I find it interesting how some words give items a sense of elevated importance, while others cast things under an unserious, frivolous light. It’s the difference between an “archive of cultural works” and a “collection of baubles.” At the end of the day, they’re both just piles of stuff, but the language we ascribe to them provides a positive or negative connotation, changing how we perceive their value. 

 

Decorative objects, especially, are up for critique. No one is arguing the importance of an oven to cook food or even a sofa to lie down on at the end of the day. However, folks can (and do) argue that art and accessories are “useless objects” because they don’t provide any objective function. That’s why these objects are dismissed with words like trinkets, knick-knacks, and my favorite, gewgaws. 

 

I want to reclaim words like gewgaw, because I, for one, think there is a great deal of value in these “useless” things. 

 

What is a Gewgaw, Anyway?

Gewgaw is a term for something we all know and love, those purely decorative objects with no obvious functional purpose. A gewgaw can also be called a bauble, trinket, knick-knack, bibelot, ornament, gimcrack, tchotchke, doodah, tsatske, folderol, furbelow, whim-wham, kickshaw, bijou, or gaud. These playful words could describe anything from a mass-produced plastic collectible figurine to a one-of-a-kind handmade art piece. 

 

Trinket, I think, is the most all-encompassing general term we’re most familiar with, which is defined as “a small ornament or item of jewelry that is of little value.” But to me, that definition entirely misses the point. 

 

Gewgaws and trinkets have value, just not always measurable in dollars or practical use.

 

The Long Human History of “Useless” Beauty

If “usefulness” is defined only by practical function, then art itself would be useless. And yet, humans have been making and treasuring art for tens of thousands of years. From prehistoric cave paintings and carved shells to Fabergé eggs and oil paintings, beauty has always been a basic human need that comes out through the expression and creation of things. I’m convinced even the earliest cave dwellers had rock collections arranged just so, like a kind of Stone Age mountain range.

 

Across centuries, cultures have used decorative objects to reflect values, record histories, and bring joy into daily life. There’s an inherent need for beautiful objects, not for their function, but for how they make us feel.

 

The Function of the “Unfunctional”

One of my favorite examples of beautiful impracticality is the Dinner’s Ready glass sculpture. It’s entirely made of glass and composed of twelve symmetrical arms radiating from a central hub holding six food cups, six goblets, and a pitcher. It looks like the grand centerpiece of a feast.

 

There’s just one problem: you can’t actually use it for dinner. It’s so extreme in its concept that it transforms the act of sharing food into an impossible fantasy. It’s a commentary on gathering, consumption, and design itself. 

 

But it makes you stop, think, and appreciate. So maybe that in itself is the function.

 

My Time in the Business of Trinkets

I learned a lot about the value of decorative objects during my early career at Christie’s Auction House. I saw people devote immense time, care, and money to objects they’d never “use” in the traditional sense. The silver soup tureens I polished in the silver department would never again serve soup; the classic movie posters would never be taped to a teenager’s bedroom wall. These were not tools. They were talismans.

 

From Fabergé eggs to pop culture collectibles, the love people have for their gewgaws can be profound. One of my colleagues left Christie’s to study decorative arts in a graduate program and later worked at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, where they built a career entirely around the so-called “useless.” 

 

How We Place Value on Objects Like Gewgaws

So if some objects have no purpose, how do we place value on them to auction at Christie’s or sell on the shelves of a home goods store? My cousin, antique dealer Angus Wilkie, knows the valuation process inside and out. At his New York shop, Cove Landing, he curates pieces that are equal parts history, craftsmanship, and curiosity. Three main factors determine value:

 

1. Design Quality – Was it conceived by a master craftsperson or designer, or is it a quick imitation? Was time spent sourcing materials and executing the piece with care?
2. Production Quantity – Is it one of a kind or one of thousands? A limited run almost always carries more value.
3. Provenance – What’s the story? A bracelet owned by Marilyn Monroe has a very different value than the same bracelet owned by your neighbor.

 

But the most important factor to consider is: What does the object mean to you? 

 

My Workshop of Useless Things

In my own workshop, I keep four glass-fronted cabinets filled entirely with gewgaws. Nothing that implies function, just beauty, memory, and meaning. Even when an object could be useful, my intention is that it remains purely decorative. Their “jobs” are to be admired, moved from shelf to shelf, and lived with.

 

The value of objects falls into three categories:

 

• Sentimental – These are the things tied to our lives, like the shells on my coffee table, that remind me of walks on the beach.
• Historical and Cultural – Some objects are miniature time capsules. They can connect you to traditions, places, and moments in time.
• Commercial – Some gewgaws appreciate in value, becoming investment pieces over the years. That does not have to be the reason you collect, but it can be a welcome side effect.

 

The Real Worth in the “Worthless”

The way an object can make you feel just by looking at it is hard to describe. On my side table sits a brass penguin with a slightly sad expression. The surface is worn and softened over time, begging to be touched. On a nearby shelf is a broken, old-fashioned alarm clock I found at a yard sale. I didn’t get it to fix and tell the time. I got it because it looks exactly like the one my father kept by his bed. My father passed away when I was young, but every time I see that clock, I can almost hear his voice or smell the mix of cigarette smoke and hair gel that followed him.

 

To someone else, these gewgaws might be dust collectors. To me, they’re layered with memory, love, and a kind of quiet magic.

 

Ways to Display Gewgaws

As an interior designer, part of my job is helping clients display their collections. While others may urge you to box things away in the name of minimalism or aesthetics, I say give your gewgaws the presentation they deserve. After all, they add character. Some ideas include… 

 

• Custom Built-ins – Designed to fit your unique collection perfectly.
• Bar Carts – An unexpected place to show off beautiful glassware or oddities.
• Mantels – Classic, charming, and easy to change with the seasons.
• Tray Groupings – Corral small items into intentional vignettes, following the rule of thirds.
• Center Tables – Give a major statement piece its own spotlight.

 

In Praise of the Useless

Who decides what’s worthy of space in our homes? I believe the answer should always be: you do. If a gewgaw makes you smile, connects you to your history, or sparks conversation, it’s doing important work. Beauty, memory, and connection are functions in their own right. So go ahead. Fill your shelves with shells, penguins, broken clocks, and the strange, sparkling objects that speak only to you. In the end, gewgaws aren’t “useless” at all. 

 

If an object makes you feel something, it is earning its keep.