Desktop delights
My longtime readers from way back know me as a collector of vintage fountain pens—and maybe of typewriters and antiquarian books as well. You’d think that would have kept me busy enough, but as all collectors know, it never ends with what you already have. The eye strays, new interests emerge, and whimsy soon turns into obsession, manifested in haggard looks that follow a night’s forays on eBay.
These past few months—all because of a chance encounter with a vintage brass rocker blotter at a flea market in Paris when we visited last April—I fell into the black hole of vintage writing accessories, and I still can’t see the bottom.
Of course, with my previous collections all linked to the writing trade, this was probably bound to happen. I mean, there’s more to the vintage table than pens and books, right?
If you have pens, then you have inks, ink bottles, inkwells, the aforementioned blotters (rockers and rollers), staplers, tape dispensers, pen trays, paperweights, letter holders, letter openers, etc. And let’s not forget the picture frames, gooseneck lamps, rotary phones, and steel-bladed fans that filled the rest of the acreage.
The nostalgic impulse behind this madness seems to be the recreation of our fathers’ desks, or our imagination of them. Whether boys or girls, we sat in their swivel chairs and rocked ourselves, our heads barely bobbing above the mahogany horizon. Instinctively we understood that we were in the seat of power, especially in those pre-feminist times when dads went to offices and moms stayed at home.
At least that’s how it works for me. My mythical prewar or midcentury modern (MCM in antiques parlance) desktop is now much larger and more crowded than my father’s office table ever was; but oh, what a gorgeous overflow it is of Art Nouveau, Art Deco, and Art Moderne beauties.
Like I said, this began when Beng and I found this huge brass ink blotter at the Porte de Vanves flea market in Paris, followed by a couple of others. Now, hardly anyone uses a blotter these days, or even knows what it is, and that’s because people stopped using fountain pens, which used ink that took a long time to dry. Blotters mopped up the excess ink, which you otherwise had to blow on or wait minutes to seep fully into the paper. As life sped up after the war, ballpoints, felt tips, and rollerballs with quick-drying ink took over, and blotters took a back seat. But with the recent resurgence of interest in fountain pens and the plethora of new inks available, blotters are back in business—and their charm as art pieces rediscovered by a whole new generation.
Ink bottles have always been collected on their own quite apart from pens, from their early versions in pottery and pewter to high-end cut glass and crystal. (Some inks themselves have become rare and collectible, such as the legendary Sheaffer’s Persian Rose from the 1950s and even the modern Montblanc Carlo Collodi and the original Lamy Dark Lilac.) Beyond individual bottles, inkwells often come in pairs, on ornate brass or smooth marble or carved wooden stands; they can be glass or porcelain inserts set in brass or porcelain, with a pen rest in front. Having been meant for dip pens, today they would be mostly decorative.
Desk pens and pen sets, however, remain functional. In our fathers’ time, they were the hallmark of consequence, a signifier that pens were meant for important signatures. Here, often more than the pens, the bases—usually marble, onyx, metal, or bakelite—provide artistic value. Art Deco desk sets from the 1930s and 1940s are most impressive, as well as those with figural elements such as animals.
Trays for pens, paper clips, stamps, erasers, and such other 20th-century staples (and yes, let’s not forget the real staples and staplers) were produced in brass, wood, glass, and bakelite. Even these were turned into art pieces, and one by Tiffany could set you back a thousand dollars.
Not having that kind of money, I loiter around eBay—the world’s largest flea market—looking for these obscure objects of desire at prices I can afford, and I’ve even taken to buying and selling them both to pay my way and to share the bounty with friends. I don’t always get what I want —who would have thought that I would dream of rocker blotters and desk pen sets—but the quest itself is often worth it, the continuing discovery of treasures from the pre-computer, pre-cubicle past, when desktops were displays of taste and style and when you thought hard before putting indelible ink to paper.
