Most people adopt a pared-back décor style when it comes to their home. Even those of us who are partial to covering the mantel with our most sentimental knick-knacks still don’t put everything out, everywhere. This month, Britt Coker meets a man whose pastime is to find pieces of the past and give them presence.
Photos: Tessa Claus
“I’ve always been a collector, but it’s just got a bit carried away.”
Ross Alvey begins a tour of his house with a nod to an obsession. He has a collection of collections: genie bottles, record players, LED watches, Crown Lynn crockery, Smurfs, chalkware, sunburst clocks, Benson & Hedges cigarette memorabilia. He sums up what I see.
“There’s no real pattern; I kind of collect one thing for a while then move on to something else.”
Almost every space in every room displays something from the past to look at. His younger friends describe it as a museum, though you’ll find no, ‘Please do not touch’ signs on these vintage pieces. Some are triggers of childhood, like handheld console games his friends played, or memories of his dad.
“The most recent stuff is probably the Benson & Hedges corner, because my father smoked them in the 1980s, and I started by stealing his cigarettes.”
Ross confesses to always having the collector gene in him – as a child it was stamps and Weet-Bix collector cards – but to get through a difficult break up about five years ago, and a subsequent dip into depression, he sought solace in Facebook Marketplace and TradeMe listings. The dopamine levels spiked as each parcel arrived, masking the heartbreak, easing the depression, and providing focus as he searched the house for the perfect spot to put the latest prized acquisition.
He admits that he sometimes looks around his house and laughs, seeing it as a bit over the top. Perhaps it is the accountant in him talking (his career for 28 years). The stereotypical restraint of a numbers guy, looking at numbers of things. Does it add up? Dressed in an eclectic, patterned ensemble, he’s certainly a refreshing challenge to preconceived ideas of a business sector that plays it safe. But while we all joke about the stereotypes of buttoned-up accountants, aren’t we, at least on a subconscious level, comforted to have an outwardly conservative bean counter when it comes to looking after our tax returns? Not Ross’s clients.
Perhaps an advantage with vintage collectibles, as opposed to antique pieces, is that there’s a more hands-on approach to the memorabilia, with regular forays into function, not form. Crown Lynn plates are for eating off, not just looking at, and his everyday cutlery is vintage too. He’s got a well-used collection of alcoholic liqueurs and spirits as well, though I’m guessing there will be readers who also have a similar assembly at home. For Ross, it’s an excuse for cocktail parties amongst the treasure trove. The drinks cabinet resides in his hallway, as there is no room in more typical places.
I wonder, too practically, about the dusting, but he doesn’t seem to mind. The house has not been staged for photos he assures me, this is how he lives. I can’t help noticing that there is an element of the accountant on display. There is the grouping by theme, methodical and neat, and he knows how many genie bottles he has without having to count them. So, still a numbers guy, albeit with plenty of ice breakers for first-time client meetings. Yes, since his collections have worked their way into every corner of the house, it’s only natural they should then flow out of the house and into the office.
“The couple of ladies that work for me get a bit, sort of, ‘Here’s another piece that’s arrived,’” he laughs. “It’s a smaller version of stuff that is in here [at home]. It’s got the carpet from the airport and the display on the walls [of chalkware], electronics, and genie bottles.”
The Nelson Airport carpet is infamous. Giant 1970s squares in brown, yellow and orange, it is perhaps the most ballsy welcome mat the region has ever put out, so to think of a large piece of it lying on the floor of an accountant’s office makes me happy.
Amongst all this choice, is it possible to have a favourite? He singles out a massive movie poster on the wall.
“Probably Clint [Eastwood], because that was an accident. I thought it was a normal-sized poster when I bought it, and sat it in the drawer for a couple of years. I took it to one of the framing places, and that’s the biggest size the glass comes in. It just fitted inside the biggest frame they could make.”
When you collect niche items, you will invariably get yourself into a bidding war if at least one other person also recognises the unique opportunity of purchasing something that may not appear for sale again. But he forces himself to stop when the price gets too high. Other keen collectors of red genie bottles appear unrestrained by the current economic climate.
“I’ve stopped collecting a lot of stuff, because the prices have gone way over what I’m willing to pay, like some of the genie bottles, the red ones, go for $1,200 to $1,500. The standard ones used to be under 100 bucks but they’re $200 to $300 now. So a lot of them I picked up for way less than that.”
He points to his lone red genie bottle. “I got that from a fancy antique shop in Dunedin, it had really expensive stuff [in it]. And then that genie was sitting down the side of some sideboard… She said it was her mother’s, and I asked how much. She said $120, and I couldn’t get my card out quick enough.”
A house tour observation of Ross’s clothes rack confirms that today’s outfit is not a rarity. He says he’s always had an eye for creative attire but has grown more comfortable and confident with the look in recent years. Reinforced, no doubt, by the many women who acknowledge him for his dress sense, seeing it as a refreshing change from the socially acceptable but safe options that most others wear. For those men, “What the hell are you wearing?” is the oblivious catch cry.
With house space now at a premium, I ask if he has adopted a one-in, one-out policy yet.
“It’s been a real, sort of driven passion to get all this stuff collected over the last few years. At the moment, there’s really only a couple of things on my list I want – additions at a very reasonable price. They really helped me get through what I needed to get through, and now I’m on the other side… When a package arrives, I don’t get the excitement I used to get. I’ve moved on from that.”
It was a phase to get through a breakup and ease himself out of his depression, but now it’s less important. He’s also just started dating someone, so another reason for a change in priority. Did he invite her around without any preemption as to what she might find? No. He warned her that he was, ‘a bit of a hoarder’, but “she was quite happy that it wasn’t as bad as she thought it would be.” No red-flagged stacks of newspapers anywhere – his Smurf collection is as risky as it gets.
It turns out to be a sweet story about how his new girlfriend is a woman he has known for 30 years, and the anxiety and depression that he’s had off and on in his life gave way to a level of confidence that was strong enough that Ross finally asked her out.
It’s interesting how all this flamboyance and bold aesthetics in personal fashion and décor certainly paints a picture of someone who is confident, colourful, and inclined to make brave choices. Maybe these days the answer to that is more ‘yes’ than ‘no’, but people are complex, and books are easy to judge by their covers. The good thing about aging is that years of positive experiences provide opportunities for us to see our worth and observe the perfectly imperfect in everybody else as well. Ross has always been open about his bouts of anxiety and depression, but it’s a lot easier now that society embraces it as part of the zeitgeist.
“When I got diagnosed a few years ago, I put up a post on Facebook… and that got an overwhelmingly positive response from everyone. I think mental health affects a lot of people. Just like getting older, you hear all this stuff about ‘youth is wasted on the young’ because you’re just so much more confident [as you age] in how you handle yourself and what you can do with your capability, but maybe the back’s not up to it.”
Accumulating vintage décor was a coping mechanism that worked for Ross. Although the collecting bug has since abated, his resulting collection still gives him, and his visitors, plenty of joy.
