Editorial — Collector's Notebook

Honey, Chili Sauce, and the Collector's Journey

Two remarkable Pixieware jars, two very different collecting stories, and a reminder that knowledge and patience can matter as much as money.
Holt-Howard Pixieware Chili Sauce, Honey, and Mayonnaise jars
Chili Sauce, Honey, and Mayonnaise jars from the 1959 Holt-Howard Pixieware line. Honey and Chili Sauce have become benchmark pieces for many collectors, while the Mayonnaise jar helps explain one of the most memorable acquisition stories behind my own Honey jar.

Among all of the standard Holt-Howard Pixieware jars, few pieces command as much attention from collectors as the Honey and Chili Sauce jars. Neither is the rarest Pixieware item ever produced, yet both have occupied a special place in the hobby for decades. Their appeal comes from a combination of factors: scarcity, visual impact, long-established reputations among collectors, and a level of desirability that extends well beyond simple rarity. As a result, they routinely achieve prices that exceed many other Pixieware pieces and have become benchmark items by which many collectors measure the strength of a collection.

“What makes Honey particularly interesting is that its value is not driven solely by rarity.”

The Honey jar occupies a unique position within the hobby. Nearly every serious Pixieware collector recognizes it, and many regard it as an essential piece. Auction records demonstrate a long history of strong performance, with quality examples regularly achieving substantial prices and exceptional examples often reaching levels that surprise newer collectors. What makes Honey particularly interesting is that its value is not driven solely by rarity. There are certainly scarcer Pixieware pieces. Instead, Honey benefits from unusually broad collector demand. Almost everyone who collects Pixieware wants one, and that demand has remained remarkably consistent over time.

The Chili Sauce jar shares many of the same characteristics but introduces another element: visual drama. While Honey is elegant and understated, Chili immediately commands attention. The addition of black dots between the red stripes transforms the appearance of the jar and makes it one of the most visually striking Pixieware designs ever produced. Even collectors who know little about rarity often find themselves drawn to Chili simply because it stands out so dramatically in a display. Among advanced collectors, Chili frequently enjoys an even greater reputation than Honey, not only because it appears somewhat less often but because it combines scarcity with one of the strongest visual designs in the entire Pixieware line.

One of the most surprising lessons revealed by studying auction records for both pieces is the market's attitude toward condition. Conventional wisdom suggests that repairs destroy value, but the data tells a more nuanced story. For common items, repairs can indeed have a devastating impact. Honey and Chili demonstrate that the relationship between condition and value changes as desirability increases. Collectors frequently accept minor repairs because ownership of the piece itself is often more important than achieving absolute perfection. In many cases, the decision is not between a repaired example and a perfect example. It is between a repaired example and no example at all. As a result, spoon repairs and less conspicuous restorations often carry a smaller penalty than many collectors would expect.

My own experiences with these two jars illustrate this principle while also highlighting another important truth about collecting: patience can sometimes be more valuable than money.

My Honey jar began as a lonely base purchased in 2008 for only $28.99. The seller described it as a "headless" Honey jar, and most collectors likely viewed it as little more than an incomplete curiosity. I saw something different. I knew exactly what it was and believed that one day I would find the missing lid. The base spent more than a decade sitting in my display cabinet. Every time I looked at it, I thought the same thing: someday I was going to find that top.

More than ten years later, an opportunity finally appeared. A seller listed a Mayonnaise jar for sale without realizing that the lid attached to it was actually a Honey lid. Because the listing was being marketed as a Mayonnaise jar, most Honey collectors never looked closely enough to notice the mismatch. I did. After purchasing the piece, I separated the components, reunited the Honey lid with the Honey base, and sold the Mayonnaise jar to another collector. What appears today to be a complete Honey jar is actually the result of a thirteen-year collecting puzzle assembled one piece at a time. The story serves as a reminder that knowledge and patience can create opportunities that money alone cannot.

My Chili Sauce jar followed a very different path. I purchased my original example in 2007 for $133.50. It had a repaired section on the rear portion of the lid disc, but the spoon and neck were intact, and the repair was largely hidden when displayed. For many years it served as the Chili jar in my collection. Then, in 2025, I acquired another Chili Sauce jar as part of a HiBid lot that also contained several mismatched Jolly Floral Girl pieces. My intention was never to own two Chili jars. Instead, I planned to compare the two examples, keep the best components, and create the strongest possible Chili jar for my collection.

After evaluating both examples, I retained the superior components and sold the repaired Chili jar along with the surplus Jolly Floral Girl pieces. When all of the buying and selling was finished, the final net cost of the upgraded Chili jar was only $275.49. The result was not merely the purchase of another collectible. It was the culmination of nearly two decades of collecting decisions, upgrades, and strategic sales designed to improve the quality of the collection over time.

Together, these two stories illustrate a different way of thinking about collecting. Many collectors focus primarily on purchase prices. Experienced collectors often think in terms of net acquisition costs, upgrades, component value, and long-term opportunities. The Honey jar was not purchased in a single transaction; it was assembled over thirteen years. The Chili Sauce jar was not simply acquired; it was optimized over eighteen years. In both cases, the final result was achieved not through a single large expenditure but through patience, observation, and a willingness to recognize opportunities that others overlooked.

“The best pieces are not always obtained by spending the most money...”

Perhaps that is one of the most important lessons collecting can teach. The best pieces are not always obtained by spending the most money. Sometimes they are obtained by seeing what others fail to see and then having the patience to wait for the missing pieces to appear.