A few weeks ago I fell into crazy love with a chair. Like, I actually gasped when I saw the picture of it on Craigslist. Gasped.
And then I drove across Texas with my mom to find it, buy it ($15!), and cart it home. Things seize me like that. In fact, that’s how I get most things done — I feel pulled toward, or compelled by, or obsessed with an idea or a project or a story until I’ve bought, found, written, or made it. I’m the opposite of methodical. Which is pretty fun.
And this chair, like, took over my life until I’d made it mine.
I wish I had it under a cloth right now that I could whip off with a big whoosh. But here it is:
I’m still not sure what it was about the chair that snagged me. I liked the swoop to the back. I liked the proportions. I liked that it was $15. But I’ve seen lots of furniture on Craigslist that I thought, with a little work, could look great. Something about this chair was just special. Or had the potential to be.
It sat in my garage for a few weeks while I fretted over upholstery fabrics and asked around for an upholsterer. And then before I knew it, I’d picked a fabric, the chair was off at the shop, and I got a call that it was ready.
So today, in the rain, my son and I drove to get it. And when I saw it all ready, I gasped again.
My husband has already pointed out that bringing lovely things into our house-full-o-kids is a dangerous proposition (we only have two — but it seems like more). We’ve already placed our bets on how long before a chocolate handprint gets stamped on the seat. (Husband says 4 weeks. I’m guessing 2.) But I’m telling myself the thrill now will be worth the heartbreak later.
(The gorgeous fabrics on the chair and on the throw pillow are both from SwankySwell, by the way!)
I always take a kind of funky approach to love. Like, when I was a kid, of all the Beatles, I picked Ringo. And I do the same thing with beauty. I look for more than the eye can see.