Intermittent Furniture Anxiety
I undergo a bout of furniture anxiety whenever we have more than about three people over to our house. This is because the only seating in our living room is a sofa and a leather chair that B has had since he graduated from college. This chair is the chief source of my recurring episodes of furniture anxiety.
Prior to the purchase of this chair, B conducted exhaustive "butts-on" research, which in his view was 100% successful. His sole criterion? That the chair be comfortable. I have to begrudgingly admit that it is comfortable. But here’s the thing. It is monstrously ugly. It’s beige (shudder!) and, though it was very expensive (real leather, not Corinthian), it looks tacky and cheap. A blobby matching hassock accompanies it.
I cannot believe there was ever a time when this chair was in style. It’s old, but it does not--and will not ever--have the cachet of being considered “retro.” To put it bluntly, it is dreadful and should be banished to hell, or at least the basement. Instead this thing is occupying pride of place in our living room. Whenever I think, “Yeah. I’m really going to go look for some furniture, before we have our next party,” I am stymied by that irksome chair. I have no idea how to create a decor scheme that would accommodate both good furniture (i.e., the kind of stuff I like) and that monstrosity. Hence the vicious cycle of furniture anxiety.
Friday evening B and I were out walking, and I must have felt some furniture anxiety coming on because I was sucked right through the open door of an antique/second-hand shop we were passing. I tried out a few chairs with the vague notion that I would have some sort of epiphany that would reveal to me that these chairs (once reupholstered) would be the perfect addition to our living room.
However, because of my total ineptitude when it comes to visualizing whether furniture would or would not look good in our house, nothing like this happened. B, however, rather surprisingly assured me that he could find me some chairs now that he “knows” what I’m looking for. Huh? But how does he know what I'm looking for when I don’t even know? Evidently, he glommed on to a comment I made about furniture from the olden days being more suitably scaled for smaller people (like myself). So, I gather, he now believes that the size of a chair is my only criterion. After all, how could anyone have more than one?
When I quizzed him on where he would be shopping, he told me “a children’s furniture store.” Now, I do appreciate that he wants to help out, but is there such a thing as a children’s furniture store? And, if so, I can only imagine that the furniture is spectacularly shoddy, is available only in blindingly bright primary colors, and will almost certainly bear likenesses of Disney characters (or similar). Also, although I am not a tall person, I am decidedly taller than an elementary school child. (What was he thinking?) I'm a statuesque 5’ 4”—certainly off the height charts in any school nurse’s office. I’m fairly sure B’s noble venture is doomed to failure, and I can't say I'm too upset about that.
Prior to the purchase of this chair, B conducted exhaustive "butts-on" research, which in his view was 100% successful. His sole criterion? That the chair be comfortable. I have to begrudgingly admit that it is comfortable. But here’s the thing. It is monstrously ugly. It’s beige (shudder!) and, though it was very expensive (real leather, not Corinthian), it looks tacky and cheap. A blobby matching hassock accompanies it.
I cannot believe there was ever a time when this chair was in style. It’s old, but it does not--and will not ever--have the cachet of being considered “retro.” To put it bluntly, it is dreadful and should be banished to hell, or at least the basement. Instead this thing is occupying pride of place in our living room. Whenever I think, “Yeah. I’m really going to go look for some furniture, before we have our next party,” I am stymied by that irksome chair. I have no idea how to create a decor scheme that would accommodate both good furniture (i.e., the kind of stuff I like) and that monstrosity. Hence the vicious cycle of furniture anxiety.
Friday evening B and I were out walking, and I must have felt some furniture anxiety coming on because I was sucked right through the open door of an antique/second-hand shop we were passing. I tried out a few chairs with the vague notion that I would have some sort of epiphany that would reveal to me that these chairs (once reupholstered) would be the perfect addition to our living room.
However, because of my total ineptitude when it comes to visualizing whether furniture would or would not look good in our house, nothing like this happened. B, however, rather surprisingly assured me that he could find me some chairs now that he “knows” what I’m looking for. Huh? But how does he know what I'm looking for when I don’t even know? Evidently, he glommed on to a comment I made about furniture from the olden days being more suitably scaled for smaller people (like myself). So, I gather, he now believes that the size of a chair is my only criterion. After all, how could anyone have more than one?
When I quizzed him on where he would be shopping, he told me “a children’s furniture store.” Now, I do appreciate that he wants to help out, but is there such a thing as a children’s furniture store? And, if so, I can only imagine that the furniture is spectacularly shoddy, is available only in blindingly bright primary colors, and will almost certainly bear likenesses of Disney characters (or similar). Also, although I am not a tall person, I am decidedly taller than an elementary school child. (What was he thinking?) I'm a statuesque 5’ 4”—certainly off the height charts in any school nurse’s office. I’m fairly sure B’s noble venture is doomed to failure, and I can't say I'm too upset about that.
posted by Rozanne at 9:40 PM
3 Comments:
Hey, don't knock it - my petite mother has bought children's bracelets before. ;-)
What color is your sofa, out of curiosity?
At party time, drape the offending chair with something stylish, hide the hassock, and admire the new pieces you recently aquired!! smile
Sharon
P.S. and consider yourself lucky that he wants to find something for you, and pray that he doesn't.
Jamie, The sofa is slate gray. It picks up some of the earthtone colors of the Arts and Crafts tile fireplace we have. Boy, does that chair *not* go with the fireplace.
But, Sharon, Doh! It never occurred to me to drape something over the chair. I thought the only solution would be a slipcover ($$$$) or getting it reupholstered ($$$$$ and B wouldn't hear of it). And hiding the hassock? A stroke of genius. I am just unable to think of obvious solutions like this.
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