Jam and Jerusalem in Renaissance Italy; Women's Institute Stalwarts and Devotees of Car-Boot Sales Will Flock to the V&A's New Exhibition of Renaissance Home Life. the Sane Man, Sceptical, May Be Less Enchanted

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Byline: BRIAN SEWELL

IN ME, the response induced by the innocuous words "At Home", printed on stiff card, is not that expected by the sender. Not much given to the social graces and uneasy among strangers, not only do my spirits sink, but I experience a nauseating knotting of soft organs in my stomach cavity, not relieved until the polite note of refusal has been posted and the invitation card is thrown away. Those who know me well will understand, therefore, that the latest exhibition at the Victoria and Albert Museum got off to the worst of starts when its curators called it "At Home in Renaissance Italy".

At home, indeed. This is an exhibition of pots and pans, of spoons and forks, of shoes and sheets and sealing wax, of cabbages and things - things, things, things - This is, of course, exactly why the V&A was established - to tell us about things: never mind about the intellectual ideas of the Italian Renaissance, forget humanism and Neo-Platonism, ignore theology and politics, think no thought of Guelph and Ghibelline, of Holy Roman Emperor and Holy Roman Pope, think only thoughts of things. This is the perfect exhibition for those who watch the Antiques Roadshow and the insufferable Mr Cheap-as-Chips, for those who prowl boot sales and Oxfam shops in search of Ting and Ming and Ch'ing; it is perfect for members of the Women's Institute to thrill orgasmically to a Florentine jam-pot that could just possibly have survived from the kitchen of Leonardo's wet-nurse, or experience the Stendhal syndrome at the sight of scissors-that could have cut the velvet for young Caravaggio's first codpiece. This is an exhibition of household relics, and as with all such ancient things, the odour of fetish hangs …