Recently I was in Brussels reporting an article about the city’s antiques and vintages stores. I tend not to shop while I work. It’s not really cost effective, plus, I’m already carrying a map, camera and notebook. But I made an exception for this oddball lamp—for 33 euro, which I found at La Patine. Couldn’t be, I thought. It’s clearly handmade, and has new wiring and a fresh shade. I asked again, and the shopkeeper confirmed the price and encouraged me to return Sunday so the owner could tell me the story behind it. I left with the lamp and vowed to return. But I probably shouldn’t have…
Because it turns out it was all a big misunderstanding. It only took a few seconds of chatting with the shop owner before my new Belgian friend Dani relayed to me that something was terribly off. The lamp was meant to sell for $300—it’s an Art Deco original—but the shopkeeper mistook the auction lot sticker for the price tag. Dani, quick on her feet, blurted out something about journaliste américaine, which I can only assume translated roughly to broke ignorant. Seemed to work. The owner was heartened that I planned to include the shop in my article and called it even.
