The taste of fraud: The liquorice trail in the Pallot Forgery Trial

Known for his distinctive long hair and three-piece suits, Pallot has been described by Vanity Fair as "the world's leading expert on the works of 18th-century France", while Paris Match branded him "the Bernard Madoff of art".

According to the indictment, Pallot collaborated with restorer Bruno Desnoues (and four others) to fabricate highly convincing replicas of 18th-century furniture. These pieces weren’t merely physical imitations; they came embedded with detailed, plausible provenance and art-historical narratives meticulously designed to deceive seasoned collectors, museum curators, and even France’s own cultural institutions. The illusion was so compelling that forged items were not only sold for millions but also praised as national treasures.

Before the headlines and the courtroom drama, however, there was a quiet moment of absurdity in a Parisian gallery, a moment that would deliver the first piece of real evidence in the case. 

It was 2012 when Charles Hooreman, Bill Pallot’s former student, found himself alone in the Aaron Gallery showroom with two wooden folding benches (ployants). Tagged as relics once owned by Princess Louise Elisabeth, daughter of Louis XV, the benches looked like genuine aristocratic articles. But something felt off. And so, in what can only be described as a connoisseur’s leap of faith (or madness), Hooreman did the unthinkable: he licked one.

The taste confirmed his suspicion. It was liquorice. To a layperson, this may not have been alarming. But to Hooreman, this was a red flag. He recognized the subtle but unmistakable flavour as a hallmark of a specific wood-aging technique, a trick employed by a Parisian gilder known for melting down liquorice to simulate the chemical residue of aged patina. That craftsman, Bruno Desnoues, was not just any artisan. He had worked closely with Pallot for years. Hooreman, having observed these techniques in action, understood exactly what he was tasting: forgery.

Hooreman documented his suspicions in a formal letter to French authorities, which eventually triggered an investigation by the French Police. According to a 2018 article, Pallot’s reaction to being outwitted by his student was characteristically wry. He said something along the lines of “[Hooreman] always did love chairs!”.

Following the investigation, it emerged that the alleged scheme began in 2007, when Pallot and Desnoues fabricated two chairs “by Louis Delanois” (a sought-after furniture-maker) and successfully sold them to the Château de Versailles. Initially, the plan was little more than an academic prank, an inside joke between craftsmen and scholars, meant to test the limits of expertise. But after the chairs were accepted by one of the most revered institutions in the world, the prank evolved into a fully-fledged enterprise.

Over the years, the duo produced and sold at least ten forgeries, many of which found homes in public institutions and private royal collections. The forgeries were nearly flawless, both technically and contextually. Each chair came paired with a fabricated history, references to archival inventories, and links to notable historical figures such as Marie Antoinette or the Comtesse du Barry.

During a hearing on 26 March 2025, when talking about his association with Bruno Desnoues, Pallot is reported to have said “I was the head, he was the legs” to which Desnoues quipped “I was more the hands, technically”.

And expert hands they were. Several of the pieces were vetted by top experts and inspected by museum curators. In one instance, when questions were raised about the Madame Élisabeth bergère bought by Versailles, the head curator pointed out that Louvre conservators who inspected it had voiced no objections, and scientific analysis of the wooden frame was inconclusive — illustrating how easily modern replicas can evade traditional authenticity tests in furniture.

Two of the chairs were even declared National Treasures by a French cultural advisory commission in 2013, a designation that temporarily restricted their export while Versailles considered acquiring them officially. When the palace eventually declined to buy them, the chairs were sold to a Qatari royal for 2 million EUR.

The fallout from the case has been profound. It sparked internal audits, academic embarrassment, and public scrutiny of museum acquisition policies. A 2016 internal review at Versailles found “serious dysfunctions” and a “lack of vigilance” in the palace’s acquisition procedures. As a result, new protocols were implemented to enhance vetting processes and documentation requirements.

A verdict is expected on 11 June 2025.

Pierre Valentin and Nicole John