Meet The Team | Guinevere Antiques

FIND OUT MORE      REQUEST A VALUATION     CONTACT A SPECIALIST

Kevin Weaver – Director

Guinevere Antiques was the brainchild of my French mother, Genevieve, who opened the first premises in 1963, in an inauspicious looking shop at the cheap end of the famous King's Road.

I was four years old, so I can’t say that I remember the opening party, but during my first decade I became aware of the hustle and bustle of 'The Shop', as it’s always been unaffectionately known, and it was always a large part of my childhood. Genevieve would often take me to the London antiques markets: Bermondsey, Camden Passage, Portobello, when I was on school holidays, as well as the occasional trip up to Lancashire in the van. She even dropped me off at my weekly boarding school in Berkshire in the van – the headmaster was not impressed. Slowly, antiques seeped into my bloodstream, and I grew to love them and the history surrounding them.

By my early teens, I would supplement my pocket money with piecework around the shop: staining and waxing a pine dresser earned me 50p, as did cleaning all the brasswork on a brass-studded leather campaign chest. I must admit that I didn’t love most of the stock passing through the shop at that time, which mainly consisted of big pine furniture; one of my enduring smell memories is of beeswax and turpentine! I did like all the antique dealers I encountered during my childhood; larger-than-life characters from all levels of society and all parts of the world, some of whom became mentors and lifelong friends – they were always discussing what they had bought, what they had sold, and offering me all sorts of advice. I particularly remember 'If you’re going to be an antique dealer, you’ll never have private yachts or planes, but you will travel well and eat well'. Not the best sales pitch to a thirteen-year-old, but it struck a chord with me.

During my mid to late teens, I started taking more notice of some of the antiques – I still wasn’t a great lover of pine, but I was entranced by great Art Deco pieces. Genevieve had started taking me to the famous Paris flea market, which had its main trading day on a Friday, and was a better source of exotic and high-end pieces than Bermondsey. I remember one trip in the mid-1970s when she bought a beautiful black-lacquered half-moon bureau plat, dating from around 1925 – I was hooked – and I was just as excited to see it in the front window of the shop and then sold to a rather sophisticated and wealthy New York client who fell in love with it at first sight. I loved this dynamic of discovering and relishing a beautiful piece, and then sharing in the joy of the eventual buyer. I can’t think of many professions that give those levels of fulfilment.

I wasn’t an easy teenager by any stretch and spent much of my youth off the rails, eager to escape our rather dysfunctional family home. By the time I was seventeen, I had moved out, scraping by as a motorbike messenger, barman, and briefly as a road manager. Eventually, I rented a stall at one of Bath’s weekly antique markets, marking the start of a new chapter.

I would drive to London during the week and ask Genevieve what she had that was broken or otherwise unsaleable, piling it on to my stall at 5.30am on a Saturday morning. I had picked up a lot of information over the years via osmosis, without really trying to, so I often recognised pieces while wandering around the Bath and Bristol markets. I bought a pair of Clarice Cliff vases from a stallholder in Bristol for £16, and was very happy to sell them on my stall the same week for £24 (current value would be around £800) – I liked the profit, although what I liked even more was the vindication of my instinct. I did a few more similar trades, then stumbled upon a pair of French Louis XVI gilt-bronze wall lights at a fellow stallholder, for which he wanted £50. I didn’t have £50 but I knew they were worth it, so I phoned Genevieve from the nearest phone box and asked her if she would front me the money if I persuaded the vendor to hold my cheque for a few days. I showed up at Guinevere the following week, hoping to make a profit from my mother (antique dealers are like that!). Instead, she suggested I put the pieces in the shop and offered me half of whatever they sold for. She ended up selling them for £450, and that’s when it hit me - I was wasting my time on a market stall when I had the chance to work within what was already an internationally renowned antiques resource.

^{Kevin Weaver}

Guinevere Antiques was transforming from just selling within the trade to retailing directly to the wider public, which I didn’t always find as easy and was more like having to work for a living, but it was amazing seeing and dealing with some of the varied and interesting clientele. I remember one occasion when Elton John and Tom Selleck were in the shop - much to the astonishment of an American couple who had wandered in for a look - when Lauren Bacall came in. As the American couple were leaving, they asked 'is it always like this in here?'. Sometimes it did feel like we were in a film set.

Genevieve was taking a back seat in the business from the mid-1990s, but still wanted to go on far-flung buying trips.  It was on such a trip to Hong Kong and China in 2000, along with her partner, my stepfather, John Arnett, that she tragically died on the plane before we landed in Hong Kong - I was distraught and morose, and just wanted to organise her repatriation to France, but we had to wait a week as the Hong Kong authorities insisted on an autopsy. John told me that she would have wanted us to carry on with the buying trip, and he was right. We travelled up to Beijing and bought enough Chinese provincial furniture - marriage cupboards, altar tables, saddle stools and vases - to fill a container, and I made some great connections during that trip of Chinese dealers, one of which became a lifelong friend who still insists to this day that we are 'brothers'.

Guinevere has given me a rich and fulfilling life, filled with constant travel and, of course, great food (marrying a chef certainly helped with that!). However, the 20-plus years since Genevieve’s passing have been challenging, especially in managing the business - a task I’ve shared with my brother, Marc, and his wife, Heather. I’m deeply grateful to Dean Robinson, whom I hired over 20 years ago. His instinctive talent for display has been invaluable in transforming the diverse and eclectic antiques Marc and I have sourced over the years into a continuously evolving, dramatic and inspiring immersive experience.

I’m also incredibly grateful for - and constantly amazed by - my daughter, Natasha, who has worked at Guinevere since university. While she’s never agreed with a word I say, her ability to build relationships with clients and make sales has been nothing short of a revelation. I’m less skilled at managing the business, handling HR, or dealing with difficult clients than I am at sourcing great antiques. However, the maxims I’ve learned from Genevieve and other dealers still guide me: 'Buy with your eye' remains the most important, and it’s crucial to look after both your suppliers and clients. I’ve also inherited my mother's pragmatic approach of not spending money I don’t have - perhaps unfashionable, but it certainly helps me sleep at night.

It has been a difficult decision to bring the story to a close, but our hand has been forced by the business climate over the past decade. The costs of running a four-shop emporium have gone through the roof, and we have always tried to keep our pricing keen, harking back to the days when we were selling to trade buyers, which we have still managed to do through this difficult period. I still experience the thrill of discovery: I recently spotted a wonderful pair of French Louis XVI gilt-bronze candelabra at the Parma antiques fair which I assumed to be 19th century, until I showed them to my bronze restorer, the brilliant Marek Kuntz, who took them apart and showed me that they were in fact 18th century and rather rare – a matching pair are in the Victoria and Albert Museum and a third pair were at Sotheby’s a few years ago with a £30,000 to £50,000 estimate! So, I’ve come full circle from the pair of matching wall lights I bought at a Bath market stall in the early 1980s. The candelabra are in our forthcoming 'Last Hurrah' auction with Sworders, and I hope they will go to a buyer who is equally thrilled and moved by their beauty and history.

Marc Weaver - Director

Guinevere was started by my mother, Genevieve, in 1963, the year I was born.  I started work in the business quite young. I think I was 21. First in the workshops and then in the gallery a few months after. Genevieve soon started taking me on buying trips. Initially to Europe and then further afield to India, Hong Kong and the USA. It was rather difficult to grasp and not without hiccups. There is a lot to learn, and there still is. I think my first real breakthrough was when I started to argue about purchases and offered to buy things with my own money. I suppose that’s the crux of it in this business. You learn from your mistakes and put your money where your mouth is.

My mother passed away far too young in 2000. Fortunately for us, she was semi-retired, and my brother, Kevin, and I were doing a large part of the buying. Heather, my wife, was also forging her own path at Guinevere and we had two young children.

I was fortunate that dealers in far-flung places took an interest in what I was doing. They would show me their sources and pass on some tricks of the trade. Sometimes I found great buys and was encouraged to buy pieces I might not have had the courage to invest in. At other times I was really surprised at how many ugly antiques there were in the world and couldn’t wait to get away.

^{Marc Weaver © Nathaniel Davies, Fabric Photography}

I am a great believer in travelling to source things. I am often disappointed when I buy from a photo. The condition, finish, or scale are not always what you expect. I find when I am on a buying trip, I am more likely to be inspired to explore new directions by my surroundings. It allows me to be influenced in new ways and to embark on fresh paths. A case in point: in the year 2000, I was in West Palm Beach, Florida, not long after my mother’s passing, searching for antiques in the shops. There were none to be found. But the apartment I was staying in had some Paul Evans furniture. The owner was a dealer and he sold the pieces to me. This started a long association with Paul Evans pieces, and mid-century in general really, before it took off in the UK. This led to frequent visits to Florida, and eventually, we opened a concession in Selfridges to meet the growing demand.

Sometime after this, I ventured into reproduction furniture, commissioning pieces from India and China. However, I soon found I couldn't tolerate the lack of quality compared to antiques. So, that chapter ended. While old pieces require more work - being handled, catalogued, and restored on an individual basis - they are, for me, far more rewarding in the end.

I love that we have sourced across such a wide range of periods, styles and origins. The greatest thrill? Buying with your heart - or, if you prefer, your gut. Trusting your instincts and, later, seeing them proven right.

I am sure there will never be another Guinevere, nor another antique gallery quite like ours. It is an enterprise that evolved through a series of fortunate coincidences over sixty years, and I doubt that even if those circumstances were to repeat, the outcome could ever be replicated in today’s world.

Forty years is a long time, even if I have had the best job in the world. Buying in such quantity is ultimately taxing. I often refer to Guinevere as a steam locomotive that must constantly be fed at great pace to keep it going.

Closing brings many mixed emotions - sadness, knowing we will never experience those times again or see the likes of it in the future; apprehension; and, of course, some regret. Yet there is also a sense of anticipation as we look toward what comes next.

One thing is for sure though, I will miss it!

Heather Weaver - Director

I started at Guinevere in 1988. I was employed by Genevieve as I feel she saw my potential. Genevieve also told me that she had two sons working for her already and wanted some 'girl power'. At the time, I was a buyer of fabrics at Harrods. I was on something of a fast track, but with a little persuasion, left it behind me for Guinevere.  My boyfriend (Marc) was one of Genevieve’s sons, so that was a complication. But we later got married and had children (and a grandchild) and have worked together ever since.

I suppose my time at Harrods taught me a thing or two about selling. At Guinevere, though, we have always avoided the hard sell - our pieces tend to speak for themselves. That said, sales were very much my strength back then, and if you're looking for a title, I am the Director of Sales.

^{Heather Weaver © Nathaniel Davies, Fabric Photography}

I love putting people and pieces together. I have a very good memory for interiors, almost photographic. Marc is always amazed by how much of this I remember, down to the smallest details. I also take a lot of photos on my phone during my travels, and this enables me, sometimes months later, to find the right piece for the right client. A frustrated interior designer? Not really. We have always drawn the distinction of supplying antiques and not providing an interior design service. That said, I have a few long-standing clients whom I assist.

I love creating. This started with making bespoke items for clients when we could no longer find the antiques version. However, this has evolved into a range of mostly fabric-orientated lines, the mainstay of which are the dhurrie rugs, lampshades made from antique cotton saris and almost anything that involves repurposing old fabrics.

I first went to India with Marc on our tenth wedding anniversary and I was immediately captivated by the colours. I subsequently threw myself into selecting vintage and antique dhurries and started to make a small number of handwoven contemporary designs. Wind forwards 20 years and you will often find me sitting on the floor of the gallery with private clients and designers, helping and sometimes guiding people through the steps to making a bespoke carpet. I have an eye for colour and an innate sense of what goes with what. I tend to express this naturally, almost instinctively, and my clients appreciate it - they value the honesty.

I have been passionate about our work at Guinevere. We have curated the most amazing collections that take years to put together. However, we can’t sustain this pace forever. Closing the gallery will give me the opportunity to focus more on designing and creating. After a lifetime of handling exquisite pieces, some of that artistry is bound to leave its mark.

So, yes, I will miss it. But onwards and upwards.

Dean Robinson - Dean's Theory of Decorating

Albert Einstein once said 'A table, a chair, a bowl of fruit and a violin; what else does a man need to be happy?'.

Well, he may have been very clever, but he wasn’t an interior designer!

People need things; to surround themselves with objects that please them, are useful and suit their lifestyle, that tell the world who they are and who they want to be, that speak of their history, that hold precious memories and bring comfort at times when the world outside seems too much to bear.

It is in the amassing of collections, in the choosing of things that resonate with us, that we tell our own story.

This has always been at the forefront of my mind during my time at Guinevere.

My role has been to create, plan and bring to life a vision of our visual style - curating room sets, windows and showroom displays, as well as shaping our online and printed presence.

I aim to inspire, to entertain, to suggest possibilities and to demonstrate that by combining colour, texture, pattern and periods, an overall harmony can be achieved.

My approach is visceral and years of experience have given me the confidence and the ability to trust my instincts. I look at what I have to work with, think awhile, and then I know what to do.

The look is curated, layered and with an element of the theatrical, and rather glamorous, I hope.  

I am lucky, of course, to have had the most splendid haul of things to work with: gilded furniture, Venetian mirrors, Imari porcelain, crystal chandeliers and beautiful ormolu accessories.

I imagine the story of objects, the character of their owners, the lives that could be enjoyed in the displays and rooms I stage.

^{Dean Robinson}

Dictums and established notions of what ought to be done have never really concerned me - planning rooms on screen to the nearest millimetre leaves no space for spontaneity, and similarly, no amount of painting walls off-white and adding mirrors, is going to turn a small or dreary space into a larger or livelier one. All you’ll end up with is a rather boring off-white room. Far better to embrace what you have, turn a small space into a bejewelled casket, a cabinet of curiosities, a space full of layers and curated displays that embraces and makes you want to linger.

In short, always play the hand you’re dealt, but do it with a flourish and élan.

Likewise, I find pronouncements on good and bad taste rather tedious. If you like something, if it speaks to you, that is enough.

Personally, I like rooms with plenty of stuff in them, sultry lighting, rather sumptuous upholstery, rich colours, velvet and leopard, and generally, generous quantities of ormolu.

I adore ormolu, I use gold as a highlight the way others use white. Some people are rather daunted by using gold, but I am not. It adds warmth and vivacity to a scheme, I love its depth, its historical resonance and that it comes in such a range of tone and nuance.

If I had to encapsulate my style in words, it might read something along the lines of 'decadent late 19th-century French courtesan with exotic tendencies and a penchant for North Africa, The Middle and Far East', to put it briefly.

I can and have created subtle, understated looks, but for the most part it’s when I follow my instincts and present things in the way I think they should be seen, that’s what people notice and remember.

There’s actually something of an art to going over the top. Having the confidence to really build a big look, while knowing when to stop before the whole thing becomes so dazzling it’s incoherent.

I know what I’m doing and I invariably manage to catch myself.

I have always been hugely gratified when interior designers come into Guinevere and comment on how beautiful the showrooms look. The best designers in the world have always shopped at Guinevere and their approbation has meant a great deal.

People tend to spend a lot of time looking, our inventory is extensive, and I like to present a whole series of furnished rooms dressed with layers of detail. At any given time, I may have a library, a study, a boudoir, a dining room and a salon.

It is not unusual to hear clients say they want everything. I, of course, reply that everything is available, including me. Styling and interiors are my passion, and my working life will continue, in some capacity, in this field.

Guinevere is a source, sans pareil, for an eclectic array of items, those wonderful things that enhance the way life is lived. There really is nowhere else like it and, right to the very end, we offer the opportunity to emulate the look that I have had the pleasure of playing a part in creating.

I hope you find something that pleases you in this sale and, whatever it might be, that it continues to give you pleasure for years to come.

Never be afraid to add another layer - your life will be the richer for it.

Thank you and à bientôt.

Tuesday 18 February | 10am

privatecollections@sworder.co.uk | 01279 817778

VIEW FULL CATALOGUE