COURTESYRIADKNEIFE
I’denjoy(hewasrightonthisonetoo— it’s
abrilliantread).
I’dbeentotheParisfleamarketdozens
of timesthroughtheyears,butaswevis-
itedaselectionofKneife’s favoritedealers
onarainySaturdaymorning, including
BenjaminBaillonandJean-LucFerrand, it
feltbrand-new—andthenIrealizedwhy:
Ihadanexceptionallyskilledvisualeditor
whowase
cientlytailoringthedaysothat
I’dgetasmuchoutofeveryhouraspossible.
EverytimeIsawanythingthat inter-
estedme,Kneifephotographed it. “Even if
youdon’tbuy it,Alec, itmightgiveyouan
idea forsomethingelse,”hesaid.
“Youknowthetypeof lookyouwant for
youro
ce.Youcanshopthroughthemany
companiesthatdoreproductionsofmid-
centuryFrench furniture,”hecontinued,
explaining(he laterprovidedmewitha list
of thesame), “butwhatwillgive itcharac-
ter istheonebrilliantoriginalpiecethat
setsanauthentictone foreverythingelse.”
Weshoppedallmorningandsawsome
spectacular furniture—astreamlined
steeldeskthathadoncebeenona factory
floor inthenorthofFrance, some lamps
fromthe lobbyofamovietheater in
Toulouse,agorgeous1951poster forthe
Holland-Americasteamship line—but
Ihadn’tyet foundanythingIwantedto
buy.Sowebroke for lunchatMaCocotte,
aPhilippeStarck–designedrestaurant
whereKneife isaregular.
We’d justtucked intoourroastchicken
andabottleofgoodBeaujolaiswhena
colleagueofKneife’sstoppedbyourtable
tosayhello.Kneife introducedusand
toldhimIhadmyheartsetonfindingan
undiscoveredtreasureofgreatFrench
midcenturydesign.Themanraisedhis
eyebrows. “Whatexactlyareyou looking
for?”heasked. Idescribedthe ’40sor ’50s
vintageFrenchfloor lampIenvisionedsit-
tingnexttotheDanish leatherarmchair in
myhomeo
ce.He jottedsomethingdown
onapieceofpaper,handed ittoKneifeand
said, “Eatquickly, skipdessert.”
Twentyminutes later,wewerepeering
intothebackofavanonanearbyside
street.Adealer fromthesouthofFrance
hadtwooriginalRobertMathieu“Diabolo”
floor lamps,andbothKneifeandI im-
mediatelysensedhewasn’tentirelyaware
of theirvalue.Theman insistedKneifebuy
both lamps for$400,whichhedidwith
alacrity.
Afterward, IsaidIonlyneededone.
“Areyousure,Alec?”Kneifeasked. Iwas
sure. “They’reworthsomemoney,”Kneife
insisted. ItoldhimthatIwashappytogo
homewithmysingletreasure for$200,
andIwas. In fact, Iwaselated,andnot
onlybytheDiabolofloor lamp,nowone
ofmymostprizedpossessions,butbythe
fascinatinghigh-voltagedayI’d justspent
withKneife.
Aday later,Kneifesentmea linktoa
dedicatedprivateWebpagewith impres-
sivelydetaileddescriptionsandphoto-
graphsofeverythingwe’dseentogether.
“This is foryourpersonalreference,”he
added. “Letmeknow ifyouwanttomove
forwardonanyof these items,”hewrote
intheaccompanyingnote.Healsoasked
yetagain ifIwantedthesecondRobert
Mathieufloor lamp, sincewe’d found it
inthecontextofmyprivateshoppingday.
“No, thanks,”Iwroteback. “It’sallyours.”
Kneife latertoldmehe’dsold it for
$2,400toagalleryspecializing inmid-
centuryFrenchdesign,andas farasI’m
concerned,heearnedeverycentime.
ALEXANDERLOBRANO
is theauthorof
Hungry forParis
(RandomHouse) and
Hungry forFrance
(Rizzoli).
FROMLEFT:
Allée2of Saint-Ouen’s
MarchéPaul Bert; a collectionof
vintagepieces— includingaportrait
ofMarlonBrando shot at the famous
StudioHarcourt inParis; apair of rare
art deco (1930) bronze leopards that
once sat ona staircase inagrand
Parisianmansion
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