Tiffany Rules as Gilded Age Splendor Returns to the Met

Seeing a Tiffany & Co. robin’s-egg-blue box makes me smile. Getting one — with a Tiffany product inside, given to me — makes my heart go pitter pat. I sing “Moon River” as I carefully unbox. Tiffany pioneered luxury shopping in America and developed line upon line of luxury goods. It’s still a classy place. No blue boxes in the Metropolitan Museum’s Collecting Inspiration: Edward C. Moore at Tiffany & Co., I’m sorry to say, but I left happy after a long visit to this sumptuous show. Moore (1827–1891) was an accomplished silversmith, Tiffany’s head of design, and an astute, voracious collector. The art’s lovely and plentiful, and the scholarship is rich.

How could it not be? Dancing nymphs come cast and chased. Orientalist tea sets evoke secrets swapped in Gilded Age parlors. The Bryant Vase, inspired by ancient Greek art, is no flowerpot. Sublime and imposing, it would have found a fitting perch in the Parthenon. At a hefty 452 ounces, it would have sunk the Argos. There’s Venetian glass, Japanese kimonos, and pistols with Tiffany grips, embossed and nielloed for those who like to murder in high style.

About the Author

Brian T. Allen

Brian T. Allen is National Review’s art critic.

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Seeing a Tiffany & Co. robin’s-egg-blue box makes me smile. Getting one — with a Tiffany product inside, given to me — makes my heart go pitter pat. I sing “Moon River” as I carefully unbox. Tiffany pioneered luxury shopping in America and developed line upon line of luxury goods. It’s still a classy place. No blue boxes in the Metropolitan Museum’s Collecting Inspiration: Edward C. Moore at Tiffany & Co., I’m sorry to say, but I left happy after a long visit to this sumptuous show. Moore (1827–1891) was an accomplished silversmith, Tiffany’s head of design, and an astute, voracious collector. The art’s lovely and plentiful, and the scholarship is rich.

How could it not be? Dancing nymphs come cast and chased. Orientalist tea sets evoke secrets swapped in Gilded Age parlors. The Bryant Vase, inspired by ancient Greek art, is no flowerpot. Sublime and imposing, it would have found a fitting perch in the Parthenon. At a hefty 452 ounces, it would have sunk the Argos. There’s Venetian glass, Japanese kimonos, and pistols with Tiffany grips, embossed and nielloed for those who like to murder in high style.