How to Charm a Room Full of Billionaires
An interview with viral Sotheby’s auctioneer Phyllis Kao.
- Written by: Arabelle Sicardi
- Photographed by: Brian Karlsson
On the Sotheby’s rostrum, Phyllis Kao is a conductor in a double-breasted Yves Saint Laurent jacket, orchestrating millions of dollars with a flick of her hand. A former violin prodigy, Kao has become the art world’s most stylish auctioneer: a performer who knows when to hold a silence, when to break it with a quip, and how to dress in tune with the objects under the hammer. She’s become a cross-generational muse and gateway for new aesthetes to appreciate both art and the high-stakes events built around acquiring it.
Even those who would never spend a dime on, say, a $44.6 million-dollar dinosaur skeleton, show up on Zoom or in person to witness Kao sell art to a global audience. Her presence has helped transform art world auctions from a private experience pre-Covid to international theater to watch, with tension, glamour, and wit: enough to charm billionaires into record-breaking sales. In one viral video that quickly became memefied, Kao casually leans toward the audience, egging them on: “Emily draws blood first.”
It is truly fascinating to watch her at work: she can switch her accent from a slightly British tilt to Mid-Atlantic to Middle American at the drop of a time to grab the psychology of any bidder, at any time. Watching Kao work is watching a master perform with the assured slouch of someone letting you in on a secret — a secret that only she knows. Her style has transformed the de rigor mathematics sprint of an auction into a fencing match between bidders.
I met up with Kao a few months ago during the lull between major auctions at Sant Ambroeus. She looked marvelous as usual, with a French moon manicure to match her blazer and bracelets stacked along her arms. Composed down to the smallest details, we sipped coffee and began discussing how she conducts power in every room.
Arabelle Sicardi
Phyllis Kao
You were a classical violinist before becoming an auctioneer. How did that prepare you for the podium? Sometimes it looks like you’re conducting a symphony when you’re up there.
I was a very dedicated violinist all through my teens, aiming to become a soloist. By sixteen or seventeen, I was performing every two weeks, so I got over stage fright early. That experience definitely helped when I stepped onto the rostrum.My start was unplanned — I was working as a clerk, essentially the right hand to the auctioneer. I studied their books, observed everything they did, and after a year the managers asked if I wanted to try. I was young enough not to be scared, and comfortable on stage. Compared to playing the Bruch Violin Concerto in front of one of the world’s greatest maestros, auctioneering felt easy.
Is that a typical path into the field?
Not really. At Sotheby’s, for example, you audition and the process is very competitive. Many people don’t pass. I started in a smaller house where the stakes were lower.
Do you think of auctioneering as a performance?
I do now. With livestreams and YouTube broadcasts, I’ve had to break it down more seriously. In the past, there was just one stationary camera. Now we have full tech rehearsals, teleprompters, and a camera crew. Evening sales especially carry pressure because you know thousands are watching.
You’ve become known for quips during auctions — some even turn into memes. Do you plan those?
No, they’re spontaneous. You can’t predict what will happen in the room, so you have to react in the moment.
I wanted to ask about cultural perspective. You’re Taiwanese American. How do the art scenes in Taiwan and New York speak to each other?
Taiwan has long been a strong supporter of traditional Chinese art, both paintings and works of art. There’s also incredible scholarship from institutions like the National Palace Museum. In recent decades, with fairs like Taipei Dangdai, there’s been a growing interest in global contemporary art, and international mega-galleries are scaling up there. It’s two very different spheres — traditional and contemporary — but both are thriving.
Let’s talk style. You have an incredible suit collection. How do you prepare outfits for auctions?
The jacket is the most important piece — that’s what people see 90% of the time. It has to fit well, allow me to move, and have space for microphone packs. For evening sales I’ll wear trousers for practicality. For charity auctions, where I’m more mobile and using a handheld mic, I might wear a dress.I try to respect the aesthetic of what I’m selling. For instance, I wear a vintage double-breasted Yves Saint Laurent jacket for watch sales — it feels authoritative and classic. For Old Masters, I wore a green velvet Etro jacket that echoed the jewel tones and drapery in the paintings.
Auctioneers have a reputation for being superstitious. Do you have rituals?
I always wear my grandfather’s ring. I’ll do breathing exercises and visualization before a sale. If my mentor is around, he says the same phrase to me each time.
The auctioneer landscape isn’t very diverse. How did you find your mentors?
Mostly through work. They guided me in breaking down technique and critiquing performances. I’d watch other auctioneers and public speakers, analyze what worked, and build my own toolkit. Over time, that built confidence and resilience.
For someone outside the field, what does the work actually entail?
If you’re at an auction house, you don’t just sell — you also hold a specialist role. You need to understand auctions from every perspective: buyers, phone staff, colleagues. You need facility with numbers, empathy, quick decision-making, and a strong voice. It’s a mix of performance, math, and social awareness.
How much preparation goes into a major sale?
I work closely with specialists to understand the catalog and speak intelligently about the works. I didn’t know much about dinosaurs, for example, until I sold one. But once I start learning, I get enthusiastic and dive deep.
What’s it like to be in that flow state on the podium?
Time feels distorted. In the moment, silences feel unbearably long, but when you watch back the tape, they’re not. You’re just hyper-aware.
As an Asian woman, people often project stereotypes of being quiet or subservient — but you’re commanding millions from a room. How did you build that presence?
Experience. Early on I didn’t always get respect, but with time and practice, I developed gravitas. Being multilingual and a musician made me very attuned to intonation and inflection. I deliberately crafted my public speaking voice.
Was there a moment you knew you’d “made it”?
A few. Early on, when the Chinese art market was booming, I began selling bilingually in English and Mandarin. That felt groundbreaking. Later, in Chicago, I became head of auctioneers in my mid-twenties, which showed me I could mentor others. At Sotheby’s, I had to re-audition before the executive board — it went really well, and that was another milestone.
What do you love most about the work?
The combination of performance, numbers, and human connection. I enjoy making people laugh, reading the room, and the challenge of pulling it all together in the moment.
What’s still on your auctioneering bucket list?
I’d love to sell a motor car — a beautiful vintage race car, for example.
Do you have favorite past sales?
The Hope Cup, created for the 1855 Paris Exposition, is one. Also a Fabergé jade hippo lighter that once belonged to a king of England. The stories behind these objects are fascinating.
Strangest thing you’ve seen during a sale?
Once, a man in the front row kept playing sound effects on his phone whenever I said something funny. He wasn’t even bidding — just doing a laugh track. It was distracting, but I ignored him and got through it.
Do you see yourself as selling objects, or orchestrating desire?
We sell objects of desire. Without desire, art wouldn’t be appreciated, collected, or sustained. Auctioneers are part of that ecosystem.
How do you wind down after a sale?
It takes time. I might need a walk, a glass of wine, or just silence.
Do you collect art yourself?
Yes. I have contemporary Asian works and antique Buddhist art, though I’m a generalist at heart. Sometimes pieces live with me briefly before they’re sold, but occasionally I adopt them.
What’s the most beautiful bid you’ve ever seen?
When a high-value lot seems destined to pass, and suddenly a bidder jumps in at the last moment. You have to act as if you expected it, but internally it feels magical. Those are the most beautiful moments.
Arabelle Sicardi is a beauty and fashion writer. Their new book, The House of Beauty: Lessons from the Image Industry, is available now.
- Written by: Arabelle Sicardi
- Photographed by: Brian Karlsson
- Date: November 3, 2025
