by Catherine Milner, Treasure House Fair Editor As Simon Phillips sits in his Bruton Street office in Mayfair, where he has worked for over 40 years, he reflects on the changes in the furniture business since he first entered it—just two weeks after his 18th birthday. “In those days, furniture dealers were everywhere,” he says, effortlessly listing half a dozen in Mayfair alone—Mallett, Partridge—all of which have since disappeared, along with several others down the Fulham Road and King’s Road. Now, like a magnificent lone tree, his storefront window on Bruton Street gleams with golden mirrors, polished mahogany cabinets, and damask-upholstered chairs—a cabinet of exquisite treasures inviting one into another world. Thread through the gallery past a carved wood console table once owned by John Paul Getty, a Chippendale writing desk, and a pedestal from Newby Hall, and you’ll find Simon’s office tucked discreetly at the back. Sitting behind a large desk adorned with family photos and a picture of himself being hugged by a chimpanzee, it is clear he leads a fulfilling life. “I still love living with these things,” he says, gesturing toward an 18th-century mirror behind him—the one piece he insists he will never sell. “Matthew Boulton is still popular,” he adds, pointing to a pair of candle vases—ingeniously designed vases whose tops can be reversed so that they can hold candles. Simon in his office.  The first items Phillips remembers selling were two pillar dining tables. When he started, his father, Ronald Phillips, employed just one restorer and primarily traded within the trade. “Now, I employ 15 staff—two restorers, two upholsterers, gilders, van drivers, researchers etc,” says Simon. Ronald remains actively engaged with the company, albeit from his bed in his retirement home. “He’s still very interested,” Simon notes, “mainly in whether pieces he sold have come back on the market. We have one mirror in the loo that he sold in 1965!” But Simon is more than a custodian of fine objects; he is also a steward of the craft skills that originally created them. In the basement of his gallery is a large workshop, where pieces are not only restored to their former glory but meticulously researched, ensuring a depth of knowledge rarely found outside a museum. While the internet has expanded the antique furniture market, it has also disrupted it. “In the old days, an interesting piece would sell in a Yorkshire saleroom, and it would change hands five times with every dealer making a profit before reaching London and then a private client,” Simon explains. “Now, that’s all gone.” Today, he sells only the finest and rarest examples, catering to a discerning clientele who are more knowledgeable than ever and advised. Many of his pieces are distinguished as much by their provenance as by their craftsmanship. He is currently offering a Carlton House writing desk once owned by Mark Birley, founder of Mark’s Club and Annabel’s, and another previously belonging to actor Sir John Mills. Other works are identified by the stately home from whence they originated. A George III giltwood mirror from the White Drawing Room at Harewood House by Thomas Chippendale, is a prime example. Adorned with garlands of gilded wooden flowers cascading down either side of a round looking glass, it rests on two golden sphinx candleholders and is crowned by a cameo of a woman framed by fluttering ribbons. The Harewood House Mirror, English, circa 1780 The finesse of the woodcarving in such pieces would be almost impossible to replicate today—even with AI. Perhaps especially with AI. Their effortless flow and faultless execution embody an instinctual level of aesthetic judgment at every turn. Lacquer cabinets remain popular, says Phillips, and Chinese mirror paintings equally so, although possibly not now after Trump's new tariffs.  Particularly important are a pair of George II ormolu mounted Chinese lacquer commodes attributed to Pierre Langlois that once belonged to Lord Ashburnham, Master of the Great Wardrobe to King George II. “Mirrors are our biggest market, tripod tables and globes are very sought after too,” says Phillips. “I always try to stock a bit of everything.” His clientele, he observes, are the kind who appreciate rather than repudiate the patina on a mahogany dining table—the marks left by centuries of use. Many of his buyers are American, a market where it is increasingly difficult to find antique furniture that has not been stripped of its original finish. Phillips is not optimistic that his children will take over the family business. Yet his son is about to complete a university dissertation on cabinets of curiosities—objects that are seeing a resurgence in modern interiors and museum exhibitions. For a generation raised in a world of mass production and algorithm-driven content, the desire for individuality has sparked renewed interest in aesthetics and historical oddities, so perhaps the long-term outlook is not so bleak after all. Photos by Michalina Franasik

By Mary Miers, a hugely experienced writer on art and architecture, and a former Fine Arts Editor of Country Life. It’s difficult to imagine Edward Barnsley in the cosmopolitan milieu of the Treasure House Fair. The Arts-and-Crafts furniture maker would have been astonished to see his workshop’s unpretentious contemporary pieces cutting a dash amidst the stands of Old Masters and antiques, attracting on-the-spot sales in a Chelsea pavilion humming with collectors and connoisseurs. His successor, the designer-craftsman James Ryan, who now runs the company, admits that he was hesitant when he first took the Barnsley Workshop to a London fair (Olympia in 2010). ‘I felt it wasn’t our world. We’re different from the other exhibitors in that we’re both the craftsman and the seller. Yet we did so well at Masterpiece and Treasure House, had such wonderful support from fellow stall-holders and discovered a new audience. It gave us a platform for doing speculative designs. It changed our model.’  James Ryan Image courtesy of Barnsley Workshop The success is testament to the continuing relevance—indeed growing appeal—of the Arts-and-Crafts principles that underpin the Barnsley Workshop, which has been making furniture from the same premises near Petersfield for over a century. Since joining as an apprentice in 1992, Ryan has evolved the distinctive Barnsley style, creating furniture that is innovative yet restrained, contemporary in feel yet very much in the English tradition in its respect for material—notably homegrown oak and walnut—and craftsmanship of superb quality. As manager, he’s also overseen a reorganisation of the workshop, with the restoration of its original timber-drying sheds and the construction of a new machine shop—a beautiful, barn-like structure of green oak and clay tiles.  Situated on a beech-hung ridge overlooking the South Downs, the workshop was established in the remote hamlet of Froxfield by the builder/furniture maker Geoffrey Lupton, who bought some land here in 1905 and built a cottage, timber sheds and workshop. In 1919, he took on Edward Barnsley, whose father and uncle, Sidney and Ernest Barnsley, together with Ernest Gimson, had set up in the Cotswolds in the 1890s and become the most influential Arts-and-Crafts furniture designers of their day. A former pupil at Bedales, Edward helped Lupton to build and later fit out the school’s new Gimson-designed library with furniture by his father Sidney. In 1923, he took over the business from Lupton. Edward Barnsley lived a modest, rustic life here at Froxfield, working hard as a craft furniture maker while his wife Tania kept the books. He had been brought up to appreciate the beauty of handmade things and succumbed only reluctantly to automated tools once electricity and mains water arrived in the 1950s. Having extended the premises to accommodate machinery, he soon realised that, rather than being detrimental to good work, machines banished the drudgery and made the whole process quicker, allowing more time for the specialist detail. Though still rooted in Arts-and-Crafts principles, he began to experiment with laminated construction and exotic hardwoods, and to indulge his interest in 18th-century designers such as Sheraton and Heppelwhite. His furniture became more refined and curvaceous, with bow-fronted chests of drawers and serpentine cabinets with reeded inlay. The Jubilee Cabinet of 1977 encapsulates Barnsley’s later style, a piece that took his craftsmen more than 900 hours to make and can still be admired in the workshop. By the late 1970s, it was clear that the only way to secure the workshop’s future was to make it an educational trust, and so, in 1980, the Edward Barnsley Trust was formed. After his death in 1987, Barnsley’s architect son Jon, together with his daughter Karin and widow Tania, navigated the business through a tough period, but they remained committed to training young talent, proud to number among former apprentices the great British furniture designer Alan Peters. Ryan credits the workshop with giving him opportunities he’d never otherwise have had. ‘There are a quite a few places in Britain where you can get a really good training—if you can afford it. After I’d done a City and Guilds furniture making course at Highbury Technical College in Portsmouth, I wanted to study at John Makepeace’s Parnham College and applied for an application form, but they wouldn’t send me one unless I signed a letter confirming that I had £25,000. I was 19.’ By contrast, the Barnsley Workshop, where he trained from 1992-97, paid Ryan to develop his skills—'not a lot, but it meant I could afford to come here. I had no formal design training, but my experience in the workshop, first as an apprentice-employee and then as a craftsman, allowed me to think about design, function and production and I was lucky enough to be in the right place to take over responsibility for design in 2001, when Jon retired.’  James Ryan at work Image courtesy of Barnsley Workshop It's the workshop’s dual role that makes it so special. ‘We’re a commercial operation, but we’re also committed to providing opportunities for young people, helping them to maximise their potential,’ Ryan explains. ‘Many have no idea about the work ethic, what joining a team of crafts people involves, so there’s a cultural benefit, too. The cost to us in time and expense is high; if we were solely commercial, we wouldn’t be taking them on to train them the way we do.  The hope is that, after doing the one-year foundation apprenticeship, they’ll want to do a second—and third—year, and that we’ll be able to offer this and then ideally continue to employ them as a craftsperson. We try to mitigate the dropout rate through the selection process by taking on people who have already got experience of furniture making, often a two-year technical qualification from college. Happily, most of the people we’ve trained over the past 45 years are still involved in furniture making in some way. There’s no alchemy here; part of the reason we have such a good outcome is that those we take on have already demonstrated a commitment to making furniture and have the humility to acknowledge that there are still things they can’t do that they want to, and that we can offer them the specialist skills to get there.’ Despite the demise of so many Further Education courses, some good ones in furniture making have survived—Ryan singles out Moulton College in Northampton, the Building Crafts College in Stratford, East London (supported by the Carpenters’ Company) and Rycotewood College in Thame, adding that there’s also been an uptick in private course providers since Covid. But what opportunities are there for graduates from these courses?  ‘Things have improved on that front,’ he suggests. ‘With the recent dearth of skilled craftsmen coming from abroad, many firms are now going full circle and reinstating training programmes’.  The Barnsley Workshop—one of the few that has remained committed to offering apprenticeships since it was founded—currently has four apprentices and is keen to attract more women, having only had two so far, plus a female intern this year. They work alongside craftsman Andrew Marsh and craftsman-tutor Stephen Rock, both former apprentices. Ryan does all the design work, but ‘it’s their hands that are making the pieces,’ he says; ‘that’s the way they learn. I’m there every day working with them, discussing how I want something made, what joints we’re going to use. We work with machines, of course, but everything a machine does, an apprentice also learns to do by hand, so they can produce a fantastic piece in a well-equipped workshop using digital CNC equipment and the same piece in a shed with no automated tools. They’re making high-quality, sellable furniture with the Barnsley stamp while also getting valuable employment experience with all the pressures of clients’ expectations, deadlines and suchlike that come with it. This makes them eminently employable and sought after.’ Refined detail, the use of inlays, chamfers and softly curving planes are the Barnsley hallmarks.  ‘Edward was all about trying to make things flow, the silhouette and the shape,’ says Ryan, who acknowledges the influence of his predecessor on his own designs. ‘Curves are my thing; that’s where I’m taking the Barnsley inspiration. If anything, I’m making it more organic,’ he says, referencing his hand-shaped Repose Rocking Chair. ‘One of the things I’m proud of is its texture. It’s made of oak, bleached and limed to give it this lovely white cast, and because we’re working with solid wood, we can get in there with a carving chisel and create this texture. The spontaneity of the hand-carving produces the opposite effect to the highly polished, lacquered veneers so beloved of the super-yacht elite. Pieces like this have their own personality.’ Aspire III Library Steps Image courtesy of Barnsley Workshop The success of the first rocking chair at Masterpiece in 2014 identified a need for more pieces that people could buy off-the-peg. This prompted a change of emphasis in the workshop’s output, which, until then, had been largely private commissions. Ryan has now produced six versions of the chair in limited editions. He’s also developed several iterations of his perennially popular library steps, a beautiful sculptural piece resembling a ship’s prow. For the latest version, he collaborated with Bill Amberg and had the steps covered in Tuscan hide as a softer alternative to polished walnut. The fair also provides a platform for showcasing commissioned pieces, which has demonstrated the versatility of Ryan’s designs. An inlaid oval dining table made from a Sussex walnut tree inspired new clients to commission a smaller version for their flat. The Grace Chair, originally part of a set of dining table and chairs for a private house, has proved revelatory with its deeply curved, leather-upholstered back. ‘Instead of relying on photographs and descriptions, visitors to the fair can sit on it and experience a level of comfort they’d never associate with a wooden chair; we’ve received lots of orders.’ The workshop sources most of its timber from around the UK. Oak is a favourite—two oak trees cut from a mile down the road in 2022 are quietly drying in the shed—together with walnut. The size of a walnut tree is significant as its sapwood often isn’t used and the heartwood is small by comparison. Ryan’s burr oak dining table is a Barnsley Workshop star, its top made from a spectacular single board cut from a tree that provided enough wood to make several versions. A single piece of Scottish walnut provided the material for a desk that incorporates motorised lifting columns so that it can be used standing up or sitting down. ‘The dynamic of the workshop is that we’re reacting to the way people live today,’ Ryan says. Given its success among the crème de la crème of the London art world, he’s justly proud of its reputation as ‘the Saatchi and Saatchi of furniture workshops.’ www.barnsley-furniture.co.uk enquiries@barnsley-furniture.co.uk 01730 827 233 Next Workshop Open Day – 11 October, 2025  

By Simon de Burton ‘Certified, pre-owned’ has become a familiar phrase in the watch world during the past five or so years.  It refers to the sale of second-hand timepieces by the brands that originally made them, and each ‘CPO’ watch is usually offered with all the benefits associated with buying new – which means it will be in perfect working order, it will be guaranteed authentic and it will carry a warranty of up to two years. But while most major dial names only recently became involved in the business of re-selling second-hand models, one historic brand has been doing so for the best part of 18 years thanks to its unique arrangement with the highly respected dealer Somlo London – the world’s only official outlet for vintage Omega. George Somlo established the partnership with Omega in 2008, but his eponymous business can trace its roots back to the early 1970s when he cut his dealer teeth at west London’s celebrated Portobello Road antiques market. “I was born in Hungary but came to Britain with my parents when I was nine years old, in 1956 – the year of the Hungarian uprising. “We were the only survivors of the event from our family, and my parents brought us to London so I could have a better life,” says Somlo. Photo by Michalina Fransik Back in Hungary, Somlo’s father had been involved in retail and, once settled into a house in west London’s Ladbroke Grove area, he found work with a fellow Hungarian who ran a business specialising in reproduction jewellery. “My father couldn’t speak a word of English when we arrived , but he managed to sell this man’s jewellery. Eventually he took a stall on the Portobello Road and, from the age of 15, I was running it by myself every other Saturday. “Working in that environment meant you had to become a businessman, because there were so many deals going on – if you bought something at eight o’clock in the morning, it might change hands five or six times by 11!” In those days, says Somlo, there was little to no market for second-hand wrist watches, so he was mainly selling jewellery and the occasional piece of silver.  After school, however, he left the market behind, trained as an accountant and was soon recruited by IBM, then the world leader in computer production. “It was a booming business, but the company announced a relocation to Portsmouth and I didn’t want to leave my parents – so I went back to the markets, working at Portobello again as well as Bermondsey and off Brick Lane,” says Somlo. “I got stuck in and found I was really enjoying it, so I decided to try going out on my own.” The first Somlo outlet opened in 1970 in the basement of Mayfair’s now-defunct Bond Street Antiques Centre, before moving to an upper floor and then expanding into new premises in Piccadilly Arcade where it remained for 23 years. “At the beginning I was selling silver, a bit of jewellery and some antique pocket watches, but I realised that, in order to move up-market and be really successful it was necessary to specialise,” says Somlo. "In those days, no one really had any interest in wrist watches – only a few clever people who could see what was coming in terms of rising values and collectability. But, as the market changed, we evolved and began selling them alongside pocket watches.” Somlo’s competence in the genre ultimately attracted the attention of Omega, which suggested forming a partnership that would make the business the only outlet in the world officially sanctioned to sell the brand’s vintage creations. “I was very happy with the idea of the association, but we clearly needed a much larger shop so that half could be devoted to Omega and the other half to other brands that we sell, such as Patek Philippe, Vacheron Constantin, Piaget and Cartier,” explains Somlo. ‘Somlo London’ and ‘Omega Vintage’ took up residence in Burlington Arcade in 2006 and has since become the ‘go to’ outlet among those in search of the best of the best of the brand’s pre-owned pieces. “The business is unique in the world of vintage Omega, because we have a full-time watch maker and restorer on-site who is employed by Omega, and we receive all our parts directly from the manufacturer in Switzerland.” Somlo was undoubtedly instrumental in shining the spotlight on the collectability of Omega’s vintage pieces, the values of which have roughly tripled across the board in the past 20 years. Photo by Antonio Salgado But, despite having established a reputation for the quality of its pre-owned wristwatches (Omega and others) Somlo remains a valued hunting ground for pocket watch enthusiasts and keeps a stock of models dating as far back as the 17th century. “There are very few pocket watch specialists left today – and we also go right back to the dawn of the wristwatch in the early 20th century,” says Somlo. When it comes to the most collectable vintage Omegas, however, Somlo senior refers to his son, Daniel, to identify the nuances of specific pieces and to value them accordingly. He, too, considered a different profession – in this case, as an architect – before returning to the family business. Courtesy of Somlo London Having studied horology at the University of Birmingham before completing the renowned Watchmakers of Switzerland Training and Educational programme (WoSTEP) in Manchester and then working for two years at an Omega service centre, Daniel is well qualified to buy, sell and advise on watches of all makes and types. Of late, he observes, there has been a shift away from the larger, more statement-making sports watches that became popular during the early 2000s and a return to more classic styles. “The rare, early Speedmaster models from the 1950s and ‘60s remain among the most valuable Omega watches we stock, and they can sell for anything between £60,000 and £90,000,” he says. “But we’re seeing an increasing demand for the brand’s smaller, more classical Constellation and Seamaster models.” And those who don’t have a five-figure budget to spend on a vintage Omega shouldn’t despair – according to Daniel, one particular model that remains largely under the radar but which is gradually picking-up followers is the unusual Chronostop single-button chronograph. “They start on the low side of £3,000 and can be had in some really attractive variations, from a special driver’s model to others with lovely, coloured dials in blues and greens. They are all manually-wound and use good quality movements. “And,” he adds, “the equivalent modern Omega of this quality would cost more than twice as much….”