it on a joker in a deck of cards). In the United States, inexplicably, the cap became a shoe – perhaps a remnant of our revolutionary spirit.

Someone may have told us to hang on to our hat, that home is where we hang our hat, that something is old hat, hats off to you, to pass the hat, or that something is a feather in our cap. How many of us have ever told someone, “Here’s your hat, what’s your hurry?” Not you? Well, perhaps you don’t have in-laws (only kidding, maybe).

We may have done something at the drop of a hat, pulled something out of a hat, approached someone with our hat in hand, looked for something to hang our hat on, hoped our hockey team performed a hat trick, or lastly, been described as someone who wears a ten-dollar hat on a five-cent head. In Texas, there is a descriptive hat expression for someone who is all talk and has no substance: “All hat and no cattle.”

You may laugh at these hat clichés, but the point is that even though we no longer routinely wear them (except for the ubiquitous baseball or knit caps), hats are so ingrained in our culture that we continue to use and be familiar with these idioms and their meanings.

Hats have been around for thousands of years. Hats have been depicted on figures in murals discovered in Greece and Egypt that date back more than 5,000 years. In most countries, it was once highly unusual to encounter a person not wearing a hat. Throughout the world, hats were as much a part of everyday wear as any other article of clothing. In fact, in 1571, Queen Elizabeth I decreed that everyone should wear a hat on Sundays and holidays or pay a fine.

There was a time when it was highly unusual to encounter a
person not wearing a hat. In fact, in 1571, Queen Elizabeth I
decreed that everyone should wear a hat on Sundays and holidays
or pay a fine. Getty Images

Even the Christian Church recognized the significance of hats, and for this reason, in addition to some questionable Biblical references, the social connotations of hats are one reason why men remove their hats in church. Because hats typically denoted social status, the removal of hats in the church was meant to signify that all men were equal in the sight of God. Of course, even with no hat in church, a man’s wealth was known by the pew in which he and his family sat – which kind of defeated the sense of equality.

During the late 19th to the early 20th century, the wealthy upper classes distinguished themselves from the general public and even each other by dressing extravagantly and expensively. It was a time of conspicuous consumption where members of the wealthy class were identified by the cost of their possessions. A person couldn’t drag around their house, furnishings, carpets, and silver, but their clothing went with them everywhere. The amount of lace and beading on a dress or the number of gems on a neck, wrist, or finger let the world know that you had money and indicated you were from the upper social classes and, as such, better in every way than the average person. It was the same with hats. Large hats with a profusion of feathers and an extravagant and costly hat pin were all indications of wealth. The type of person my gran would say was “Dressed like Mrs. Astor’s pet horse.”

There have been times when hairstyles influenced hat styles (the calash) and times when hat styles influenced hairstyles (the cloche). During the late 18th century, most women wore simple shawls as head coverings or hats made of straw, plain cotton, or wool. Upper-class women wore elaborate bonnets of silk and satin, often over a base of straw or a framework of cane or whalebone. During the late 18th century, women’s exaggeratedly high hairstyles required large hoop-structured bonnets known as a calash.

The calash, which is essentially a retractable bonnet, was typically
made of silk stretched over cane or whalebone hoops. This calash dates to about 1780.

Calash bonnets were designed specifically to accommodate the large, elaborate hairstyles that were fashionable during the late 18th to early 19th century. No matter how high a woman wore her hair (twelve inches high or higher was not unusual), decency demanded she wear a head covering. The calash also protected hairstyles from wind and rain; some were even waterproof.
The name calash is derived from the French word “calèche,” which was a type of retractable hood on a French horse-drawn carriage. When indoors, the calash could be worn folded back. Outdoors, it could be drawn forward with the use of a drawstring or ribbon. Wearing a calash indicated that a woman came from the upper classes.

BONNETS: THE DOMINANT HEADWEAR

Bonnets from left to right: Left: Brown Poke Bonnet of pleated, ruched, tucked, and shirred silk drawn over cane ribs, with a curtain cape flounced draped back, circa 1830s. This is also known as a draw bonnet where the body of the bonnet is drawn over and stitched to a cane, whalebone, or wire frame. Center: Anna White, born June 14, 1802, wore this leghorn straw, satin, and lace wedding bonnet for her wedding to Horace Peck on January 22, 1829, in Clarendon, Orleans County, N.Y. You’ll notice this bonnet has a very deep crown and a wide, exaggerated brim that prevents all peripheral vision. Right: Leghorn Shaker straw and palm Poke bonnet with a bavolet, circa 1820s. Leghorn straw is a fine-plaited straw. You’ll notice the small crown and elongated tunnel-like brim that extends past the face. Women kept their hair covered for modesty, tradition, religious beliefs, personal decoration, and protection from the elements. Bonnets were the predominant headgear for women for most of the 19th century. In a time before sunblock or sunglasses, a bonnet’s brim protected the face and eyes from the wind, rain, and sun, and the trailing bavolet protected the neck from sunburn.

During the 19th century, the bonnet was the dominant head covering for women, and there were many types: off-the-face bonnets, poke bonnets, and draw bonnets being the most popular. A bonnet covers the crown of the head and features a small or large brim that entirely frames the face, severely restricting peripheral vision. It ties under the chin. Many 19th-century bonnets featured a ruffle of fabric at the back meant to cover the neck. This ruffle is called a bavolet, which is the French word for flap. Bonnets were often lined and decorated under the brim with flowers, tucks, shirring, and ribbons.

Until the 20th century, most women wore head coverings in the home, known as day or house caps. House caps could cover the hair completely (mob caps), expose the hair just above the forehead, or simply sit on the crown (pinners). These house caps could be plain or elaborate and made of linen, cotton, or muslin embellished with ribbons, ruffles, eyelets, or lace. During the 1860s, Mary Van Saun chose a house cap with extensions called lappets. After 1890, day caps were worn only by elderly women.

Mary Van Saun in a house cap with extensions called lappets.

During the 19th century, a woman in mourning could be identified by her apparel; everything she wore was black. Bonnets of almost any black material were worn with crepe veiling. The crepe veiling had to be worn over the face whenever the mourning woman was out in public. The veiling was heavy, difficult to see through, and toxic. The black dye contained heavy metals, most notably arsenic. These dyes cause irritation, scarring, and respiratory illnesses. They were absorbed through the skin, mucous membranes, and respiratory tract. These toxins caused illness and, in some cases, even death. The term “widow’s weeds” is derived from the old English word for apparel, which in turn was derived from the Indo-European word “wedh,” which meant “to weave.”

Women in mourning were identified by their black apparel,
including a bonnet with crepe veiling.

During the 1890s, women’s hats became narrow and tall, so tall in fact that they earned the nickname “three-story hats.” By the first decade of the 20th century, women’s hats remained tall but also became wider, often wider than their shoulders. These milliner’s monuments were held in place by hat pins eight to ten inches long and often as long as 12 inches. Tall or wide, these hats came with problems of their own when passing through crowds and doorways.

It might surprise you to learn that the fedora was originally a woman’s hat, as was the skimmer (boater)
made famous by French singer and actor Maurice Chevalier. The woman at the left wore a fedora during the
early 1890s, while her contemporary in the center chose a skimmer. Women also wore top hats when riding
horses, as did this young woman during the 1880s.

PLUME BLOOM

In addition to their unnecessary height and gratuitous width, hats were further adorned with jewelry, flowers, and plumes from exotic birds or even the entire bird. With every movement of her head, a woman risked brushing, scratching, or poking anyone in her presence. Plumage on hats became so enormous and popular that herons and egrets, along with dozens of other birds, teetered on the brink of extinction. In fact, the Carolina parakeet, the only parrot native to North America, was hunted to extinction for its plumage.

1890s hats adorned with feathers. Big was the way to go during the mid-1890s when hats
were side and tall, sleeves were like balloons, and the hem of a skirt could be
three-and-a-half yards in circumference. Hats in the 1890s were so narrow and tall that they
earned the nickname “three-story.” Bird feathers also became popular headwear adornment,
much to the detriment of many birds.

The term “Plume Boom” refers to the first two decades of the 20th century when a number of migratory and native species of birds were hunted almost to extinction. Plumage was big business. From 1905 to 1920, more than 80,000 skins from the bird of paradise were sold in markets in New York, London, and Paris. In 1911, prices for a single set of plumes ranged from $30 to $48, today’s equivalent of $1,100 to $1,400. In 1913, Eaton’s Catalogue, a Canadian mail-order catalog, offered a Bird of Paradise Aigrette for $12, which was a small fortune for the time, about $420 today. The aigrette was typically made of one or more white egret feathers.

Not unlike today, plays, movies and celebrities have also influenced fashions
in hats. In 1907, a musical named The Merry Widow featured the lead in the
play wearing a large, ostrich-plumed hat. Soon, every fashionable woman had
to have a similar hat, which became known as “The Merry Widow Hat.”

As a direct result of fashion, the population decline in large, beautiful birds such as the great egret, snowy egret, blue heron, green heron, flamingos, spoonbills, grebes, ostriches, and bird of paradise was so severe that Congress had to enact laws to preserve what remained of these decimated populations.

CONGRESS AND SHORTER HAIRSTYLES RESCUE BIRD POPULATIONS

Two women, Harriet Hemenway and her cousin, Mina Hall, were horrified by the decimation of these bird populations and lectured and encouraged women’s groups to boycott products decorated with feathers. They, along with William Brewster, created the Massachusetts Audubon Society in 1897 and launched a boycott that led to the prohibition of wild bird feather trading in their state.

In 1913, the Weeks-McLean Law enacted by Congress outlawed hunting and interstate transportation of birds. The Migratory Bird Treaty Act of 1918 prohibited the importation of feathers and the slaughter of migratory birds for feathers. These laws were only part of the reason many bird species were brought back from the brink of extinction.

As strange as it may seem, the decline in the public’s desire for feathers was based more on a hairstyle than the desire to save these birds. Women’s shorter hairstyles, which became popular beginning in 1913, no longer provided a suitable foundation for the large, heavily plumed hats worn by their mothers and grandmothers. The shorter hairstyles and incredible popularity of the cloche cap made plume-hunting no longer profitable.

By the 1920s, the hatpin argument was pretty much over as hats became smaller
and tightly fitted. The cloche, French for “bell”, was the most popular hat of
the decade. Many young women eschewed hats altogether in favor of the bandeau or
headache band, which will forevermore be associated with the flappers of the Roaring Twenties.

CHANGING WITH THE TIMES

Throughout the 1930s and 1940s, hats were de rigueur for women. They ranged in size from the small Glengarry and simple fascinators to hats of outrageous proportions with veiling, snoods, beads, and bejeweled clips. Most people wore hats every day until the 1950s and 1960s, after which the popularity of the hat rapidly declined. There are a couple of major reasons for this decline. Prior to people owning cars and utilizing mass transit, most people walked to their destination and hats were required as protection against the sun or inclement weather. As more and more people began to travel by car and use public transportation, the hat was no longer required and, in fact, became inconvenient.

During the late 1950s and 1960s, hairstyles for men and women became more important than the latest fashion in hats. For women, hairstyles like the poodle cut, bouffant, beehive, and pixie cut were styles meant to be appreciated rather than hidden beneath a hat.

For men, it was the Quiff, flattops, pompadour, duck tail, jelly roll, mop tops, and afros. Throughout the 1960s and 1970s, many women only wore hats on Sundays, and then three major trends occurred: the requirement for women to wear hats took on a negative connotation of subservience, church attendance began to decrease, and by 1983, the Catholic church no longer required women to wear hats or head coverings in church.

It is interesting to note that during President Kennedy’s inauguration in 1961, there was hardly a bare head in the crowd, and by Johnson’s second inauguration in 1965, there was barely a hat in the crowd.

President Kennedy in a top hat and wife Jacqueline Kennedy in her signature
pillbox hat on Inauguration Day, Jan. 20, 1961. It was the beginning of JFK’s
presidency and the beginning of the end of the reign of hats.

Although it seems like the hat’s demise happened suddenly, it actually began during the late 1920s with young people challenging the tradition. Perhaps one day, future generations will once again wear hats to distinguish themselves from their parents’ and grandparents’ generations. Wouldn’t that be cool?

Few Hollywood stars look as lovely in a hat as Audrey Hepburn.
The only question here: Is Hepburn wearing this enormous pink hat
in a scene from 1964’s “My Fair Lady,” or is it wearing her?

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The Remarkable Tale of Rookwood Pottery

Maria Longworth Nichols Storer

In 1880, Maria Longworth Nichols Storer (1849 – 1932) founded Rookwood Pottery in Cincinnati, Ohio. A wealthy young woman, she was inspired, like so many of her contemporaries, by the Japanese ceramics displayed at the 1876 Philadelphia Centennial International Exposition.

Though she had just one year of formal pottery training and was inexperienced in business, she opened the first art pottery in the United States, naming it Rookwood after her childhood home. In 1883, she hired William Watts Taylor to manage the pottery, a position he retained until his death in 1913.

Storer, and to a greater extent Taylor, focused on the development of distinct, signature glaze lines. The first of these was the Standard Glaze line, a yellow-tinted translucent high-gloss glaze over slip-painted decoration on ground colors of green, yellow, and, more commonly, brown. Through the 1880s and 1890s, more high-gloss glaze lines were developed, including Iris, Sea Green, and Aerial Blue.

Anna Marie Valentien for Rookwood Pottery, rare and large
modeled mat figural vase, 1901,15 in. h. x 7 in. d., sold for
$32,760 in January at the Rago Early 20th Century Design sale.
Image courtesy of Rago

By the dawn of the 20th century, countless others were created, including matte glazes, which were gaining in popularity by then. The vessels themselves were standardized shapes, thrown or molded separately, and then given to the decorator to paint. In the early years, they imitated Japanese forms, and though Oriental themes continued to inspire designs, a variety of subjects were explored, such as Native American portraits, sea-faring vessels, landscapes, and a multitude of flora and fauna.

William P. McDonald for Rookwood Pottery, iris vase
with poppies, 1900, 14 1/4 in. h. x 8 1/2 in. d., $37,500.
Image courtesy of Rago

William Taylor played a key role in Rookwood’s success. The company would go on to become the largest art pottery in the country, employing more than 200 people at its height. He sought to elevate humble pottery to the same level as fine art and increase its influence in the art world.

To this end, the company hired many talented pottery decorators who aimed for absolute perfection in the firing, avoiding crazing and glaze bubbles. Pieces that are uncrazed and have as few factory flaws as possible are especially desirable to collectors today. Among the many talented artists employed at Rookwood are Matt Daly, Sara Sax, Carl Schmidt, Albert Valentien, Lenore Asbury, and Japanese artist Kataro Shirayamadani. More than 130 artists have been identified as having worked at Rookwood, many having distinct art careers outside of pottery as well.

John Dee Wareham for Rookwood Pottery,
Sea Green Paris Exposition vase with cranes,
1900, 14 1/2 in. h x 6 in. d., $16,380.
Image courtesy of Rago

At first, the pieces were purchased mainly by Nichols’ wealthy friends, but Taylor expanded the company’s market to encompass regional, national, and international audiences. He not only advertised in nationally circulated journals and newspapers but also made significant donations to museums, specifically to the Cincinnati Art Museum, which owned more than 2,000 pieces. Further, he ensured that Rookwood was included in regional displays as well as international expositions.

Anna Marie Valentien, Rookwood
Pottery, vase, 1900, $23,940.
Image courtesy of Rago

Early honors included the Gold Medal at the 1889 Exposition Universelle in Paris and the highest honors at the 1893 World’s Columbian Exposition in Chicago. Rookwood would win even more impressive levels of acclaim: Gold and Silver medals at the 1901 Pan-American Exposition in Buffalo, Grand Prize at the International Exposition of Ceramics and Glass in St. Petersburg that same year, a Diploma of Honor at the 1902 First International Exposition of Modern Decorative Arts in Turin, and two Grand Prizes at the 1904 Louisiana International Exposition in St. Louis, where they showcased the Vellum glaze line.

Maria Longworth Nichols Storer,
Rookwood Pottery, vase, $33,750.
Image courtesy of Toomey

Rookwood Pottery enjoyed success into the 20th century. Upon Taylor’s passing in 1913, management was handed to Joseph Henry Guest, the director of the Cincinnati Art Museum at the time. The company continued to innovate and hire new and talented artists into the 1920s. Rookwood prospered until the Great Depression took its toll, and sales slowed.

Rookwood Pottery had been marketed and collected as high-end, luxury craft, and many who had been acquiring the pieces could no longer afford to do so. As a consequence, Rookwood closed for a year from October 1930 to 1931, and by 1932, most of the decorators had been laid off. The company filed for bankruptcy in 1941, at which point it was purchased by a firm of investors. Production continued in limited quantities through World War II. The company passed through several more hands before it moved to Mississippi in 1960 to cut costs and lingered until 1967, when it permanently closed its doors.

Maria Longworth Nichols Storer for
Rookwood Pottery, vase, $23,750.
Image courtesy of Toomey

Gone but not forgotten, Rookwood Pottery left behind an impressive legacy as one of the most successful, most famous, and most artistically and technically innovative American art potteries of the 19th and 20th centuries.

Sara Sax Rookwood Bowl

Of Love Lost…Then Found Again

I watched as my 33-year-old son Ryan bent way down under the dusty shelves in the back of the storage room. We had finally found a day to be together to start unpacking the basement chaos. It had been three trying months since my husband’s funeral, and my two boys and I were continuing the unsettling process of sorting through their dad’s things. At only 59, Bill, my husband of 40 years, had died suddenly of a heart attack. The emotions on some days were taking their toll, and tackling one room at a time kept us guessing at what we would uncover. Bill had accumulated a ton … of … stuff. Or should I say, memories?

A rediscovered record collection, long ago
buried in their basement, helps a family
deal with the loss of a husband and a father.

Ryan called for me to hand him a flashlight. I searched and found one in the vast pile of camping equipment and handed it to my youngest son, 26-year-old Jeremiah. He crouched down near the shelf ledge next to his brother. I watched them each from behind, and a few sad/happy tears welled up in me as I marveled at their broad shoulders.

They both so resembled their father, the love of my life since I was a young girl. My 6-foot-7-inch sons unfolded themselves and lifted out the first of many boxes. My husband had been an avid collector of almost everything. Not only was he an Eagle Scout and a detail-oriented rocket scientist, but the other side of Bill’s brain carried a deep passion to beat the heck out of his massive drum collection.

Daylyn and Bill were teens when they met. He became a rocket scientist but still
loved to play the drums. And both enjoyed scouring antique stores for old records.

A talented musician from the time he was 12, Bill had developed a love of all kinds of music. It was a common bond we shared from the early years of our relationship, and we had various instruments and amplifiers sharing space with the boxes, all strewn across the basement carpeting in our Littleton, Colo., home. I watched the boys continue the heavy lifting, and I let myself stop and remember back to the beginning before our family was born.

Bill and I had met in high school. At 16, I would sit on Bill’s twin-size bed in his disheveled room, listening to old records and watching as he sat behind his drums and prepared to play along with The Four Seasons, Herman’s Hermits, and Herb Albert and the Tijuana Brass. Bill transformed from his usual quiet, shy demeanor into a different person when he started to drum. He would pull out his albums from the box next to his stereo—it’s a stretch to call it a stereo—find the song he wanted and place that little needle arm carefully along the record’s edge.

I remember being so impressed with how many songs he knew. From oldies to the Bee Gees to Boston. “More Than a Feeling” and the popular theme song from “Hawaii-Five-O” were his favorites, and he rocked them. I fell in love with him drumming to those two songs.

Daylyn and Bill Miller on their wedding day; she still in braces.

Bill and I had grown up in everything together, so going through all of this was a cascade of emotions for me. My sons had followed suit with a love of music, and our basement was a percussionist’s dream. Bill would play his drums whenever he needed a release. He was very committed to all his various interests and a sentimental giant to boot. It seemed everywhere we looked, there was a crate or a bin with a story attached to it and an unspoken desire that he would get back to it “someday.”

I pushed those thoughts aside, pulled myself together, and watched the boys peer back underneath the metal brackets to grab another worn box that had been shoved back against the concrete basement wall. There were three incredibly heavy cardboard cartons that had likely been put there the day we moved in ages ago. The boys hoisted them out into the main room, careful not to let the heavy treasures inside bust out the bottom.

Daylyn Miller squeezed between her sons, Jeremiah (with guitar) and Ryan.

I knew what we had found. I smiled to myself as we opened the tops and started to blow the dust off the old vinyl albums. Not only Boston and Hawaii-Five-O, but all the albums from my husband’s youth and the early years of our marriage were in those boxes. There were records from my childhood and classics from my parents’ eclectic country collection.

Bill had said we should never get rid of any of them. Johnny Cash and Kenny Rogers would’ve been honored to know the place they held in my basement. We didn’t even own a turntable anymore, but it didn’t matter. Just looking through the albums brought back many more memories of great music and hopeful dreams for a long future together. Record covers, song melodies, and liner notes with lyrics of passionate men and women pursuing each other. Love found and then often lost. I ironically pulled out “Big Girls Don’t Cry.”

I flipped through the record titles and figured some might be valuable to others. Bill and I loved going to antique and vintage stores and perusing the albums there. That was one of our many favorite things to do. We’d search through the piles and say, “Do we still have this one?” Well … here they were.

The Beatles and some Elvis might be collectibles. But America? One Rod Stewart and some of my dad’s classic Hank Williams? Probably not so much. I was a lover of David Gates and Bread, Dan Fogelberg, and John Denver. Most were priceless only to me because they brought back 45-year-old feelings of falling in love and anxiously waiting to be able to be together always. “Carry on Wayward Son” by Kansas was the first song I ever awkwardly danced with a boy to … and The Beach Boys’ “Wouldn’t it be Nice,” exactly described our teenage courtship. “Hooked on a Feeling” by BJ Thomas was “our song,” and let’s just be honest, the Eagles’ “Peaceful Easy Feeling” carried Bill and me out into the desert and pursued attentions that certainly could have gotten us into trouble, but mainly made us inseparable.

One of the author’s favorites, John Denver’s “Greatest Hits” album.

These records brought it all back to my mind and tugged at my heart. I found my favorite album ever, of which I also embarrassingly owned not only the cassette but the CD, too. And these days, it’s frequently number one on my Apple playlist. England Dan and John Ford Coley…remember them? “I’d Really Love to See You Tonight” and “Nights are Forever Without You.” We must’ve played that album a thousand times. Bill’s high school garage band had played a pretty good rendition of America’s “Sister Golden Hair,” and the gentle side of Bill loved everything Karen Carpenter. I bet he was happy to see her in heaven. We uncovered Seals and Crofts’ “I’ll Play for You” and my absolute favorite song of all time, “We Will Never Pass This Way Again.” Those two songs alone now embrace my being in a whole new way. The emotions took over, and memories of 1979 and sitting on Bill’s bed rose again in me, and my two big sons enveloped me in a loving bear hug. Their dad had certainly taught them to love their mom well.

Now that Bill is gone, I can’t seem to stop listening to all these songs. And even more so now that he’s gone, I’m thankful he made us keep these old albums … even if just to look at them and reminisce.

I remember dancing at Ryan’s wedding to “Amarillo by Morning,” and ironically, Jeremiah has his own band now and can play ALL these songs. He DOES own a vintage turntable and was thrilled to add these records to his vinyl collection … or at least the ones I was able to part with once we finished reorganizing that crowded storage room. Everything old is new again. Chicago, Simon and Garfunkel … the list goes on and on.

The fact that I can now easily pull up any genre and song I want to and listen to it on my phone at a moment’s notice is almost unreal. Is the memory the same? Sometimes … maybe. I don’t have that emotional answer right now. But I will admit I often have Mama Cass singing along with me in my Jeep … you gotta “Make Your Own Kind of Music.”

Yes, it’s a different life for me now than I ever imagined it would be. I wouldn’t trade the memories that came back as we uncovered those boxes. I know my husband, and I fulfilled every lyric of every true love song ever written, and I am eternally grateful to him for that. And now, often when one of our songs comes on that Apple playlist … I call my sons … just to tell them how much I love them.

DAYLYN MILLER is a writer living in Denver. She loves road trips in the rain with coffee in hand … listening to music and podcasts while driving through the mountains or absolutely anywhere. Before her husband Bill died in November of 2022, they built their teaching and YouTube ministry, RedeemingDay, which she carries forward, somewhat sentimentally, in his honor.

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Luxury Investments Are in the Bag

From Chanel to Hermès, luxury handbags are among the fastest-growing assets for collectors.

By Kris Manty

Grace Kelly with Prince Rainier III of Monaco in 1956, holding the 
style of Hermès handbag that was named after her. 

When Princess of Monaco Grace Kelly became pregnant in 1956, she used her Hermès handbag to shield her burgeoning belly from the paparazzi, who were always photographing her. At the time, her handbag was known as the Sac à Dépêches, but because it was thrust into the spotlight with the former actress, customers kept asking the company for the “Kelly bag,” which it was officially renamed. Not only is the iconic Kelly still a top “it” bag for its craftsmanship and design, but it’s also eagerly sought by collectors for its investment payoff.

This matte white Himalaya Niloticus Kelly 28 with 18k white gold
and diamond hardware sold for a world record $513,000 in 2021.
Courtesy of Christie’s.

Accessories and Assets

Since the pandemic, luxury handbags by Chanel, Hermès, Louis Vuitton and other brands have been one of the fastest-growing assets among collectors. Though not many people bat an eye anymore when collectors spend millions for a baseball card, coin, or comic book, buying a luxury handbag can seem like a frivolous purchase when inflation climbs and households struggle with increasing living costs. But for savvy collectors, some purses are more than accessories and are viewed as investments just as lucrative as real estate and stocks—and that’s not wrong. It’s smart!

According to global market research firm Data Bridge, the luxury handbag market is growing and is projected to reach $42 billion by 2029. In a 2022 report by Credit Suisse, the global financial consulting company named handbags one of the best collectible investments for 2023, beating out art and jewelry in resale value. Analysts found that the average value of designer purses has increased by 92 percent in the last decade, whereas art increased by 84 percent and jewelry by 53 percent.

Luxury labels are also increasingly catering to collectors by releasing their most prized handbags in minimal numbers. These one-of-a-kind purses can fetch hundreds of thousands at auction.

While you might think economic uncertainty would dampen the trend, experts say this is not true. A report by management consultancy Bain & Co. forecasted increased resilience to recession in the worldwide luxury goods market after robust growth in 2022—and investing in luxury handbags is expected to keep growing.

Financial experts say that since the pandemic, luxury handbags like these
Louis Vuitton and Hermès bags have been better investments than art and jewelry.
Courtesy of Heritage Auctions

The Rise of the Pandemic Purse

While collecting and investing in designer handbags is not new, the soaring popularity stems from a bigger boom in luxury goods that began during the pandemic. Luxury spending in the United States was 47 percent higher in 2021 than it was in 2019, according to Bank of America. Confined to their homes, Americans splurged on designer items, including Hermès Birkin and Kelly bags that have set auction records in the last few years.

The collector pool is also diverse, ranging from serious buyers collecting for 20 or more years to younger women looking for their first Chanel purse. The increased popularity of luxury handbags is thanks, in part, to these younger collectors taking note.

In 2022, Generation Z (people between ages 10 and 25) and millennials (between ages 26 and 42) accounted for 72 percent of the luxury goods market. Due to skyrocketing luxury prices, it has, in fact, now become a lucrative new hobby for these two generations to flip designer handbags.

Of course, collectors need to be smart about the handbags they buy, as not all are guaranteed to have increased value. Deep pockets are also required. The most coveted investment-quality handbags with the highest prices and appreciation values are the big three power purses: Hermès’ Birkin and Kelly bags and Chanel’s Flap Bag.

The Birkin

When French-English actress and singer Jane Birkin and Hermès chief executive Jean-Louis Dumas sat next to each other on a flight in 1981, they brainstormed the ideal weekend bag. When the actress’ namesake Birkin bag was released in 1984, it was everything it remains today: handcrafted of the finest leathers, limited availability, and designed for an exclusive clientele. It wasn’t until the “it bag” trend in the 1990s that the Birkin became a cultural icon.

Though the elegant and timeless trapezoid-shaped Birkin is available in various sizes and materials, the most coveted and collectible handbag today is the crocodile skin Himalaya Birkin. It’s a purse, investment, and piece of art rolled into one. These Birkin bags can fetch anywhere from $100,000 to $500,000 on the resale market.

A shiny rose Scheherazade Porosus Crocodile Birkin Bag with Palladium
hardware in the Luxury Boutique at Heritage Auctions for $80.000.
Courtesy Heritage Auctions

The Hermès Himalaya’s delicate white-to-gray ombré mimics the snow-capped summits of its namesake mountain range. Highly sought after and rare, Himalayans continue to be the holy grail in any serious collection, and with demand far exceeding supply, it’s not surprising that these bags command top dollar at auction. In 2020, one of these Birkins brought approximately $382,295 in a Christie’s auction, setting a world record. In 2022, that record was broken after a diamond-embellished version went for a whopping $450,000 in a private sale at Sotheby’s.

The Kelly

Hermès’ original top-handled bag was created in 1892 to carry boots and a harness. In 1923, it was redesigned for the wife of automobile magnate Ettore Bugatti to fit into a car’s side pocket. It was modified again in 1935 by Robert Dumas-Hermès, who made it smaller, added a belt, and named it Sac à dépêches.

This rare matte white Himalaya Niloticus Retourné
Kelly 28 handbag with palladium hardware sold for $355,000.
Courtesy of Christie’s.

The bag’s popularity skyrocketed after Grace Kelly was seen carrying it everywhere in the 1950s, and soon after, it was christened the Kelly bag. Like its namesake, the Kelly bag also wears the crown as the most expensive handbag sold at auction. In 2021, a rare matte white Himalaya Niloticus Retourné Kelly 28 with palladium hardware sold for a then-record $355,000 at Christie’s in Hong Kong, and later that year, that world record was shattered after Christie’s sold a matte white Himalaya Niloticus Kelly 28 with 18k white gold and diamond hardware for $513,000.

The Flap Bag

Coco Chanel left behind a legacy of inventions we still utilize today. Her significant contribution to handbags came in 1955 when she created the rectangular Chanel 2.55 Flap Bag, named for the month and year it was made. The innovation came from having a shoulder strap—until 1955, women only had top-handle totes and pocketbooks or clutches. Women immediately became fans of its practicality, including the adjustable chain strap and accessible back slip pocket.

However, the Chanel purse that became synonymous with the brand was created in 1983: the Chanel Classic Double Flap. After Karl Lagerfeld became creative director, he reinterpreted the 2.55 with two new features—a Double C turn-lock closure and a leather woven chain. Lagerfeld’s Classic Double Flap was a big hit. The simplicity and universal wearability of the Double Flap make it one of the most sought-after pieces ever crafted.

Analysts at Credit Suisse noted that Chanel handbags specifically “offered the best inflation protection.”

There are numerous other luxury handbags by other brands that collectors and investors actively watch in the new and resale markets. Many buyers are also shifting to trendier and more affordable styles by brands like Bottega Veneta and Fendi instead of ultra-luxury classics.

Louis Vuitton blue ostrich mini Capucines
Bag with silver hardware sold in 2022 for $9,375.
Courtesy of Heritage Auctions

Whatever their price tag, luxury bags are pieces of wearable art made with the finest craftsmanship and materials. It’s essential to properly care for and insure your prized pieces to keep them safe and maintain their value.

Despite the hefty values some handbags carry, above all else, the ones worth collecting and investing in are the ones you will enjoy for years to come.

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