THE ANTIQUE

Antiques and Systemic Wellbeing: Embracing Imperfection, History, and the Wabi Sabi Ethos

In the contemporary conversation around design and wellbeing, the role of antiques is often overlooked or reduced to notions of “style” and “taste.” Yet, antiques offer something far more essential, a quiet philosophy that resonates deeply with systemic wellbeing.

For me, an “antique” is not defined strictly by age, provenance, or price, but by its past life. I see all such objects—from a timeworn Georgian dresser to a vintage thrift-store find—as part of the same continuum. Each carries a history. Each is a survivor of time, with marks, dents, and patina that speak of human touch and of the passage of years.

This view is aligned with the Japanese philosophy of wabi sabi. At its core, wabi sabi celebrates imperfection, impermanence, and authenticity. It values the asymmetrical, the weathered, the incomplete. It asks us to embrace the humble truth that beauty is fleeting and that things gain character precisely because they are not pristine.

In interiors, wabi sabi is not simply an aesthetic of rustic minimalism. It is an attitude: welcoming the unrepeatable narrative embedded in objects. When we bring antiques into our spaces, we are accepting the world as it truly is—imperfect, layered, evolving.

I often think of the Chinese principle of the “broken tooth making the perfect smile” as a perfect analogy. The saying acknowledges that an imperfection does not detract from beauty; rather, it completes it. In the same way, placing an antique—weathered, patinated, cracked, or faded—within a clean, modern environment doesn’t “spoil” the contemporary look. Instead, it enriches it. The contrast between old and new illuminates the intricate details of the modern by juxtaposition. It creates a conversation between eras, materials, and philosophies.

This is not simply about design “contrast” in the stylistic sense. It is about grounding spaces in human experience. Systemic wellbeing is a holistic idea—it recognises that our environment shapes our psyche, our mood, our sense of belonging. Incorporating antiques—objects with a past—adds a sense of continuity and memory. It gives us a thread to the past, an invitation to imagine other lives, other times, other ways of being.

In practice, this can mean restoring a battered farmhouse table for family dinners. It can mean placing a single, perfectly weathered ceramic vessel in an ultra-modern kitchen. It can mean choosing old brass fixtures that mellow with age rather than polished chrome that insists on perfection.

Antiques, whether grand or humble, bring layers of meaning that foster a sense of connectedness. They slow us down. They invite us to notice. They resist the disposable culture that prioritises novelty over substance. In this sense, they are not merely decorative. They are essential tools for creating environments that support human wellbeing—not just in the individual, but in the systemic sense of community, sustainability, and cultural memory.

In my own design philosophy, I strive to honour this integration of past and present. I believe that by welcoming objects with history—by accepting the cracked tooth in the perfect smile—we create spaces that are truly alive. Spaces that acknowledge that imperfection is not only unavoidable but also beautiful