Chair Porn

If you’d asked me five years ago to name a furniture designer I’d have furrowed my brow and asked you to please repeat the question. Furniture was something practical and useful but I couldn’t get excited about a sexy sideboard or a trestle table. Fast forward to 2017 and well, I am the proud obsessive owner of chairs that my boyfriend seems to be hoarding like a kid who collects and swaps football stickers. It began with the Wegner “Wishbone”chairs, that I’m ashamed to say, I thought looked decidedly ordinary, even a bit shabby with their string seats and wooden curves. A lady in London wanted to buy the lot and have them re-strung, my man was reluctant to sell them. “They’re a design classic, we should keep them as an heirloom”. An heirloom? I thought they looked like old-fashioned school art room chairs, he’d be mad not to take the money and run. d03074b520e5609aa91acd832c89dd11-1.jpg

Then the red chair appeared in the bedroom, I affectionately referred to it as the “shopping trolley”. It is in fact an original Bertoia chair in high gloss red. I still didn’t get it. Where was the cushion? What happened to comfort and cosy? This was not high end hotel luxe it was the aesthetic equivalent of…well, a shopping trolley. I immediately relegated it to the bathroom and berated it’s brash colour and uninviting stance. It seemed smug, sat in the corner, judging me…all minimalist and cool. I used it as a clothes dumping ground for a year but then it started to grow on me gradually. diamond_chair.jpg

I didn’t understand why he balked at what I deemed interior design necessities like “objets” and blankets but was happy to pay a small fortune for lights and shelves.  I have come to realise that there is a beauty in their Scandi practicality and that the extra soft furnishings I used to buy were superfluous “fluff” that served no purpose. Please don’t think I’m a compliant, oppressed co-dependent without my own independent thought, that is the opposite of true. I have a very firm view on most things but I have started to see the beauty in the everyday which is somewhat of a breakthrough for me on many levels!

So now, I fully embrace the design snobbery that I previously despised. I coo over an Arco light, remark on Artemide, Flos and Vola. I covert Vitra and Van de Rohe…what has actually happened to me? I guess some people indulge in food or shoe porn, for me it’s become chair porn. I used to obsess about shoes, bags and beauty products and indulge in all things Vogue and Dior but have now stripped back my lavish, luxe tastes for a cleaner, simpler style. I am not fully converted. I still love my Bohemian art, sumptuous textures, fabrics and bold colours. I still hate his silver/grey “polystyrene chair” that is just so pointless it sits so low to the ground it’s confusing. I like the tan butterfly chair and Bird chair they can both stay, but the purple rocking chair that never gets used…? Well, it’s just a glorified ornament like my dusty cushions. Will my style continue to evolve? Who knows, maybe I’ll finally enjoy them in my retirement? I doubt it. We have literally split the house into “my rooms” and “his rooms” because there was no way our styles could fuse. His idea of interior design is a brutalist, concrete bunker with all black furniture…I suspect he thinks the monochrome palette is sexy and masculine like 50 Shades, I disagree. Although I concede that I’m much more open to the possibility of embracing minimalism fully. I’m keeping my French farmhouse table cloth and cake stand but I wholeheartedly agree that less is definitely more.

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