Okay, so I have no idea where the name came from, but if you ask, my story would've sold me. Mantiques Modern in Chelsea on 22nd, has, hands down, the best assortment of the ridiculous, the sublime, and the "what the hell is that", I have ever seen. It's like a flea market where the list of criteria for exhibitors was drafted by my dream house. "Yes, I'll take the two WWII, chrome-plated .50 cal training guns, those three giant turn-of-the-century liqueur advertisements over there, the chairs from the Pininfarina showroom, oh, and the couch made from endangered species' horns and tusks (thanks Hemingway)."
Price tags seem to be out of style in the showroom, so the age old motto of, if you have to ask you can't afford it, should be strictly adhered to. There must be a "look" the person who actually spends money there has, and I evidently, don't have it. No, I wasn't going to buy the handmade turbine engine model, but for some reason it would've been nice for the guy behind the desk to get off the phone and acknowledge me so I could at least break the rule and ask how much it was.













