David Ekerdt at the University of Kansas is a personal hero of mine. He is a professor of sociology and gerontology who has focused his academic career on understanding why we keep stuff. He has spent his career interviewing and studying people, digging into their attachment to their belongings and trying to understand why we love our things so much. He has come up with a list of the top reasons we keep things:
It seems useful.
We think it is worth money.
It gives us pleasure.
It represents us.
We may need it one day.
It was a gift.
Conservation is a virtue.
Legacy – we want to leave things to people when we die.
We keep because we can.
I can’t decide which reason I like the best. I love them all because they all help me understand my clients, and myself, better. But the one that gets to me the most is the second one. We keep a lot of things because we think they are worth money.
We see this constantly. I’d say that this topic practically comes up on a daily basis as we are managing senior moves. I remember Gertrude, one of my first clients, fifteen years ago, had a painting hanging in her hallway. The very first time I met her, before she even showed me into her living room, she paused at the painting and said “this is worth a lot of money.”
We had a lot of work to do to prepare for her move. Her husband had dementia and she and he were making a very large move to Texas to be near their daughter. Back then, I used to do all the sorting myself (something our excellent staff does now) so I spent hours and hours sorting through clothes, closets, kitchen cabinets, and closets with Gertrude. And every time we passed the painting in the hall, she told me it was worth a lot of money.
Finally, one day I asked her about it. I asked her where she bought it and how she knew it was worth so much. She replied that she didn’t remember where she got it. She thought it might have belonged to a friend who moved. And she didn’t know the artist’s name, either. There wasn’t a signature or any other markings.
The reason she knew, without a doubt, that it was worth a lot of money is that her neighbor’s sister worked at an antique store and told her one day that it was valuable.
I tracked down the neighbor’s sister and sent her a photo of the painting. She replied with a short note: “I remember that piece of Gertrude’s. I thought it was pretty. I was sure I could sell it for a couple hundred dollars in my shop, but I had to close the shop a few years ago. People stopped coming in.”
We see this all the time. Movies, TV, and novels have inundated us with stories about an old, seemingly junky belonging tucked away in a closet that’s actually worth a king’s fortune. It’s a good story, this is why it shows up on so many reality TV shows. Unfortunately, it doesn’t happen very often in reality. What happened in this case is much more common.
The shop-owner made an offhand comment about a piece being valuable. She was thinking she could sell it for maybe $400. She’d make about $100 in commission and Gertrude would make about $300. But Gertrude heard the word “valuable” and started believing she stumbled on that legendary golden ticket. She was thinking in the tens of thousands, Meanwhile, the window for even the low payday had closed. Things do not get more expensive simply because they’re older. There’s a right time to sell something. Clearly, the type of items the shop-owner was selling had gone out of fashion. She had to close her store and, with it, the likelihood of selling the painting.
I still did some due diligence. I sent the photo to a few auction houses and dealers to see if there was any chance of selling it. None of them saw any value. Nothing. It was really hard sharing this information with Gertrude. I could tell she didn’t believe me. She kept the piece. We moved it to Texas. I don’t believe she intended to hang it in her new home. I don’t think she particularly liked the painting. She had just become attached to the idea that it was valuable and couldn’t accept donating it.
A few years ago we were hired by Mary to empty her Aunt Fran’s apartment after she died. Fran had lived independently in Brooklyn, far from any other family. Mary used to love visiting her and was visibly upset by her death.
Mary was realistic about the fact that there wasn’t much of value in the apartment. She mostly just wanted to make sure we found any hidden family photos or jewelry, and she wanted us to donate as much as we could. But the first time she took us to the kitchen she hesitated and pointed to the lamp hanging above the table.
“This isn’t a Tiffany lamp, is it?” she asked. She seemed almost embarrassed to be asking, but there was also almost a pleading in her voice. It was most definitely not a Tiffany lamp. It looked like it was factory-made and was, in fact, not even made of glass. But Fran had told everyone, for years, that it was by Tiffany. She had warned Mary to make sure she got a good price for it someday, and not get swindled by some dealer looking to profit off of the lamp.
We always do need to check these things out for our clients so I sent photos of the lamp to an appraiser and asked if there was any chance it was by Tiffany, or even valuable. She confirmed that this was a manufactured lamp, probably factory-made. And she thanked me for giving her a good chuckle on a rather grim day.
When I told Mary (leaving out the part about the chuckle, of course) I could tell she was not at all surprised, but she was clearly disappointed. She joked that she was actually glad her aunt was dead because this news would have killed her.
A lot of our clients think their things are worth a lot of money because they paid a lot of money for them when they bought them. They can remember, sometimes to the dollar, how much they spent on something thirty years ago or more, and they assume it is worth even more now.
The sad thing about art, or furniture, or jewelry, or anything we own is that they are only worth money two times: when you buy it and when you sell it. When you buy it, it is worth exactly the amount you pay for it. When you sell it, it is worth exactly what someone pays you for it. How much money you spent on something a long time ago has no bearing on how much it is worth now. To find out what is worth now, you have to try to sell it and see what someone will pay you.
In Fran’s case, it didn’t do any harm for her to believe she had a Tiffany lamp because she loved it and she needed the light in her kitchen. But in Gertrude’s case, she looked at a painting that she didn’t like, multiple times a day, because she thought it was worth a lot of money, and then she paid to move it to Texas. It makes me sad to see this kind of misplaced attachment.
If you’re going to buy things for the value, treat it like you would treat an investment in the stock market. Pay attention to trends and try to buy low and sell high.
I wish people focused less on the monetary value of their belongings and appreciated them for their other values. Buy stuff you love, stuff that makes you happy. Maybe you’ll get lucky and, when the time comes, sell it for a lot of money. But, if not, you’ll know you still valued it for all those years.