The great 20th century jewelry makers such as Cartier, Van Cleef & Arpels, and Tiffany are among the top in the field for good reason. Their history, craftsmanship and status in the canon is secure. They are rightfully among the most sought after pieces in the collector market. And their prices reflect this demand, leaving less opportunity for collectors. The sophisticated buyer, at this point, begins to look elsewhere.

Markets are not neutral. They are made of people who carry their histories, aesthetic allegiances, and cultural memories into the auction room. A colonial-era needlepoint sampler made in Pennsylvania carries the particular domestic life of the mid-Atlantic and one that resonates most with buyers whose own sense of the past shares those environs.

This is the quality that the auction market has been pricing, with increasing conviction, for the last several years. It is what sophisticated collectors have understood for as long as they have been collecting. It is not sentiment or nostalgia. It is something closer to what historians mean when they talk about primary sources: the irreplaceable authority of the thing that was actually there.

Costume jewelry, non-precious, playful, and sometimes theatrical, seemed unlikely to achieve cultural significance and collectable value. Yet it has.

There are rooms that are simply rooms, well-appointed interiors that are tasteful and reflect the owner’s persona. Then there are rooms that become environments mixing collections, design and emerging artistry with a vision that makes them timeless.

There is a particular kind of influence that does not announce itself. Elsie de Wolfe understood this before anyone had a word for it.

The story of the DESTE Foundation does not begin with a collection. It begins with an idea that engagement with art could exist before ownership, and that context could be built before objects were acquired.

Most undiscovered treasures sit quietly tucked away. They are misfiled, inherited, stuck in a trunk or attic, only to languish with disregard. They are not waiting to be found. They are waiting to be recognized. Discovery, in these cases, is not about luck. It is about the expertise and training of appraisers and collectors who ask, “Could this really be what I think it is?” Then, the work begins.

Luxury is a word of many concepts, shifting interpretations that mirror culture, wealth, time, and personal values. What once signaled excess now often signals restraint. What once required money now sometimes requires perspective.

To dress with intention is not simply to look good. It's to align what you wear with who you are at that moment. The outfit becomes less about presentation and more about curation. You are asking, consciously or not: What does this moment require of me? And what version of myself am I stepping into? This is where intention begins to extend beyond the wardrobe.

Taste does not arrive all at once, nor does it come from simply being around beautiful things. It develops slowly, almost quietly, through a series of shifts in how you see, interpret, and choose. What people often call “becoming cultured” is less about exposure and more about learning how to perceive with precision and decide with intention. In the appraising field, we study for years and often over the course of a lifetime.