Those are very rare. Every collector would love to have one.
In the quiet aisles of a Virginia Goodwill, a horse trainer named Jessica Vincent paid $3.99 for a glass vase that turned out to be a 1942 Pennellate masterpiece by Carlo Scarpa, one of only two known in its form and color. Sold at auction in December 2023 for $107,100, the find reminds us that beauty and rarity do not always announce themselves — they wait, patient and unmarked, for the right pair of eyes. It is a story as old as human attention itself: the extraordinary hiding inside the ordinary, asking only to be seen.
- A $3.99 thrift store purchase set off a chain of urgent messages from Murano glass collectors who recognized the vase as something almost no one alive had ever held.
- Authentication specialists flew from Italy to Virginia, unwrapping the piece from bubble wrap and a tablecloth — their visible shock confirming what online collectors had already suspected.
- The vase's perfect, chipless condition was the difference between a six-figure sale and a near-worthless curiosity, making every moment of its unknown journey through anonymous hands feel like a near-miss.
- A top European collector purchased it for $107,100 on December 13, 2023, netting Vincent roughly $83,500 after auction commissions — enough to heat her farmhouse and steady her financial footing.
- Vincent now hopes the vase lands in a museum, having already felt the quiet burden of knowing exactly what something irreplaceable is worth.
Jessica Vincent was browsing a Richmond-area Goodwill one June afternoon when a spiraling aqua and amethyst glass vase caught her eye. Stamped with "Murano" and "Italia" on its base and priced at $3.99, it looked genuinely old amid the clutter of measuring cups and candles. Vincent, a 43-year-old horse trainer who had spent years haunting thrift stores with her mother and watching Antiques Roadshow, bought it on instinct. She had no plan to sell it.
That changed when she posted photos in Facebook groups for glass art enthusiasts. The responses were swift and intense. One message stood out: these are very rare — every collector would love one, but most cannot afford them. Within weeks, she was in contact with Richard Wright, president of Wright Auction House in Chicago, who recognized the piece immediately from her photographs.
The vase belonged to the Pennellate series — Italian for "brushstroke" — designed in 1942 by Carlo Scarpa, the preeminent glass designer of the mid-20th century, and produced by the legendary Venetian firm Venini. The manufacturing process demanded a master glassblower rotate the piece continuously while applying precise strokes of colored opaque glass as it cooled — what Wright called a duet between designer and craftsman. Only one other vase in this exact form and color combination is known to exist, held in a private European collection.
Wright dispatched two Italian glass specialists to Virginia to authenticate it. Vincent pulled the vase from a cardboard box wrapped in bubble wrap and a tablecloth, then watched the experts' faces shift from professional composure to undisguised awe. Crucially, the piece was pristine — a single chip would have reduced its value to under ten thousand dollars.
On December 13, 2023, it sold at auction for $107,100 to an anonymous European collector. After the house's commission, Vincent netted approximately $83,500. She plans to use much of it to install heating in the 1930s farmhouse she recently bought — currently warmed only by space heaters — with the rest providing the financial breathing room that horse training rarely affords. As for the vase, she hopes it finds its way to a museum. The responsibility of knowing what something is worth, she reflected, is almost as heavy as the object itself.
Jessica Vincent was browsing a Goodwill outside Richmond on a June afternoon when a bottle-shaped vase stopped her. Spirals of aqua green and amethyst purple twisted up its glass surface like ribbons of paint, and when she turned it over, she found two words stamped into the base: Murano and Italia. At $3.99, it seemed like a bargain for something that looked genuinely old among the measuring cups and candles surrounding it. Vincent, a 43-year-old horse trainer, bought it thinking it would look nice somewhere in her house. She had no intention of selling it.
That changed after she did some research. Vincent posted photos in Facebook groups dedicated to glass art and joined a private community for Murano collectors. The responses came quickly and with an intensity that surprised her. One message in particular stuck with her: those are very rare, someone wrote. Every collector would love to have one. But most people cannot afford them. Within weeks, she was connected to Richard Wright, president of the Wright Auction House in Chicago. The moment Wright saw her email with the photographs, he knew exactly what he was looking at.
The vase was made by Venini, a renowned Venetian glass company, and designed by Carlo Scarpa, an Italian architect who was the preeminent glass designer of the mid-20th century. Scarpa died in 1978. This particular piece belonged to a series called Pennellate—the word means brushstroke—created in 1942. The manufacturing process was extraordinarily difficult. A master glassblower would rotate the vase constantly while it cooled on the pipe, preventing it from slumping, while simultaneously applying delicate strokes of colored opaque glass with absolute precision. It was, as Wright described it, a duet between designer and craftsman, and because of how demanding the work was, very few were ever made. The auction house knows of only one other vase in this exact form and color combination, and it sits in a private collection somewhere in Europe.
Wright sent two Italian glass specialists to Virginia to authenticate the piece. Vincent pulled it from a cardboard box wrapped in bubble wrap and a tablecloth. She watched their faces as they examined it—the shock, the recognition, the genuine excitement of experts handling something they knew to be extraordinary. What made the moment even more remarkable was the vase's condition. It was pristine. A single small chip would have slashed its value to less than ten thousand dollars. This one had none.
On December 13, the vase sold at auction for $107,100. A top European collector purchased it, requesting anonymity. After the auction house took its commission of roughly $23,600, Vincent walked away with approximately $83,500. She had found a masterpiece for the price of a coffee.
Vincent's discovery was not the result of expert knowledge or years of formal training. She had spent years going to yard sales and thrift stores with her mother, watching PBS's Antiques Roadshow and daydreaming about finding something valuable. She visits thrift stores several times a week with her partner, Naza Acosta, whom she works with training polo horses, sport horses, and trail horses. She had always felt she had a good eye, but she was genuinely surprised that no one else had spotted this vase before her. A Goodwill spokesperson noted that each store receives about two thousand new items daily, often from car trunks and basement cleanouts. The vase likely sat on the shelf for only a couple of days before Vincent found it. They will probably never know where it came from or whose hands it passed through before landing in that thrift store.
Vincent plans to use a significant portion of the money to install an HVAC system in an old farmhouse she recently purchased. It is currently heated only by space heaters. The rest will give her what she called breathing room—financial stability that does not come easily to someone who trains horses for a living. As for the vase itself, Vincent has no intention of keeping it. Her 1930s farmhouse is not the right place for something so rare and fragile. She hopes it will eventually end up in a museum, where it can be preserved and appreciated without the constant anxiety of ownership. The responsibility of knowing what something is worth, she said, is almost as heavy as the vase itself.
Notable Quotes
I bought it thinking it would look beautiful in my house somewhere. I definitely didn't buy it thinking, 'Oh, I'm going to sell this.'— Jessica Vincent
The minute I saw her email, I knew what it was and how rare it was.— Richard Wright, president of Wright Auction House
The Hearth Conversation Another angle on the story
What made you stop and look at that particular vase among all the other things on the shelf?
It was the weight of it first, and then the colors. They weren't painted on—they came from inside the glass itself. The way the purple and green spiraled up was so delicate, so intentional. I'd seen painted glass before, but this was different.
Did you have any sense in that moment that it might be valuable?
Not at all. I thought it was old, maybe from the 1930s or 40s based on how it felt and looked. But valuable? No. I bought it because I liked it. That's the honest truth.
When you found out it was a Scarpa, what went through your mind?
Disbelief, mostly. And then when I learned how few were made, how difficult they were to create—that a master blower had to rotate it constantly while applying these brushstrokes of color—I understood why people were so excited. I was holding something that almost didn't exist.
The specialists came to authenticate it. What was that experience like?
Surreal. These are people who handle important pieces all the time, and when they saw it, their faces just lit up. They were genuinely thrilled for me. That's when it became real—not the money, but knowing that experts recognized something extraordinary in what I'd found.
You're not keeping it. Why?
Because I'm not the right steward for it. I train horses. I live in a farmhouse with space heaters. The vase deserves to be somewhere it's protected and seen by people who understand its significance. The responsibility of owning something that rare would make me nervous every single day.
What does $83,500 mean to you?
It means I can finally heat my house properly. It means breathing room. It means I don't have to worry about every dollar for a while. But it also means I found something beautiful and got to be part of its story, even if only for a moment.