Montevideo is increasingly embracing modern trends: see fashion-forward boutiques opened by a new generation of designers, hipster restaurants, and the sprouting of glossy high-rises facing the Rio de la Plata. But what really defines this small South American city is a sense of timelessness: neoclassical and Art Nouveau architecture, leafy plazas, and riverside promenades, all of which call to mind bygone eras when people took the time to slow down . Nowhere is this vibe more palpable than in the Ciudad Vieja, a historic district of less than a square mile dotted with cafes, bookstores, small museums, and a large collection of antique stores and auction houses packed with vintage treasures. Montevideo enjoyed a golden era in the early 20th century, when wealthy local families traveled frequently to Europe in vast ocean liners, bringing back cargo trunks full of sophisticated furnishings and artworks. This, together with the belongings brought over by new immigrants from Spain and Italy, as well as goods made by highly qualified Uruguayan silversmiths and woodworkers, led to the city’s bounty of collectibles.

Over the past five years, discerning entrepreneurs have taken advantage of this abundance of relics to create atmospheric restaurants, hotels, and other businesses paying tribute to the capital’s character. The 15-room Alma Histórica Boutique Hotel , which opened two years ago by Italian art collector Gianfranco Bonan, showcases a carefully curated hodgepodge of locally bought furnishings from the late 19th and early 20th centuries. Each room is unique, inspired by Uruguayan cultural icons such as painter Pedro Figari and tango virtuoso Carlos Gardel. A short walk away, on the other side of Plaza Zabala, one of the oldest and prettiest squares in Montevideo, is Jacinto , a casual restaurant run by acclaimed local chef Lucía Soria. Set in an old corner building with vaulted ceilings and brick walls, the space is decorated with vintage tables and chairs, including a series of 1960s metal typewriter carts used as waiter stations. “Most of what we have was purchased at Bavastro,” says Soria, referring to a nearby auction house.

“I love that place and I’m very fond of the family that owns it.” chairs for sale gumtree belfastSoria is not alone. cheap dining room chairs leedsFor the past 100 years, Bavastro has held weekly auctions, where customers vie for everything from porcelain figurines and rotary phones to intricately carved placards and grand pianos. chairs for sale overstockThe beloved emporium was also the setting for a recent dinner party held by Mesabrava , a buzz-worthy supper club that chooses unusual, often historical locales for its events. used bistro chairs for sale”The tables were set using all the items that were there for sale; chairs for sale jamaica

mixed wooden benches with wrought iron chairs and chesterfield sofas, and included some of their [Bavastro's] statuettes as decoration,” says Gustavo Zerbino, one of Mesabrava’s founders. rattan hanging chair uk“People said they felt transported to Paris or Budapest.”modern lounge chairs ikea Aside from auction houses like Bavastro and Castells, Montevideo has a trove of antique stores and a popular flea market held every Sunday on Tristán Narvaja Street, in the neighborhood of Cordón, where merchants peddle live parrots next to first-edition books and 1900s Leicas. modern lounge chairs ikeaRoberto Begnini, an Italian interior designer and writer, scoured the entire city for one-of-a-kind treasures to decorate his five-room hotel opened in 2016, Casa Roberto , which occupies a painstakingly restored 1912 residence outside the Ciudad Vieja. living room chair with casters

Begnini chose pieces that complement the house’s Art Nouveau and Art Deco architecture, including a cedar console with carved lion legs in the dining room, and a patinated bronze sculpture that reminded him of a “Wagnerian opera character” in the library. The lodging includes a shop where Begnini stocks handpicked furnishings and tchotchkes from local markets and world travels. "My guests are often surprised by the abundance of beautiful vintage pieces brought over from Europe or made by skilled local hands,” he says. “There’s a very large patrimony considering the size of this country.” Founded in 1917 by Eugenio Bavastro, an Italian descendant, this Ciudad Vieja institution is now run by his children and grandchildren. Its regular auctions are held every Thursday, in addition to special monthly sales of high-value jewelry, paintings, and furnishings. In business since 1835, Castells holds themed auctions a few times a month. Some are dedicated to modern and contemporary art from Uruguay and Europe, others to antique jewelry, and even factory machinery.

Located on pedestrian Sarandí Street in the Ciudad Vieja, Louvre’s varied stock includes anything from ornate silver gaucho knives and Uruguayan amethysts to French crystal chandeliers and marble statues. One of the newer antique shops in the city, Zorrilla was established in 2012 in the downtown area. Owner and history buff Sebastián Zorilla de San Martín sells a curated collection of antique weapons, including swords and spears, as well as paintings, objets d’art, and more. Every Sunday morning, Tristán Narvaja Street in the neighborhood of Cordón becomes an open-air bazaar. There are lots of cheap and sometimes unattractive goods, but resourceful shoppers often find hidden gems.“It was sort of a joke,” explains art dealer Kris Ghesquière about going to live in Uruguay with his partner, painter Eva Claessens. “It might as easily have been Zimbabwe, another country with wide-open spaces and few people.” These two Belgians clearly love a challenge. Exiting their respective homes — his a minimalist white box in Ostend, hers a rambling medieval castle in the south of France — turned out to be the easy part.

The couple, with no Uruguayan connections or knowledge of the quiet country between the chaotic giants of Argentina and Brazil, fell in love with a landscape and, fatefully, with a rural ruin and folly that was not remotely a house. Ultimately, they ended up bringing with them their combined books, art, furniture, three cats and a basset hound called Sammy. Their place is on the road between the coastal town of José Ignacio and the interior village of Garzón. Both were already international hot spots, drawing winemakers, world-class chefs and a collection of foreign artists, architects and bohemian fashion types. But the couple weren’t even aware of that. As Claessens tells it, “after one minute” of seeing the abandoned structure — with no roof, no doors or windows and trees growing inside — “we exchanged a look. Within five minutes, we made an offer,” which, unsurprisingly, was accepted. The back patio — one of four terraces on the property — has a view of a lake;

the iron chairs came from a castle in the south of France and the table was made by Ghesquière. What they got was a lot of work —12 acres of undulating greenish-blond land and the gorgeously dilapidated remnants of an 1810 roadside pulpería, once a common sort of general store and way station, where travelers and horses would rest and restock. It took years to craft a livable house and studio within the romantic suggestion of these remains. First the couple had to sell their two houses and rejigger a business. Ghesquière had been operating a gallery out of his house. Now he runs a curated online shop, Kunzt Gallery, that connects collectors to artists and other vendors. For her part, Claessens found in Uruguay the perfect combination of natural beauty, solitude for painting and an enthusiastic buying public. Both were well traveled (she has lived in Italy, India, France, Jamaica and the U.S.; he has journeyed alone through 83 countries). The master bedroom’s chair and floor lamp were found in Buenos Aires, the rug is an antique Bolivian poncho that was a gift from Claessens’s mother, the painting is by Claessens and the antique shutters were bought at auction in Montevideo, Uruguay.

But they had not yet lived together when they moved to Uruguay. They settled first in the old resort town of Punta del Este, 25 miles from their future home. There they engaged a local handyman who, with his entire family, went to work on the farm, which came to be called Dos Belgas, or Two Belgians. Despite differences of language and aesthetics, Ghesquière and Claessens managed to convey to their crew how to make things perfectly imperfect, and scoured the auction houses and markets of Montevideo and Buenos Aires for old doors and windows, sinks and lamps. “We did not want a rustic look,” she says, but rather “a more timeless simplicity.” And so the windows are plain sheets of glass — modern, historically inaccurate and better to capture the bucolic scene. The kitchen’s pendant light is leather, the ceiling beam is an old railroad track found in a nearby field and the flooring is tinted cement tile. There were also thrilling discoveries, as in the beautiful geometric tiles they found under about six inches of dirt.

The kitchen looks antique when, in fact, it’s newly installed. The result is appealingly eclectic and personal. Ghesquière designed and hand-built the boathouse next to one of the lakes that he and Claessens created on the property; the handmade chairs on the dock offer views of the hills of Garzón, while the couple’s horses and cows graze in the surrounding fields. The house and Claessens’s painting studio, along with a walled garden, tack room, and barn, all wrap around a large open courtyard. Most rooms open to an interior patio, as well as to the property’s lakes, with views of the soft hills beyond Garzón. The lakes were a huge undertaking. The homeowners dug three: one by a eucalyptus copse for the horses, a small one for the nightly frog concert and a third, the largest one, where Ghesquière realized what Claessens calls his “boyhood dream” of building a boathouse. In Ghesquière’s office, the desk is a custom design, the Le Corbusier chairs are from Belgium, and the flooring is concrete tile set within a framework of reclaimed wood.

It was a dream of patience, too, since once they had dug the lake, they had to wait nine months for it to fill with rainwater. The art dealer bought 30 books on house and deck construction, teaching himself how to use his hands “and balance my life — since my work is always on the computer.” The boathouse's bench is from Zimbabwe, and the room's colors we custom-mixed by Claessens. From the bathtub inside the boathouse, the views look straight out to the lake, which is now home to spoonbills, flamingos, frogs and wild ducks. Climbing begonias shade the “jungle terrace”; the dining table was designed by Ghesquière, the chairs are from a flea market in the south of France and the lantern came from a market near Florence. For the artist, the garden and the house are an evolving sculpture. The gardener is not allowed to cut the plants. Instead, Claessens wanders around with her clippers, artistically snipping. “It’s much harder to have a ragged natural look than to have it mown flat,” she explains.

Once, when Ghesquière was away on business, she planted a surprise palm tree on the island that they’d established in the big lake. Her painting is similarly whimsical and fluid. In the living room of Kris Ghesquière and Eva Claessens’s house in southeastern Uruguay, which they built on the remains of an 1810 roadside general store, the chair was constructed by a local carpenter based on a picture in a magazine, the vintage table in front of the sofa was found at an auction in France and the rug is from Iran; the yellow lamb sculptures are by William Sweetlove, and the paintings and feather sculpture are by Claessens. Sometimes she adds feathers or bits of linen; works are hung without a frame or even a stretcher. Most important, these dos Belgas have allowed themselves to be influenced by their surroundings — by the light and shadows, the sounds of the country and the slower pace of living and working in the southern hemisphere. As a result, their place has the feel of an enchanted lab: Here is artistic experimentation with a sense of fun and no rigid formula.