NEW ARRIVALS • FRESH OFF THE TRUCK • JUST LISTED • VINTAGE & MODERN • NEW ARRIVALS • FRESH OFF THE TRUCK • JUST LISTED • VINTAGE & MODERN • NEW ARRIVALS • FRESH OFF THE TRUCK • JUST LISTED • VINTAGE & MODERN • NEW ARRIVALS • FRESH OFF THE TRUCK • JUST LISTED • VINTAGE & MODERN

Lucille dabbed her lips with the corner of a linen napkin, adjusted her blouse, and gave the mirror one final glance. She didn’t trust it—at least, not entirely. It was the kind of mirror that softened sharpness, smoothed tension, gave just enough grace to...

Marianne de Villefort sat at the edge of her wrought iron bench, holding a scandalous letter in one hand and a cigarette in the other. The garden was still, save for the slow unraveling of smoke curling toward the trellis. Her maid had just...

The marble coffee table sat at the center of Simone's Parisian apartment, a silent witness to every cigarette she extinguished, every lover she welcomed, every rejection letter she read aloud before tossing it onto its cold, veined surface. Tonight, it was covered in tarot...

Professor Bellamy arranged the bookends with care, placing a weighty first edition of The Republic between them. It was a habit now—an unconscious ritual before settling into her leather chair. These marble columns had followed her from office to office, watching over a lifetime of...

Madame Duval’s desk was a study in precision—letters arranged in neat piles, a single red carnation in a crystal vase, and at the center, her perpetual calendar. Each morning, before the world demanded her attention, she turned the dials with the practiced ease of...

Marco called it "The Little Periscope." It sat on the edge of his drafting table, its flexible neck poised as if eavesdropping on his late-night sketches. It was the only thing awake with him at 2 AM—watching, listening, waiting for the next great idea...

Elena called them her "spy lamps." They looked innocent enough, sitting on her desk like a thermos of tea. But at the right moment—when the conversation shifted, when the real story started—she’d flick it open, angling the light toward her notepad. She'd been a...

Every morning at precisely 7:45, Walter flipped the date. It was a ritual, as predictable as his black coffee and the way he tapped his fingers on the desk before reading the news. March 18th. He paused. Something about it felt familiar. He glanced...

Marcel never trusted digital clocks. Too silent. Too precise. He preferred the weight of something mechanical, something that flipped forward with a satisfying clack at midnight. This little black calendar had been with him for years—quietly marking the passage of time on his desk,...

Mr. Langley adjusted his tie, tapped the cigar ash from his tray, and reached for the small brass knob on his desk calendar. With a smooth turn, the numbers clicked into place—March 18. Another day, another deal to close. It had been a gift...

Maurizio didn’t believe in clutter. His Florentine office was a study in restraint—just this desk, a chair, and a single sharp pencil placed at the exact center of the glass writing surface. Every morning, he arrived at precisely 8:00, the scent of polished mahogany...

Johan never sat in his own chairs. He had a sofa for that—an old, overstuffed thing covered in wool so scratchy it kept him awake. But these chairs? They were for guests. He liked to watch them settle in, their bodies sinking into the...

Henri never let his guests get too comfortable. His apartment, all chrome and glass, was a place for ideas, not indulgence. The chairs were a test. You didn’t sink into them—you perched, poised, alert. From these seats, he had negotiated deals, ended love affairs,...

Every Friday night, Giovanni Lombardi’s apartment became the most sought-after invitation in Milan. Architects, critics, and designers would gather around his prized coffee table—a monolithic slab of luana marble, its swirling veins of deep onyx, warm umber, and creamy alabaster resembling an aerial view...

It started as a sketch—a few intersecting lines in the margin of an architect’s notebook. A study in balance, precision, weight. Two planes meeting at a fault line, each supporting the other in perfect tension. Carved from warm, linear-veined travertine, this table captures the...

This table, nestled beneath the vaulted ceilings of Isabella's Milanese atrium was a study in form. An asymmetrical slab of warm Daino Reale marble seemed shaped not by hands but by time itself, like a river stone polished to perfection. The tapered legs were...

The wood tells its own story. Gridded end-grain pine, each block reveals years of slow, patient growth, sealed under a thick lacquer. A table built to last, to absorb the weight of elbows, wine glasses, and conversations that stretch long into the night. Frank...

This coffee table belonged to Etta, an avant-garde sculptor who relished the diversity of texture. Her loft was a revolving door of artists and critics, some admiring her work, others secretly coveting her impeccable eye for furniture. This table, a fusion of cerused oak...

This coffee table belonged to Julian, a set designer who built entire worlds out of wood, fabric, and clever lighting. His apartment was a test lab for scenes that would never be built—miniatures of cityscapes, dramatic staircases made from foam core, a single red...

These chairs once belonged to a man named Victor, an architect with a strict uniform: black turtlenecks, wire-rimmed glasses, and the quiet confidence of someone who had memorized every page of an Alvar Aalto monograph. He sat in one of these chairs every morning,...

In the waiting room of a forward-thinking architect’s office, this chair sat poised—an exercise in balance and proportion, much like the blueprints stacked on the nearby desk. Designed by Clifford Pascoe, its black wrought iron frame and walnut backrest spoke of restraint and purpose,...

We know we're not the only ones channeling our inner 80s starlet when we get ready for a night out. This vanity, with its airy lucite frame and softly glowing bulbs, can be more than just a place to apply makeup—it is a stage....

Saturday mornings in Lisa’s kitchen were sacred. The smell of fresh espresso lingered in the air as she perched on one of these stools, flipping through a dog-eared recipe book she swore she'd memorize someday. She'd swing her foot against the steel footrest, contemplating...

Coney Island, 1973. The air smelled of salt and fried dough, and Carmen leaned against her striped pedestal, counting nickels in the fading sunlight. She was the queen of the boardwalk, running her candy-striped lemonade stand with the precision of a seasoned carny. Her...

The lounge was drenched in dim light, the glow of neon signs bouncing off mirrored walls and polished chrome. These six chairs, lined up at the bar, had been silent witnesses to it all—the late-night toasts, the whispered rendezvous, the sharp laughter that cut...

He always said the couch was the best seat in the house. A place where Sunday mornings stretched into lazy afternoons, where novels were devoured, and the occasional catnap turned into a full-blown snooze. The plaid upholstery—a cool blend of slate blue and charcoal—cradled...

You can't look at these vibrant chairs and not think of the iconic green M&M, aka Ms. Green. While they most obviously have a color palette in common, that is certainly not all. These chairs, like Ms. Green, are bold, curvy, and impossible to...

This floor lamp is a bold homage to Ettore Sottsass and the Memphis School of Design—where every detail is an opportunity for expression. The adjustable height, angle, and repositionable acrylic cutout make it as versatile as it is sculptural. Ideal for interiors that embrace...

This rouge marble pedestal with its swirling gray veins and bronze accents is the definition of functional drama, perfect for holding a bust, a plant, or just your well-earned admiration. The rotating top adds a playful touch to its otherwise grandiose Art Deco Revival...

This table feels like it was made for a Haussmann-style Parisian apartment with its soaring ceilings, intricate moldings, and wrought-iron balconies overlooking the bustling streets of Le Marais. Its slender, elegant design would pair beautifully with the delicate mix of antique flea-market finds from...