Foulkes states
I have a theory as to why the show must go on. In the climate of neopuritanism that discourages people from spending even if they have the money, only a totally insensitive fool would splurge on a new jet or a flashy holiday villa. However, purchasing art has the benefit of bestowing a cultural and intellectual halo on the shopper: one is more likely to be seen as a connoisseur rather than a fashion victim.
Auction houses have been clever in creating comfortable luxury experiences for people who would have shunned the salesroom a decade ago. The atmosphere is somewhere between a cocktail party, a premiere, and a high-end boutique. As Linley explains, "The theater starts when you walk in and are greeted, seated, and given a paddle. When the great auctioneer gets to the stand, the room goes into a hush—rather like the opening night of an opera—and for the next hour or two it is his job to entertain, and to get bids out of people who may be wavering." Just as a high-end fashion retailer will extend private shopping services to good clients, so an auction house will go to great lengths to treat its special customers well. Linley holds discreet lunches for collectors and experts in his King Street boardroom, and will on occasion allow customers to borrow a piece and see if it fits the space they have in mind. But, beneath all the sophistication and schmoozing, there runs the visceral current of competitiveness. Says Linley: "The only way to get to the bottom of what a piece is really worth is to get a lot of people in the room and watch them fight it out."
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