After living in one place for an extended time, even if they don’t technically qualify as “hoarders,” many people find themselves surrounded by bric-a-brac. Tchotchkies. Knick-knacks. Odds and ends. Ornaments. Items, in other words, that were very likely purchased in those inexplicable establishments that seem to exist simply to purvey purposeless paraphernalia: gift shops (or, depending on the nature and location of the tourist-friendly location you happen to find yourself in, “gift shoppes”).
The Oxford English Dictionary could itself be described as a large collection of bric-a-brac of the lexical variety, and true to form, you can find “bric-a-brac” there. The OED is pretty generous in its definition; it says that “bric-a-brac” consists of “old curiosities of artistic character.” While that may ring true for the stuff sitting on mantelpieces in Oxford, England, the ceramic alligator-shaped thermometer from Miami you’ll find on mantelpieces in the Oxfords of the US are only arguably “artistic.” (Speaking of ephemeral bric-a-brac, you’ll be pleased to learn that there are 24 “Oxfords” in various locations in the US.) And sure enough, the definition you’ll find in the American Heritage Dictionary is more down to earth: “small, usually ornamental objects valued for their…sentimental associations.” Admittedly, I used that ellipsis to gloss over “antiquity,” but at least the word “art” doesn’t appear.
You can also spell “bric-a-brac without the hyphens if you want to, but I think it’s more “bric-a-brackish” with them. It comes from the French expression “de bric et de broc,” which doesn’t mean the same thing at all. The French expression (and here I’m depending on the OED to translate French) means “by hook or by crook.” However, in other places it’s translated as “here a little, there a little,” or just “a nonsense phrase conveying confusion.” Hence my snarky comment about the OED and French. Even though the French original has nothing to do with “stuff cluttering up your shelves,” the sense of slight chaos and randomness seems apt.
“Knick-knacks” are the same thing as “bric-a-brac.” The original word is simply “knack,” which initially meant a devious trick, but later was used for “trinket,” particularly in its repeated form “knick-knack.” The solitary “knack” remained in use as well, and came to mean a clever ability, as in “only Algernon has the knack of starting his old junk car when it’s cold.”
“Tchotchke” is a Yiddish word that’s sometimes spelled “chachka,” and it’s the same thing once again; the plastic “wish you were here” serving tray with the picture of the World’s Biggest Ball of Twine (which is in Cawker City, Kansas) or the ornate picture frame made to look like Paul Bunyan is holding the photo — that one is likely to come from Portland, Oregon, where Wikipedia says the most famous statue of the lumberjack is to be found.
You might, of course, like to consider your own collection of stuff to be on a somewhat higher plane, consisting of items that would appeal to only a true connoisseur. Not just “stuff,” but rare, beautiful curios and works of art that, if not for your discerning curation, might well be enshrined in a museum somewhere. In that case you’d never describe what you have as “knick-knacks,” “bric-a-brac,” or even “tchotchkies” — your version of clutter, you’d protest, is “virtu.” Which is the same thing, of course, just, y’know, more expensive. “Virtu” arrived in the early 1700s from the Italian word for “virtue.” The word itself was probably considered linguistic “virtu” at the time; in England there was quite a fad around then for anything Italian. By now, though, it’s just lexical bric-a-brac.
