Anduze jarre at Huff Harrington Home
It’s a little ironic that we are back in France right now, shopping with our shoppers
in all the most fun antiques places, just as our long lost container of
“fabulous French finds” of Anduze jars and other goodies, has finally
found itself back home to Atlanta! Yes, we waited on this container
for a long time — which is another story (but we won’t bore you with the
weather again!) — but now that it has arrived, we’re all jumping up and
down, and so thrilled especially that our beautiful Anduze pots arrived
safe and sound.
A signed Anduze jarre …
Happily home, at Huff Harrington!
I’ve been coveting these jarres for years, because I’ve always admired
the graceful shape and the decorative flourishes, but it wasn’t until
recently that I became better educated about them and fell deeply in
love!
The French have been decorating their homes and chateaus with Anduze pots since the mid-18th Century, when they were first made in the charming little town of Anduze, in south central France, after Marie Antoinette decorated the Orangerie and lined the formal gardens and terraces of Versailles with these shapely pots.
The Anduze pots were an adaptation of the Italian Medici, glazed in a signature dark green color to blend in with the countryside and often signed by the artisans who hand made them. Unlike their hard working, olive-storing cousins the Biot, Anduze were strictly decorative and never had a functional purpose except to enhance the gardens and patios of the lucky owners who could afford them.
Anduze pots were made in Anduze for about 100 years, starting around 1750. But production dropped off significantly in the mid 1850’s, and all but a few of the factories closed completely. One of the reasons they are so coveted today is that there are just a limited number of the authentic and original Anduze pots made, usually with few vestiges of the dark green glaze remaining, along with a barely readable signature. And with anything that is so rare and hard to find, there is always a price to pay!
A pair of Anduze pots gracefully greeting guests with their boxwood topiaries. From Only Provence website.
A dreamy Provencal terrace of decorative Anduze pots. From Valancogne and Partners
Another pair of outdoor pots, from Millie on Pinterest.
We love the natural stone, linen and olive branches that go so
beautifully with this Anduze jarre. And isn’t the shutter color just
perfection? Mmmm … From Simple Everyday Glamour on Pinterest
A happy greeter, from the Good House on Pinterest
I’m there! (From Wietzie lieze gerber on Pinterest)
If truth be told, now that I have come to covet the real authentic,
crusty, crunchy, peeling and patina’d Anduze pot, I’m a little
embarrassed at my first attempt at Anduze mania, with a “jarre” I
bought for Les Murets several years ago. We know that it’s difficult to
find the real, 18th and 19th Century Anduze pots, so imitations abound.
And it’s not that I object to the “fake” Anduze, because I do still love
the shape. I just wish the patina were a little less shiny, a little
less yellow and had a little more age (like me!).
My brand new Anduze, when I first got it several years ago, with its way too small boxwood! Embarrassing!
This is better, but it needed a little haircut!
I’ve always loved this photo and wanted to use it somehow. And a blog
about our little Anduze pot is just the right time! Just love the
contrast of the light on the Anduze and the stormy clouds above. (But
oops … isn’t it always sunny in Provence?)
My favorite Anduze’s are the aged ones we use inside, because they’re
valuable, they’re rare and they add so much character to any interior.
The 18th and 19th C. Anduzes are an old, crunchy, sometimes even
slightly crumbling vestige of a bygone era that, although intended to be
outside, I think are even happier alongside eclectic furnishings,
elegant moldings and modern art. The crunchier the merrier as far as
we’re concerned!
My favorite Anduzes are the ones we put inside, like this one From La Poche Antiques
And the picture that makes me swoon every time: From Cote Maison. Isn’t it just divine?
Ta ta,
HH
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