Falling in Love with Antiques—and Paintings in Particular

If you’ve followed me for a while, you’ll know how much I adore hunting for antiques—especially French antiques. I was born in Britain, but I didn’t grow up surrounded by heirlooms or brocante treasures. My passion for antiques developed slowly, and entirely thanks to my years living here in France.

I remember when my soon-to-be husband and I moved into our first apartment in Paris. We owned very little furniture and had a modest budget. The local brocante fairs became our best source for charming, affordable pieces. These markets introduced me not just to vintage furniture, but to a whole new world – filled with character, history, and craftsmanship.

Whether it was a rural brocante in a grassy field or a bustling antique market tucked into a Paris street, I found myself constantly learning. I discovered how to negotiate, how to recognise quality, and how to develop my own style. More importantly, I began to fall in love with the idea of collecting. With time, I got better at buying and more knowledgeable, and of course I knew more and more dealers personally.

It wasn’t long before I realised that paintings were my greatest weakness. Antique paintings, especially landscapes, have a way of pulling me in. Even though our walls are full today, I still find it hard to walk away from a beautiful canvas. There’s something deeply personal about owning a painting. Unlike a piece of furniture or linen, it often feels like you’re taking home someone’s memory.

Most of the paintings I collect date from the late 19th century, when plein air painting was not only popular but part of everyday life in France. Back then, before television or social media, creativity was a daily habit. People sketched, painted, played music, or carved wood, regardless of age or gender. A typical Sunday might include packing a stool and easel to paint a favourite countryside view or a local building.

Many of the antique paintings in our home were never meant for galleries. They were painted for pleasure, and that’s what makes them so charming. Each one adds warmth, character, and memory to our space. They remind me of a quieter time and the joy of simple, creative expression. In a world that moves fast, these humble antiques invite me to pause and savour the beauty around me.

Do you have a favourite antique in your home, or a piece that tells a special story? I’d love to hear about it in the comments.