Tag Archives: Georges Briard

Heart Of Glass

I don’t know if I’ve ever mentioned it before, but over the past few years I’ve developed a strong interest in a particular style of glassware. It all started several years ago when I set up my cocktail cabinet (See “Hey Manhattan”). I bought six of each of the required glass styles and thought  myself pretty well set up. My then girlfriend then convinced me to ditch the standard stuff in favour of something a bit more impressive. You see, she was very much of the opinion that what you drink out of is as much a part of the experience as what you drink, and suggested I invest in something else.

As a result of some digging around on Etsy, I came across the work of Georges Briard. He was unknown to me at the time, but I could see that his work really stood out and so I bought three sets of his glasses, all in the same style. For those of you who don’t know, Briard was a a mid century modern (MCM) designer who produced glassware from the 1950’s until the 1970’s which was sold at such outlets as Neiman Marcus.

All was well and good, and I derived a great deal of satisfaction from using them. As cash has been rather tight over the past few years I haven’t added to my collection, but that all changed a few weeks ago.

Just before the whole world turned to shit, my sweetheart flew down to Palm Springs to visit her cousin. Being the incredibly generous soul that she is, she wanted to bring something back for me that was better than a tee shirt. I understand that Palm Springs has more than it’s fair share of antique stores, and while browsing she found what she assumed would be the perfect present for me. Without telling me too much, she asked about “The guy whose glasses you like”, so I could tell where her mind was going, so I told her and left it at that.

She later sent me a picture of a set of glasses and asked me what I thought. Take a look for yourself.

 

As she was on a tight schedule I answered her immediately and she snapped them up. Only later did I learn the full story. In addition to buying me eight of these glasses, she also bought me six of these:

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Just so you know, this is a Double Old Fashioned, so it holds twice as much as a regular glass. Naturally, I was blown away by them, as I just love Briard’s use of gold in his work. Bringing them back on the plane was a bit of a hassle for my sweetheart, especially as the bag broke just as she got to the airport. Such was her plight that upon disembarking, she went straight to the Coach shop to see if she could buy a bag from them. As small acts of kindness go, giving someone a bag isn’t a big deal, but I do appreciate them for just giving my sweetheart a very sturdy paper shopping bag in which to put all the glasses.

You can imagine my delight when she got home, not just because I hadn’t seen her for five days, but the fact that I now had more glasses than I knew what to do with, resulting in me reorganising my sideboard to make room.

But wait, there’s more. We’d been looking on Etsy and she’d seen a set of glasses that she thought might appeal to me, and she was right. The problem was that the shipping was more than the glasses, so I passed up the opportunity but still left them in my cart, as did she, just in case. Guess what?  Last week she asked if I was still interested in the glasses, largely due to the fact that they’d caught her eye as well. I said yes, and so she ordered them. I asked her how much I owed her, but she just waved it away, saying that she’d pay as it was her idea. She’s a wine drinker and has no use for Lowballs, Highballs, Collins’s or Old Fashioneds, so it was doubly heartening that she would do this for me. As a result, I now have another six Double Old Fashioned glasses in my collection.

 

Yeah. I know. I understand now how people end up dying surrounded by thousands of commemorative Victorian teaspoons, match books or toy robots, but least I can use the glasses. You see, I don’t regard myself as a collector, but as a appreciator, if there is such a thing. I don’t buy them just to have them and look at them, but to use them for their stated purpose. I really don’t see the point of having something and not being able to use it. And I have to admit that my former girlfriend was correct. What you drink out of DOES matter as much as what you drink.

In a way, I’m glad I don’t have the money to indulge my love for Briard’s work, as I would need an aircraft hanger to store them all, and maybe that’s for the best, mind  you, I have a pretty good idea where my stimulus check money will be going…

 

 

 

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We Gotta Get Out Of This Place

How do you feel about crossover episodes? You know, the sort of T.V. episode that starts out as usual but quickly turns into a 30 or 60 minute infomercial for another show entirely. Of course, I excuse the annual Homicide / Law And Order episode from this question as Homicide was without doubt the greatest show of all time. In general I despise them as a cynical bait and switch, as the  show it  introduces is in general much, much worse than the originator, and the producers know it. For example, who ever watched Boston Legal, the spinoff from The Golden Girls or even Laverne and Shirley? Yeah, not even in TBS late night reruns when you were too drunk or stoned to get off the sofa.

Having said all that, this is a crossover episode wherein the posts about my romantic life meet the episodes about my domestic existence. As you are no doubt not aware, I have moved several times over the past five years. See The Boxer, Space Oddity and Should I Stay Or Should I Go for quick updates. A few months ago my finances were such that even affording the rent for what was a fairly bare bones townhouse was looking like an increasingly long shot, even though I’d pared my other expenses to the bone and beyond. See Ice Ice Baby for more detail.

Since meeting my sweetheart we had been spending an increasing amount of time together, mostly  me spending the night at her place, although she spent several nights and weekends with me whenever time allowed, with the effect that pretty much from the start we were a two location household. She was well aware of my financial situation and had suggested that maybe we could find a solution. My natural smart arse response was to say that I doubted I could raise enough money selling plasma nor was I ever likely to get my street corner back at my age. However, reading between the lines I could see what she was getting at. At the end of March we went out for lunch after I’d helped her with some house organising and across the table she asked me what I thought about combining our households.

Naturally, this is what I’d seen coming and so agreed readily. That was the easy part, as we were spending most of our time together anyway, with my house relegated to a pit stop for clean work clothes and sundries on my way to or from work. I hate packing, but at least now I knew I was moving to somewhere nicer and would no longer be returning to an empty house after a long day’s work. It was clear from the start that quite a bit of stuff would have to go into storage in order to clear room and make it possible to unpack and organise the stuff we needed the most. Of course,  being the one moving in, that meant I had to spend every evening and morning packing, loading the car and unpacking endless boxes of books, clothes, bedding, etc. As I’d given my notice to the property management company at the start of April, that meant I had barely four weeks to get everything done.

However, get it done, I did, even though I ended up simply cramming the last few items and cleaning materials into the car after spending half a day bringing the house up to an acceptable standard of cleanliness. I admit to being very tired by the time I got home and I did the bare minimum of unloading once I parked before collapsing in a heap on the sofa. Of course, this was far from the end of it. The new house of course was littered with boxes and items of furniture which needed to be unpacked or put in place. Our first weekend was spent doing just this, with my first task being to put all my cups in the kitchen cupboards and place my Georges Briard glasses and other glassware in the sideboard, which I also restored to it’s former glory by adding all the mementos that had graced it in it’s previous location.

It’s been a busy few weeks, but now I’m pretty well settled, and for the first time in many years I now  live somewhere that is truly a home,  rather than my last three residences which at best could be regarded, in the words of Le Corbusier, as “A machine for living in”. I can’t tell you how much better I feel knowing that every day I return from work to the woman I love and a true home. It has done wonders for my mental state, as has finding myself in a warm, supportive and loving relationship with a truly wonderful woman. I consider myself very lucky indeed.

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