Seeing the Light

An obsession with a rare vintage lamp helps one writer gain an understanding of glamour in the social-media age.

-  Thessaly La Force

Recently, I bought an apartment that will require a complete renovation. Nothing fancy, though it won't be cheap, and as with such endeavors, I've found it's become an all-consuming project. For instance, I am now fixated on acquiring a vintage Uchiwa pendant lamp made by the midcentury German industrial designer Ingo Maurer. Crafted from bamboo fans, fabric, and paper and resembling the open petals of an anemone flower, the lamp is a beautiful relic of the 1970s. Maurer was called "the poet of light," and his command of it deserves reverence. Partly because his Uchiwa lamps have not been produced since 1984 and partly because of the frailty of their materials, they are expensive. According to the Parisian dealer I've been emailing with, the lamp I want costs more than a year's worth of childcare for my toddler.

Much of its allure has to do with my having first glimpsed the lamp in the apartment of a New York fashion designer I had long admired. This was many years ago, but the impression it made on me still runs deep. She was throwing a dinner party. There were white anemone flowers on the table, and she had set out her mother's silver. The designer's taste was so idiosyncratic and singular that any attempt on my part to imitate it was likely a grave mistake. And yet, the Uchiwa lamp's beauty took on a possessive quality for me, the way many glamorous objects do. It felt as though my appreciation for it empowered me with a sense of ownership over it.