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| Passion Investments: Gems & Jewelry |
Explosive Plastic
Julie Connelly
12/01/2004
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The current renaissance in jewelry made from Bakelite—the brittle,
heat-resistant plastic that saw its heyday in industrial applications during the
early 20th century—can be traced back to a solitary, ghostlike figure floating
through the stalls of New York’s Sunday morning flea markets in the 1980s. The
specter was Andy Warhol, who was busily spending his pocket change to amass a
gigantic collection of the kitschy, plastic jewelry. No one knew of his
assemblage until Sotheby’s auctioned it off in 1988, a year after he died. “That
auction put Bakelite on the map,” says Matthew Burkholz, author of The Bakelite
Collection (Schiffer Publishing, 1997) and owner of Route 66 Antiques in
Chatham, N.Y. “When an artist says this is a collectible, people tend to pay
attention.”
| “The fashionistas can pile on 2-inch-wide polka-dot bangles that weigh something less than a Volkswagen, the young girl can have one or two narrow
carved bangles, and the ladies in the financial sector can wear pins and
necklaces that don’t get in the way.” |
Today, Bakelite jewelry and objets d’art, which peaked in
popularity during the Great Depression, represent an idiosyncratic and
potentially lucrative category of collectible Americana. Although prices have
been buffeted in recent years by scandal, forgeries and a surge in online
auctions, this could be the pivotal moment to invest in this unique class of
folk art.
Pedestrian Prizes
Robert Lerch, an ear, nose and throat specialist who
practices in Manhattan and collects various types of Americana, displays more
than 3,000 pieces of Bakelite in his New York townhouse. Assembled over three
decades, Lerch’s collection includes bangles, pins, necklaces, belt buckles,
napkin rings, radios and oddities such as tiny Bakelite burros whose saddlebags
are books of cocktail recipes. The autumnal colors glow in carnelian, peridot,
garnet, emerald, amber and topaz. “Bakelite is really American folk art,” Lerch
insists. “You look at a given bracelet; some craftsman carved out the design by
hand. It’s like a painting.” But vintage Bakelite is also made from a very
pedestrian material. Because many folk art collectors snub this banal substance,
“there is a real opportunity to buy it now at very fair prices,” Lerch says.
Vintage Bakelite appeals to collectors on many levels. The colors have
oxidized over the years into warm, mellow shades, the touch and texture of the
material itself is viscerally pleasing, and the pieces boast an almost endless
variety. “The fashionistas can pile on 2-inch-wide polka-dot bangles that weigh
something less than a Volkswagen, the young girl can have one or two narrow
carved bangles, and the ladies in the financial sector can wear pins and
necklaces that don’t get in the way,” says Karima Perry, author of Bakelite
Bangles (Krause Publications, 1999) and an online jewelry dealer at
PlasticFantastic.com.
 |  | | MORE UNUSUAL Bakelite pieces attract collectors, thereby building demand. Top: bowtie dot bangle ($4,000–$5,000). Bottom: windmill and clogs pin
($300–$500). |
Until 25 years ago, Bakelite was a forgotten artifact
of the Depression, ignored by all but a few iconoclasts such as Diana Vreeland,
the former editor of Vogue, whose famous cuffs sparkled with Bakelite. The
substance was patented in 1907 by chemist Leo Baekeland, the source of the name,
who combined phenol resin, a highly corrosive coal tar derivative, with
formaldehyde in his Yonkers, N.Y., laboratory to create the first heat-resistant
plastic. Its original uses were industrial—Ma Bell used it for her basic black
telephones—but Bakelite was also produced in many brilliant colors. It gradually
made its way into the consumer market to replace highly flammable
celluloid.
Because Bakelite was a dense material that endured carving and
polishing, it began its life in fashion mimicking more expensive minerals like
ivory and jade. Craftsmen gradually stopped imitating and started creating
original designs. When the United States plunged into the Depression, most women
could no longer afford fine jewelry. But Bakelite pieces, which sold for as
little as 20 cents in Woolworth’s and as much as $3 in exclusive stores such as
Saks Fifth Avenue, were within everyone’s reach. Pins in the shapes of frisky
Scotties or banjo-playing frogs were so whimsical and inexpensive that “they
allowed women to decorate themselves without feeling guilty,” says Clair Watson,
director of couture, textiles and fine costume jewelry at the Doyle New York
auction house. But by the early 1950s, Lucite, made of less hazardous materials,
had begun to replace Bakelite.
Criminal Prices
Following Sotheby’s famous Warhol auction, prices for
vintage Bakelite rose quickly. Because the market was still small, fragmented
and inefficient, one man was able to fuel most of the manic demand between 1994
and 1999. Dennis Masellis, a law firm payroll clerk and a fervent collector,
cruised flea markets and antique shows covered in Bakelite pins, reportedly
wearing a hat with a sign stuck in the band: “Quote your top price.” He never
haggled, and paid cash for what he chose. Dealers adored him.
The trend
erupted in 1998 and 1999, when Dan Ripley of Antique Helper Auctions in
Indianapolis sold his father’s enormous collection. He recalls that collectors
were seeing pieces for the first time that they had only heard about. Hammer
prices for iconic items were staggering. Masellis paid $21,000 for Pumpkin Man,
an amusing, 5-inch pin with a Bakelite pumpkin head, a green wooden body and
cornhusk hands and feet. One of the so-called Philadelphia bracelets, a green
bracelet an inch wide and hinged, decorated with black, orange, green, red and
yellow geometric flanges, went to Masellis for $16,000.
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