Antique terms get used everywhere — in antique shops, auction catalogues, and online listings — and they often sound more important than they are. Words like “patina,” “spelter,” and “vermeil” get thrown around constantly, but unless you already know them, they don’t tell you much. This antique glossary breaks down the most common antique terms, including materials, furniture styles, decorative techniques, and collecting terminology used by dealers and collectors. It’s a straightforward reference to help you understand what you’re looking at, whether you’re browsing antiques, researching a piece, or reading a listing. No over-complication — just clear definitions of antique terms so you can recognise them when you see them. Image courtesy of Unsplash.com A Acanthus – If it’s covered in curling leaves and looks suspiciously Roman, congratulations, you’re looking at an acanthus motif. The Greeks loved it, the Romans stole it, and now, it’s on everything from furniture to plaster molding...

There was a time when you could buy a box of old tat at a village auction, wipe the nicotine off a brass horse, stick it in the window, and some retired policeman from North Yorkshire would appear three days later waving cash and smelling faintly of pipe tobacco and resentment. That world is wobbling now. Not dead. Just changing its coat. And if you spend your days, as I do, knee-deep in house (estate) clearances, boot fairs, auction rooms, and the strange online gladiator pit known as eBay, you start to notice the shift. Slowly at first. Then all at once. The old reliable stock starts sitting longer. The figurines stare at you for months. The Victorian side table you would once sell in a week now develops roots. Meanwhile some rusty industrial lamp that looks like it survived a Soviet submarine fire sells in fourteen minutes to a man in Hackney called Luca who drinks coffee that tastes like burnt roofing felt. The market has changed. And honestly? Some of it was inevitable. M...

At first glance it looks simple enough: a small metal cup decorated with cattle and a few unfortunate men. Pleasant. Decorative. Perhaps the sort of thing you might place on a shelf next to a Greek history book and a decent bottle of wine. But the design on this object carries a story that begins more than three and a half thousand years ago , in the Bronze Age world of the eastern Mediterranean. The original version of this cup was not made for decoration or tourists. It was made for someone important enough to be buried with solid gold . And judging by the craftsmanship involved, they were very important indeed. This object is a replica of one of the famous Vapheio cups , a pair of extraordinary gold vessels discovered in a tomb near Vapheio in Laconia, Greece , in 1889. The originals date to roughly 1500–1400 BC , during what historians call the Late Bronze Age , when the cultures of Minoan Crete and Mycenaean Greece dominated the Aegean world. Today the original cups sit safel...

In 1867, while Europe was inventing telephones, laying railways, and discovering germs, southern Italy was busy turning molten rock into saints. Progress comes in many forms. This small relic — a medallion cast from Vesuvius lava — bears the face of Francesco de Marchi , Bishop of Krk. A man long gone, resurrected two centuries after his death. A portrait forged by fire, belief hardened by geology. Obverse of the medallion Reverse of the medallion A Bishop Remembered Francesco de Marchi was born in 1610, when theology outranked science and bishops ran islands like small kingdoms. Appointed Bishop of Krk — then part of the Venetian Republic — he spent his life balancing faith, politics, and diplomacy across the Adriatic. He wasn’t a saint, didn’t perform miracles, and never met a martyr’s end. He simply did the job, which in the 17th century was no small feat. He governed, wrote letters, and kept peace between Rome and Venice until his death in 1667. Then, two hundred ye...