The actual auction room looked like the contents of twenty individual houses that had been crammed into the one small warehouse. Edwardian chairs rubbed legs with Chippendales. A sideboard was stacked high with Noritake china. Art Deco jewellery shone like crystal from a glass case. The room was so chock full of treasures that you almost had to inhale, just to squeeze past some of the object d'art.
And hovering over this treasure trove was Dalia Stanley, chief auctioneer and owner of Dalia Stanley and Co Pty Ltd, auctioneers and valuers. In between putting little stickers on antiques and checking the auction list she greeted potential bidders. But Dalia�s greeting was no simple hello. To familiar faces she would throw out a theatrical, "Hello, Darling," just like a Double Bay socialite. Sometimes she would even greet people she didn't even know.
It was at this viewing, oblivious to Dalia's watchful gaze, that we made our big slip. We noticed a magnificent bronze lamp and, foolishly, asked an assistant if a light bulb could be found to see what it looked like when switched on. Of course, once the lamp was lit it looked extraordinary. The gold lining of the shade reflected off the heroic figures of the horse and rider and lit them up in all their dazzling glory. We HAD to have it.
once the lamp was lit it looked extraordinary. The gold lining of the shade reflected off the heroic figures of the horse and rider and lit them up in all their dazzling glory. We HAD to have it.
Dalia, naturally, overheard our rapturous joy. She flitted over and gave Kevin a "Hello Darling", and agreed it was a marvellous lamp, before returning to her circuit of the showroom.
We also resumed our survey of the room. With Dalia keeping a hawk eye on everything, I was extra nervous of bumping or touching anything. The thought of accidentally knocking a Lalique vase over or even just putting dirt on a Persian rug would have had Dalia down on me in an instant. That was something I wanted to avoid at all costs, especially if we were going to make a bid.
An hour later we had made our final examination of the merchandise and decided on several items. THAT lamp was on the top of the list. Next, the leather-topped desk that was under the lamp, and a chest of draws. A few bits of silver completed the list.
Kevin said, "With a bit of luck there won't be many people at the auction". When we came back the next day, the auction room was packed with almost as many people as there was furniture and they stood, sat, and leaned wherever they could find space.
Getting over the shock of so much potential competition, it was a curious sight to see people treating the auction room like it was their own living room. Bidders unashamedly relaxed luxuriously into Gainsborough chairs, and spread themselves atop country-style dinning tables and marble topped Louis XV1 commodes.
We spied a spot in the middle of the room. Kevin grabbed a small wooden chair and I found, luckily, a big, comfortable grandfather armchair. Even with a room full of bidders there were hundreds of objects for auction and we reassured ourselves that surely not everyone would bid for the same things - especially THAT lamp.
