The Real American Picker

He won’t reveal what he has in the van in this photo, or where he got it, but picker Gary Dias always has the goods.


It was twelve years ago when I first heard about Gary Dias (pronounced DYE-ESS). He was in my store, which was then on Jane Street, inquiring about the best price on a set of three lamps. (Of course, I didn’t know what they were, but they surelooked nice!)

My assistant at the time, George Marshal, said, “Gary Dias was here asking about these lamps.”

“Who’s he?” I asked.

“You don’t know who Gary Dias is?”

I said, “No.”

“He’s one of the best pickers in the business!”

Dias eventually bought the lamps, drove down to Soho and sold them to another dealer within minutes.

Dias now says he would often spend the day buying something from one dealer and driving it across town to sell it to another. But that was in the ’90s when the economy was better and the demand was much higher. Those days are long gone. Today Dias still travels, but often out of state, to find his merch. He is still very connected to most of the downtown modern dealers, as well as a few in Hudson, New York. He works the old fashioned way–always on the road communicating by phone. He never texts or sends pictures. He is only hands-on, bringing the goods straight to your door. 

My most recent (and also favorite) purchase from Dias was a Hans Bellmann popsicle table along with a somewhat rare Robsjohn-Giddings floor lamp, which I rewired and polished. It’s gorgeous! The lamp is available–and reasonably priced–here at my website. Of course, I have no idea where Dias found these great pieces. The picker never shares his secrets.


If you want the sweet deals, contact Gary Dias at gdias@nyc.rr.com.

Making it Out Alive: All in a Day's Work

Sometimes I just can’t believe the journey I go on just to get some furniture refinished. I’ve been to several industrial parks in this city before (all business trips, of course) like the ones in East Williamsburg, Greenpoint, Long Island City and somewhere in The Bronx. But these days, about twice a week, I find myself in Sunset Park at the Brooklyn Army Terminal paying a visit to my refinisher and upholsterer.

When I’m driving south down 1st Avenue from 39th Street to 58th Street towards the entrance of the terminal it’s like I’m trapped in a Mad Max movie. No driving rules apply on that 20 block stretch. Not only is the surface of the street a minefield of potholes, train tracks, and cobblestones mixed with black top, but semi’s are always parked along the streets–on the wrong side. Some truck drivers are trying to back up into loading docks with only 2″ clearance. There is usually a sanitation truck convention at all times with vehicles lined up for 3 blocks waiting to take off. As my picker friend Frank Daley would say, “Every time I go down there I lose a year off of my life. It’s a war zone!”

One day when I finally arrived at the gate of the Army Terminal to drop off a Knoll credenza I met a new challenge: a battle with a freight train. Was I really in New York City? Were my other women friends having this same type of encounter getting to work? Was anyone ever going to believe this?

Good thing I had my  trusty camera with me that day. Watch the video. You can’t make this shit up.