Sunday, June 29, 2008
I just cost someone $40,000 with a single mouse click.
As most of you know by now, I'm getting a lot of the pieces I'll be selling at the store at auction, and that most of the major auction houses now offer online bidding. One of the big West Coast ones is having its quarterly auction today. I bought a couple of furniture pieces, but was planning on just being a bystander when a gaggle of Warhols came up for auction. I watched the bidding on various pieces from here in my home office.
Predictably, the two Maos in the catalog were pulled -- I assume their owners clued in that Christie's or Sotheby's is a more appropriate forum to sell Warhols that well-known -- so the new star of the show was a Warhol portrait of Mick Jagger up on the block with a pre-sale estimate of $30,000-$40,000. It's Warhol, it's Jagger, and it's L.A., so naturally a bidding war ensued on the floor; the price quickly climbed in $1,000 increments to $70,000.
The problem was that the person operating the online-bidding software from the auction floor -- except for Christie's and Sotheby's, most of even the top auction houses (e.g. Wright and Rago) license eBay's LiveAuctions software for the purpose, since it's the best in the business and can keep up with basically any level of incoming traffic -- kept inputting the floor bids incorrectly. Instead of, say, $62,000, he or she would put in $620 or $62. Finally, when the bidding hit $70,000, the operator input "$70" instead of the actual amount.
Both because I wanted to alert them to the problem, and because online bidding errors are a pet peeve of mine, I hit the bid button on my screen, which read "Bid Now: US$80". Then everything froze, for a good five minutes. I don't know what the hell was going on in L.A., or the specific terms of the auction house's operating agreement with eBay, but I'm guessing their contract says they're legally obligated to accept the last bid placed into the online system, regardless of whether there was an entry error. Which meant that my $80 online bid trumped the last $70,000 bid placed on the floor.
As a result, they had to restart the bidding for the lot, beginning with the $25,000 opening bid. By this time, the irrational exuberance that had incited the initial bidding war had been entirely deflated, and instead of the $70,000 amount it'd been at five minutes earlier, the piece sold for $31,000, just over its low estimate.
I feel terrible.
As most of you know by now, I'm getting a lot of the pieces I'll be selling at the store at auction, and that most of the major auction houses now offer online bidding. One of the big West Coast ones is having its quarterly auction today. I bought a couple of furniture pieces, but was planning on just being a bystander when a gaggle of Warhols came up for auction. I watched the bidding on various pieces from here in my home office.
Predictably, the two Maos in the catalog were pulled -- I assume their owners clued in that Christie's or Sotheby's is a more appropriate forum to sell Warhols that well-known -- so the new star of the show was a Warhol portrait of Mick Jagger up on the block with a pre-sale estimate of $30,000-$40,000. It's Warhol, it's Jagger, and it's L.A., so naturally a bidding war ensued on the floor; the price quickly climbed in $1,000 increments to $70,000.
The problem was that the person operating the online-bidding software from the auction floor -- except for Christie's and Sotheby's, most of even the top auction houses (e.g. Wright and Rago) license eBay's LiveAuctions software for the purpose, since it's the best in the business and can keep up with basically any level of incoming traffic -- kept inputting the floor bids incorrectly. Instead of, say, $62,000, he or she would put in $620 or $62. Finally, when the bidding hit $70,000, the operator input "$70" instead of the actual amount.
Both because I wanted to alert them to the problem, and because online bidding errors are a pet peeve of mine, I hit the bid button on my screen, which read "Bid Now: US$80". Then everything froze, for a good five minutes. I don't know what the hell was going on in L.A., or the specific terms of the auction house's operating agreement with eBay, but I'm guessing their contract says they're legally obligated to accept the last bid placed into the online system, regardless of whether there was an entry error. Which meant that my $80 online bid trumped the last $70,000 bid placed on the floor.
As a result, they had to restart the bidding for the lot, beginning with the $25,000 opening bid. By this time, the irrational exuberance that had incited the initial bidding war had been entirely deflated, and instead of the $70,000 amount it'd been at five minutes earlier, the piece sold for $31,000, just over its low estimate.
I feel terrible.
Monday, June 23, 2008
Ethical question: let's say you've been offered a Cubist-style mirror sculpture for $1,200. Let's also say that the owner is not aware that the piece is likely the work of a certain 1970s-era designer well-known in some circles, and that a New York gallery that shall remain nameless currently has a similar piece for sale for $50,000. Do you have any moral obligation to let the seller know this fact? Or is it her own fault for not doing an adequate amount of due diligence on the piece to establish its true provenance?
Sunday, June 22, 2008
Wow, it is getting harder and harder to snatch good buys at auction. I sent Stephani up to Chicago this week to attend the preview for Wright's Mass Modern sale, and while her feedback was invaluable in terms of helping me avoid pieces that looked pretty in the catalog but were a hot mess in person, unfortunately most of the items she spied as great contenders for bids proved as popular with other bidders as us, so my results weren't as great as I'd hoped (much as at last week's NYC auctions). There was only one "piece that got away," a GORGEOUS Prouvé-attributed armoire that sold for a fraction of its estimate price, but unfortunately I chose that particular moment during the bidding (which I was doing online from Austin - Stephani was at that moment flying home from Chicago) to check my e-mail, and I didn't notice (or anticipate in advance, since Prouvé stuff usually sells within estimate range or higher) that no serious buyers were bidding on it, for whatever reason (even though it was, according to Wright's condition report, in mint shape, even if they were unable to conclusively verify its provenance). Stephani and I are both kicking ourselves for missing out on such an undervalued gem. Still, the fact that items at a "mass" 20th-century auction -- never mind all the "important" auctions last week in NYC -- are still selling for such premiums even in a down economy bodes well for the business. Stephani and I were particularly shocked at how much the Donald Deskey pieces sold for, particularly that set of twin beds. I bought several Deskey items of equal or superior quality last year at a fraction of those prices, so I'm glad they're proving to be a good investment.
I paid my first visit to the store space with the walls in place on Friday -- Tracey needed me to approve the paint color we're using on the ceiling -- and I think I even got a little misty-eyed! I'd seen it with the slab in and the very beginnings of the drywall skeleton, but not with the actual walls completed. Primary construction should be finished in a little over a week, and after that it's just a matter of obtaining a formal certificate of occupancy from the city, along with a sales-tax permit before we can formally begin operations. Granted, both Stephani and Tracey and I have a loooooong way to go in finishing everything before the store's formal July 26 launch date -- we're not even close to figuring out the store's actual layout, and I have yet to pick any paint colors for anything but the ceiling, which will be black and basically invisible (on purpose), and I don't even want to *start* to explain the drama involved with the chandelier that's anchoring the middle of the main floor space -- but it gives me a few goosebumps that everything's falling into place so rapidly. I've seen the skeleton of my front sign/awning at the sign shop building it -- that thing is friggin' HUGE btw -- but I am DYING to see what it looks like once it's installed; since the storefront is the last piece going in, the awning should be one of the final things to go up. It has my name on it, so it better be good!
I paid my first visit to the store space with the walls in place on Friday -- Tracey needed me to approve the paint color we're using on the ceiling -- and I think I even got a little misty-eyed! I'd seen it with the slab in and the very beginnings of the drywall skeleton, but not with the actual walls completed. Primary construction should be finished in a little over a week, and after that it's just a matter of obtaining a formal certificate of occupancy from the city, along with a sales-tax permit before we can formally begin operations. Granted, both Stephani and Tracey and I have a loooooong way to go in finishing everything before the store's formal July 26 launch date -- we're not even close to figuring out the store's actual layout, and I have yet to pick any paint colors for anything but the ceiling, which will be black and basically invisible (on purpose), and I don't even want to *start* to explain the drama involved with the chandelier that's anchoring the middle of the main floor space -- but it gives me a few goosebumps that everything's falling into place so rapidly. I've seen the skeleton of my front sign/awning at the sign shop building it -- that thing is friggin' HUGE btw -- but I am DYING to see what it looks like once it's installed; since the storefront is the last piece going in, the awning should be one of the final things to go up. It has my name on it, so it better be good!
Saturday, June 14, 2008
I finished my auction preview-attendance duties a bit early yesterday, so I decided to pop by the new John Varvatos store on the Bowery. This merits mention because, as discussed in various media, Varvatos took over the space that used to house CBGB's. My longer-term readers may remember that I shared a loft with CB's longtime manager for three years, and I had the privilege of not only attending Patti Smith's six-hour set (with an intermission of 30 minutes or so) on their 2006 closing night, but also viewing it from five feet from the stage (my roomie let me and her sister, who'd flown in from Atlanta for the occasion, in before they opened the room to the masses). Although it was easily the most crowded concert I've ever attended, and since Patti's entourage took over the entire back section of the bar -- which was the part that housed the bar's legendarily awful bathrooms -- I had to hold off on relieving my bladder until 3am (I would have had to go to CB's adjacent gallery space next door to use the facilities, but there is *no* way I could have made my way back through a crowd that tightly packed), it's nonetheless top-5, and possibly top-3, on my list of all-time most-memorable music performances.
It was thus with a mix of nostalgia and trepidation that I entered the new Varvatos store. It was much better than I expected, and a respectful homage to CB's and what it represented on the NYC music scene. They've kept many of the original band sticker-plastered walls, and much of the merchandise would be fitting for the likes of Joey Ramone if he had $2K or so to spend on a black leather jacket. They also incorporated a good-sized vintage collection from What Goes Around Comes Around, the city's top men's vintage store. Their stuff is great but just absurdly pricey; I had to chuckle a bit upon seeing a pair of well-worn Red Wing work boots -- I've had one for a full 17 years, and I've had them resoled, reheeled and patched more times than I can count, but I still wear them all the time -- for $350. (I think they cost about 1/4 that much new.)
Auction-wise, I achieved little success in the two I participated in today, sad to say. I'm not sure if the general public is finally catching on to the concept of buying things at auction or if I'm just getting more picky or what, but I was outbid on nearly everything I went after, and most of it went for the full estimate range or more, so I found few major bargains.
It was thus with a mix of nostalgia and trepidation that I entered the new Varvatos store. It was much better than I expected, and a respectful homage to CB's and what it represented on the NYC music scene. They've kept many of the original band sticker-plastered walls, and much of the merchandise would be fitting for the likes of Joey Ramone if he had $2K or so to spend on a black leather jacket. They also incorporated a good-sized vintage collection from What Goes Around Comes Around, the city's top men's vintage store. Their stuff is great but just absurdly pricey; I had to chuckle a bit upon seeing a pair of well-worn Red Wing work boots -- I've had one for a full 17 years, and I've had them resoled, reheeled and patched more times than I can count, but I still wear them all the time -- for $350. (I think they cost about 1/4 that much new.)
Auction-wise, I achieved little success in the two I participated in today, sad to say. I'm not sure if the general public is finally catching on to the concept of buying things at auction or if I'm just getting more picky or what, but I was outbid on nearly everything I went after, and most of it went for the full estimate range or more, so I found few major bargains.
Wednesday, June 11, 2008
An interesting conundrum presented itself at tonight's AAF preview party: what do you do if an emerging artist's work on your roster proves to be too popular? I'm gonna refrain from naming names here, even though I've probably mentioned them on earlier blog posts, but one of my favorite young artists is the Argentinian whose triptych I have featured in one of the prime spots in my living room, and I've already negotiated an informal agreement with his gallerist (one HQed in Buenos Aires, but also with adjunct galleries in NYC and Miami) to feature shows with his work and that of other excellent young artists they represent (one of whom, I found out tonight, has a major upcoming show at a NYC museum - no, not MoMA or the Guggenheim or Whitney, but a well-respected up-and-coming one). Problem: said triptych-creator artist's work is selling too quickly. Everything he had at arteBA last week was sold; everything they've shown in their galleries has sold; and the gallery practically had to beg him to produce a solitary work they could show on his behalf at AAF. (As I understand it, it's his only piece currently for sale commercially anywhere in the world. It's a variation on the triptych -- an inferior one, to be frank -- I have in my living room.) I had planned on active use of a "virtual gallery" in my client lounge area, one equipped with a high-res computer-connected screen where clients could view photos of a particular artist's work that I don't have on site but can have flown in within a matter of days, but what do I do if there's no additional work to be had?
The easy answer here is "raise prices" and "accept supply-and-demand economics," but with non-mainstream art the situation's more complicated than that (though I should note that the triptych on sale at AAF costs more than double what I bought my superior variation for last year). Not every artist is a Damien Hirst who can increase (re)production of their work to editions of 100 or more, and many artists are already uneasy with the whole art-commerce dichotomy. I didn't realize until arteBA last week that this particular artist's works had sold that well, but it raises yet another dynamic in the process I have no choice but to consider.
I'm taking a quick breather before meeting friends for drinks, but can I just say how glad I am that NYC's heat wave ended? Not that I'd say today was "cool," but it was 10-15 degrees less than yesterday and vastly less humid, so it was certainly more tolerable.
On tomorrow's agenda: my first Sotheby's preview. My dad's bought a bunch of stuff there over the years, but I have yet to step into its hallowed halls (way the hell over on York Ave., possibly the most inconvenient area in Manhattan for me to reach from my present spot just south of Houston not far from the Hudson).
The easy answer here is "raise prices" and "accept supply-and-demand economics," but with non-mainstream art the situation's more complicated than that (though I should note that the triptych on sale at AAF costs more than double what I bought my superior variation for last year). Not every artist is a Damien Hirst who can increase (re)production of their work to editions of 100 or more, and many artists are already uneasy with the whole art-commerce dichotomy. I didn't realize until arteBA last week that this particular artist's works had sold that well, but it raises yet another dynamic in the process I have no choice but to consider.
I'm taking a quick breather before meeting friends for drinks, but can I just say how glad I am that NYC's heat wave ended? Not that I'd say today was "cool," but it was 10-15 degrees less than yesterday and vastly less humid, so it was certainly more tolerable.
On tomorrow's agenda: my first Sotheby's preview. My dad's bought a bunch of stuff there over the years, but I have yet to step into its hallowed halls (way the hell over on York Ave., possibly the most inconvenient area in Manhattan for me to reach from my present spot just south of Houston not far from the Hudson).
Greetings from New York. I am spending the next week in a studio subletted from a woman whose feet have graced billboards and print ads across the globe. No, really: she's a hand and foot model, though frankly the rest of her is just as attractive, judging from our brief meeting. Like many New Yorkers, she's spending most of her summer out at her beach house.
I arrived this afternoon to 98-degree temperatures in Newark, but thankfully a thunderstorm front blew through and cooled things down considerably. It'll still be unseasonably hot for this time of year for most of my stay, but at least it won't be getting above 90, which I learned during my years living here is my breaking point. I may be a native Texan, but 90+ in the city -- add ten degrees for any subterranean subway platform, since all the subway cars passing through blow hot exhaust via their A/C units -- is ten times worse than 90 degrees in Texas (standard for May through early October for most of the state), which has ubiquitous central A/C, air-conditioned cars, mist-cooled restaurant patios and frozen margaritas at practically every restaurant in town, Tex-Mex or not, to keep the heat at bay.
After my first-ever slumber tonight in a Murphy bed -- this is a NYC studio, after all, though amazingly I've never previously seen one equipped with such a contraption -- I'm off to southern New Jersey tomorrow for the Rago preview, and hopefully back in time for the AAF launch party.
I arrived this afternoon to 98-degree temperatures in Newark, but thankfully a thunderstorm front blew through and cooled things down considerably. It'll still be unseasonably hot for this time of year for most of my stay, but at least it won't be getting above 90, which I learned during my years living here is my breaking point. I may be a native Texan, but 90+ in the city -- add ten degrees for any subterranean subway platform, since all the subway cars passing through blow hot exhaust via their A/C units -- is ten times worse than 90 degrees in Texas (standard for May through early October for most of the state), which has ubiquitous central A/C, air-conditioned cars, mist-cooled restaurant patios and frozen margaritas at practically every restaurant in town, Tex-Mex or not, to keep the heat at bay.
After my first-ever slumber tonight in a Murphy bed -- this is a NYC studio, after all, though amazingly I've never previously seen one equipped with such a contraption -- I'm off to southern New Jersey tomorrow for the Rago preview, and hopefully back in time for the AAF launch party.
Sunday, June 08, 2008
I originally planned this week's NYC trip as mostly a holiday, to spend some time catching up with old friends and enjoying some pleasant June weather while attending to just a couple of work things. Well, the forecast high temp my day of arrival is 95 freakin' degrees -- and I don't think the studio I subletted for the week has A/C -- and my schedule is now entirely booked all the way through Sunday.
There are five major 20th-century design sales this week: Christie's, Sotheby's, Phillips de Pury, Rago, and the secret estate sale I wouldn't even reveal the location of under waterboarding at Abu Ghraib. I have to hit the previews and/or actual sales for all five, although since three of them were scheduled simultaneously for next Saturday, I can't attend every auction. Then there's the Affordable Art Sale going on as well, where hopefully I can find some dealers selling non-insanely-priced work that they'd be interested in showing in Austin.
There are five major 20th-century design sales this week: Christie's, Sotheby's, Phillips de Pury, Rago, and the secret estate sale I wouldn't even reveal the location of under waterboarding at Abu Ghraib. I have to hit the previews and/or actual sales for all five, although since three of them were scheduled simultaneously for next Saturday, I can't attend every auction. Then there's the Affordable Art Sale going on as well, where hopefully I can find some dealers selling non-insanely-priced work that they'd be interested in showing in Austin.
Saturday, June 07, 2008
I'm back from Argentina, and my week in the three days since my return has been one of the craziest to date. I'm getting it on multiple fronts here: we HAVE to complete the store's construction within the next month, and we HAVE to get my furniture inventory reupholstered/refinished/repaired in time for launch, and we HAVE to make final determinations on what smaller design pieces we're going to carry and order adequate supplies of them pronto. The level of minutia involved with each task elicits emotions ranging from elation to abject frustration to admissions of defeat. Oh, and did I mention the nightmare of dealing with the Paris-based company constructing the chandelier for the center of my showroom space, a tiny startup shop that is so completely clueless to the extent that I am personally having to buy them 250 feet of electrical cable at Home Depot and ship it via two-day air express because they have no clue where to buy US-spec cabling for finishing my electrical work? (Suffice it to say, I *really* want that chandelier, but it would be really nice if, say, French businesses didn't close up shop at 4:30pm sharp on summer Fridays. So ... American of me to resent 30-hour work weeks and six weeks of annual vacation when I'm trying to get a business off the ground, I know.)
The highlight of this frenetic week, however, has certainly been starting work with Stephani, whose first official day with Kirk was Monday. Her drive, enthusiasm, dedication, and borderline-obsessive interest in the field of modern design (one that equals, and possibly rivals, my own) are not only inspiring and appreciated beyond words, but also going to totally save my ass on more levels than I can count. It's been a while since I could say I've been truly honored to be working with someone, but I will happily say it about Stephani.
The second half of my Buenos Aires trip proved to be much more fruitful than the first, and I had the opportunity during my last couple of days there to have lengthy discussions with a number of the artists I'm interested in working with. The logistics of transporting art to and fro remain daunting -- even getting the single item I purchased at arteBA, one I plan to display at the store, out of the country proved to be a nightmare even with Clay there to translate Spanish on my behalf -- but it was definitely nice to discover that photography presents far fewer issues on that front. It doesn't fall into the same bureaucratic category as "art," and thus can be shipped even via simple FedEx tube without jumping through any significant bureaucratic hoops. Also, production costs for C-prints even at the top BA printers -- which are on par, quality-wise, with New York's and Paris's best -- are a fraction of what they'd be outside of Argentina, so even a large print can be made for more like $50 instead of $500. There's also the fact that photos are nearly always reproduced in multiple editions (usually 5-10 for the better Argentinian photographers), so I could display one copy in-store and simply order new ones should a client want to buy it, without having to physically take down the one on my premises and figure out what to put on the wall to replace it.
The store itself is coming along nicely, and I had my first "hardhat tour" of the space a couple of days ago. Still, the number of daily decisions I've been having to personally make on nearly every aspect of construction -- ranging from the location of light switches to the placement of fire-alarm levers to picking out tile patterns to selecting door handles with dozens of variations, in each style, on length, thickness, edges (square or round), mounting and more -- is far more than I was expecting to have to make at this stage. I incorrectly assumed that most of them were taken care of during the architectural design process, particularly given the massive set of blueprints PSP designed for every aspect of the space.
I think I'll also mention the problem of having "too many cooks in the kitchen" on topics as seemingly simple as, say, picking out a specific toilet and sink model for the bathroom. Tracey has her views; PSP's architect has his own; and I have mine. Both of the former two have been voicing them, but the problem -- not that I disagree with their opinions -- is that they bill by the hour, and the total billable hours on their parts adds up very, very quickly. As the son of an attorney, I've always been keenly hyperaware of the billable-hour topic, and while I've never had an issue with Tracey's billing practices, I can't say the same about PSP. They're a big, corporate architectural firm, and most of their clients are big corporations who don't blink at big bills; thus, their time-management skills in terms of client billing are not what I'd call particularly focused on accomplishing tasks in the least amount of time possible, and while I clearly cannot handle things like structural engineering tasks on my own ... well, if their main project architect is doing shit like spending three (billable) hours researching toilets and sending e-mails with recommendations on the subject cc'd to six other firm principals (who also bill on an hourly basis), when hunting down a simple freakin' ADA-friendly crapper is something I can easily do on my own, then yes, Houston, we have a problem.
I'll be working throughout the weekend, partially since I'm heading up to NYC for a week on Tuesday. As noted in today's Times, there's a cornucopia of design auctions transpiring next week, and one of them is at the auction house where I've obtained much of my best stuff at fire-sale prices bordering on the ridiculous. No, it's not mentioned in that Times piece, and no, I'm certainly not revealing it on my blog! As Stephani pointed out, it's almost akin to a treasure hunter revealing the exact location of the trove of gold doubloons he's uncovered.
The highlight of this frenetic week, however, has certainly been starting work with Stephani, whose first official day with Kirk was Monday. Her drive, enthusiasm, dedication, and borderline-obsessive interest in the field of modern design (one that equals, and possibly rivals, my own) are not only inspiring and appreciated beyond words, but also going to totally save my ass on more levels than I can count. It's been a while since I could say I've been truly honored to be working with someone, but I will happily say it about Stephani.
The second half of my Buenos Aires trip proved to be much more fruitful than the first, and I had the opportunity during my last couple of days there to have lengthy discussions with a number of the artists I'm interested in working with. The logistics of transporting art to and fro remain daunting -- even getting the single item I purchased at arteBA, one I plan to display at the store, out of the country proved to be a nightmare even with Clay there to translate Spanish on my behalf -- but it was definitely nice to discover that photography presents far fewer issues on that front. It doesn't fall into the same bureaucratic category as "art," and thus can be shipped even via simple FedEx tube without jumping through any significant bureaucratic hoops. Also, production costs for C-prints even at the top BA printers -- which are on par, quality-wise, with New York's and Paris's best -- are a fraction of what they'd be outside of Argentina, so even a large print can be made for more like $50 instead of $500. There's also the fact that photos are nearly always reproduced in multiple editions (usually 5-10 for the better Argentinian photographers), so I could display one copy in-store and simply order new ones should a client want to buy it, without having to physically take down the one on my premises and figure out what to put on the wall to replace it.
The store itself is coming along nicely, and I had my first "hardhat tour" of the space a couple of days ago. Still, the number of daily decisions I've been having to personally make on nearly every aspect of construction -- ranging from the location of light switches to the placement of fire-alarm levers to picking out tile patterns to selecting door handles with dozens of variations, in each style, on length, thickness, edges (square or round), mounting and more -- is far more than I was expecting to have to make at this stage. I incorrectly assumed that most of them were taken care of during the architectural design process, particularly given the massive set of blueprints PSP designed for every aspect of the space.
I think I'll also mention the problem of having "too many cooks in the kitchen" on topics as seemingly simple as, say, picking out a specific toilet and sink model for the bathroom. Tracey has her views; PSP's architect has his own; and I have mine. Both of the former two have been voicing them, but the problem -- not that I disagree with their opinions -- is that they bill by the hour, and the total billable hours on their parts adds up very, very quickly. As the son of an attorney, I've always been keenly hyperaware of the billable-hour topic, and while I've never had an issue with Tracey's billing practices, I can't say the same about PSP. They're a big, corporate architectural firm, and most of their clients are big corporations who don't blink at big bills; thus, their time-management skills in terms of client billing are not what I'd call particularly focused on accomplishing tasks in the least amount of time possible, and while I clearly cannot handle things like structural engineering tasks on my own ... well, if their main project architect is doing shit like spending three (billable) hours researching toilets and sending e-mails with recommendations on the subject cc'd to six other firm principals (who also bill on an hourly basis), when hunting down a simple freakin' ADA-friendly crapper is something I can easily do on my own, then yes, Houston, we have a problem.
I'll be working throughout the weekend, partially since I'm heading up to NYC for a week on Tuesday. As noted in today's Times, there's a cornucopia of design auctions transpiring next week, and one of them is at the auction house where I've obtained much of my best stuff at fire-sale prices bordering on the ridiculous. No, it's not mentioned in that Times piece, and no, I'm certainly not revealing it on my blog! As Stephani pointed out, it's almost akin to a treasure hunter revealing the exact location of the trove of gold doubloons he's uncovered.