Bill Pallot, with an unparalleled passion for the 18th-century French chair, turned it into a rich career consultation for museums, galleries, collectors and Versailles.
He became a fixture for Parisian society and became a celebrity in the art world until he was cut down by a former student who had been soaked in antiques that he could – literally – taste fakes.
Mr. Palotte’s expertise and assurance of authenticity have enabled French experts to designate multiple projects as national treasures. He also used his famous buyers, including Abdullah bin Khalifa al-Thani of Qatar, to think they were buying real royal history.
He proved the authenticity of the seat, which was said to belong to the mistress of Marie Antoinette and Mrs. Barry Louis XV.
People are very convinced in Mr. Palot, because about 40 years ago he wrote a book on the subject: “The Art of the Chair of the 18th Century in France”, which included the preface to his friend, antique lover and fashion designer Karl Lagerfeld.
Now, Mr. Palot may be known for leveraging his knowledge of art history to fool some of the most respected antique experts and buyers.
On Tuesday, after years of investigation by French police, Mr. Palot and five other allegedly involved a plan that brought counterfeits to unsuspecting buyers on the first day of a criminal trial in Pontoise near Paris, who were accused of trafficking freight vintage furniture.
In 2016, the French Ministry of Culture issued a statement saying that police were investigating the authenticity of furniture worth 2.7 million euros (about 2.9 million US dollars), including two Louis XV chairs purchased by Versailles. The investigation concluded that they were not true and were arrested the same year. In 2017, the scandal also changed the way French authorities identifies antiques.
But doubts about Mr. Palot have begun to surface, most notably his antique dealer and former student, Charles Hooreman, who shared his concerns with Pallot as well as buyers and French authorities.
In 2018, Mr Hooreman told Vanity Fair that he had considered Mr Pallot’s “hero” after attending an Art History speech at Sorbonne. Later he entered the same profession with his teacher, but based on the conversation with the buyer and the number of antiques, he was suspicious of the mentor.
Back in 2012, Mr. Hooreman said he had seen two folding benches touted as Princess Louise Ellisabeth, the eldest daughter of King Louis XV. He felt forced to test them.
“I licked the chair and voila. I can taste fraud,” he told Vanity Fair.
He was familiar with the methods used by master craftsmen for restoration, and he realized that Mr. Palot liked Bruno Desnoues’s skills in woodworking. Mr. Desnoues uses melted licorice to give the new wood an old feel.
Mr. Desnoues is now also in trial and acknowledges his role in the program. Mr. Pallot himself has widely acknowledged his conspiracy, but denied that there were as many fakes as Mr. Hooreman claimed.
A French investigative judge noted in the last lawsuit that Mr. Pallot’s Smiling had told the court about the origins of the deception: He and Mr. Desnus were curious about whether they could make a good fake while the artisans restored authentic antiques.
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