I Surprise Myself When I Buy Furniture

Apparently, I am incapable of knowing my own mind when it comes to furniture. Because I often end a long period of careful research and total agony by purchasing items that are the exact opposite of what I thought I wanted.

When I recently bought dressers for my bedroom, I had planned for close to a year to buy new, dark, modern-style dressers from Ikea.

I ended up with vintage mid-century blonde wood dressers. And I love them.

By the time I'd decided that this sentimental but ugly little piece was not returning to my living room (which I wrote about here), I'd already done some considerable thinking about what I'd want in an armchair.

My house was built in 1939, I like mid-century style furniture, and I like a lot of retro-style home decor in general; but I'm not slavishly attached to any one era, nor do I want everything to be all one style. You may politely call this eclectic or more accurately call this confused, but as far as decor styles go, I have big commitment problems.

I know that I am not afraid of color. Builder's beige and white walls has never been my thing. I want it to look like I, personally, live in my house.

This was sort of a big deal. The chair was going to be a new furniture purchase, in fact the first significant one since I bought this house four years ago. A lot of that was driven by budget and some by taste, but either way, I wanted to make sure it was the right thing. Buyer's regret on furniture can be a lot like a Vegas marriage. It seemed like a good idea at the time, but now you're stuck living with something that only looked good under the showy lights.

I took a good long look at a lot of chairs like this one from Thrive. I heart this chair pretty hard:

Image Source: Thrive

That suits a more 1950s through 1960s vibe, and I like the simple lines. Since my house touches on the 1930s Colonial Revival period, I also considered something along the lines of a more traditional channel-back armchair, like this one featured on Houzz:

Image source: Houzz

I felt very "meh" about the channel-back armchair direction. "Meh" isn't a good enough justification to spend money. And several months looking and thinking online didn't get me to pull the trigger mail-ordering a chair from Thrive. If you're going to invite a piece of furniture to stay in your living room for the better part of a decade or more, you sorta want to meet it at least once before it comes home with you.

I'm glad I did. When I went shopping, I was surprised by the mid-century style chairs. That big boxy mod style is quite popular right now, finally making it a buyer's paradise for people who've loved it all along. But they are deep, front to back. Really deep. Really, REALLY deep. I'm a taller woman, 5'8", and my feet didn't touch the floor when my lower back was comfortably against the back cushions. It felt weird, and I found myself butt-scooting all over the chair, trying to find a comfortable place. They are also very wide. Very, very wide. Which in my narrow living room was going to be a problem.

That can be a problem, though, with almost all styles of chairs. Modern furniture is often too massive and out-of-scale in older, smaller homes.

I looked at a lot of vibrantly colored chairs. My sofa is deep brown, so I knew I wanted a counter-point to all that darkness. But each one seemed a little too....too. Too graphic. Too loud. Too trendy. Too not-the-quite-right-shade of whatever. It was getting pretty Goldilocks up in that furniture store.

This oatmeal tweed chair was my final choice. I am happy with it, but I am surprised, as usual, that I am. Because it totally was not what I thought I wanted.

Initially, I was worried that I was buying the arm chair equivalent of a boob light. Bland. Builder's grade. Typical. Beige. Unremarkable.

But I like the simple lines. I like the toasty, tweedy, almost sweater-like look to it. It fits the space. I like that it plays the low-key tailored gentleman to my much-loved strong greens and wilder rug, and yet still is a good contrast to my dark, dark sofa.

I'm okay with it being a safer choice. Considering the investment and the amount of time I'll have it, I can take bigger risks with paint, drapes, pillows, and other less expensive items.

It partners well with my vintage ottoman, which is a just-right size for my living room.

And though it's not something you can see in photos, it's a comfy yet rather firm chair. My sofa is a little squishy, and I like having a mix of seating in one room. That way everyone can be comfortable.

Here is the entire east end of the living room. I'm looking forward now to painting and getting some drapes on the windows.

Have you ever suprised yourself with your home decor decisions? Did you regret it, or did you love it?

New Year, New Changes

I'm not a New Year partier even in the best years, but this year I spent the evening on the couch with a cold. It was sort of a bummer, but I wasn't going to be out on the town in high heels and a swanky dress anyway, so it's not like I missed anything.

It did, however, ratchet up my cranky a couple of notches putting the Christmas tree away. Come January I always want to get things back to normal as quickly as possible.

One thing, however, didn't come back. It was the little orange rocker:

It gets temporarily moved out every year so the Christmas tree can stand in the front window. I decided this year it was not returning.

It was a nostalgia piece from my growing-up years that, despite my affection for it and my love of vintage, wasn't working. It's too small and out of scale in relation to the rest of the living room furniture, for one thing. Secondly it's so small and light that the children tend to scoot it all over the floor, and I'm tired of it meandering everywhere while scratching the hardwood.

And for a third---well, lets just be honest here. My love ain't blind. This chair is ugly. And that's coming from a woman who loves her some crazy 70s stuff.

For now, a bench is acting as a placeholder until something better comes along.

No, it's not perfect either, but it's at least not, you know-- so orange.

It does look a little like I'm running a Shaker church by way of a Target store with the bench plus ottoman like that. But at least the colors work and the space is filled until something else happens. Most likely an arm chair, but I haven't decided exactly what kind/color/style yet.

My living spaces overall have been mostly serviceable, but I'm to the point I'd like to get them a little more finished up-- paint, curtains, things hung on the walls-- and deciding that the little chair had to go was the first step in that.

It is not gone forever. I'm not getting rid of it, and I'm not going to forsake a piece of childhood nostalgia so cruelly. It's going to return elsewhere in a different incarnation of itself; I'll get to that part later.

In the meantime, this was a good way to start off the new year, homewise-- a small step on the way to where I'd like to go.

Pre-Thanksgiving Foyer Revamp

You know how sometimes you get it into your head that you'll do "just one quick project" before a major holiday, because you want the house to look nice and you think an arbitrary deadline will help you get it done?

Yeah. About that.

I did that. With my foyer. Now, honestly, it was easy to make the mental leap here. I don't have any grand entrance, no two-story lofted ceiling, no chandelier, no staircase. My foyer is barely 4 feet by 5.5 feet, and a small closet is exactly opposite the front door. On either side it opens into the living room, or into our front room (the office). This is no place for square-dancing.

Just like people are glib about bathrooms, I was glib about this foyer. That was two weekends ago. And I'm not even technically "done," I just completed a list of short-term goals.

The woodwork and doors were tired and scuffed, the paint was fleshy beige on both the walls and the trim, and there were even faint drippy stains leftover from a catastrophic coffee travel mug bomb that got dropped on the floor last winter. The whole thing was getting me down. I didn't even take before pictures. So just imagine something in your mind of that sort of tired, scuffed and grubby state that highly trafficked areas get, and sigh heavily. I did.

I decided that the color going on my front door outside could come inside, too. I like how it's setting off all the apple greens and browns in my living room. It's a Valspar paint color called Cinnamon Cake, but done in Sherwin Williams exterior grade satin gloss. It's a bit more subdued and spicy looking in person than is showing in the photo.

The paint on the walls is Valspar's Oatbran, which is a beige that is taupey-gray enough to avoid any pinkish overtones. Super important when you're going with an orange door.

You can also see my vintage foyer light, original to the house, in the upper corner of the photo. You know what also revamps a foyer? Cleaning about 18 billion dead gnats out of the light shade. Who knew?

After having the paint and woodwork painted the exact same color (and a color I didn't like) it's been a pleasure to see the contrast of freshly painted white woodwork with the burnt orange and oatbran colors. And I hung a wreath from Target on the door. Just a wee tiny bit of early holiday decorating. I'm usually pretty strict about that sort of thing, but this seemed more "winter" than "Christmas" to me.

It doesn't solve all the obvious problems in this tiny room. The hardware on both doors needs either refinishing (closet door) or replacing (front door). The torn vinyl is still there, though it's under a new and bigger (though still not big enough) rug.

I'm glad I decided to go bold with the front door, instead of just going with white. I find myself sitting on my sofa with my mug of coffee, staring at my pumpkin pie door. It's just the right color for entertaining guests over Thanksgiving, and they'll be here soon--my sister and her family.

They'll be just in time for my other company's-coming crazy-in-the-head behavior, which is trying a recipe I've never tried before. When will I learn? Probably never. But in the meantime, here's to fresh paint on the walls!

Meet the Newest Member of the Family

We have taken to calling him Bob. We don't know why.

Bob actually joined us a few months ago, adopted from an Etsy seller, and I've been so impressed with how he just moved right in that I forgot to show him off. I like that he's big (12 inches tall), bold, and brassy.

He lives on the fireplace mantel under the sunburst clock.

If it needs saying, I have no trendy plans to spray-paint him white or some ungodly neon color. Just like Mr. Rogers, I like him just the way he is.

I hope he maintains his dignity when I put tinsel on his antlers at Christmas time.

Time for Something New: A Wall Clock

When I go shopping with my sister, we tend to get sort of degenerate with our pocketbooks and crazy (in a good way) with our ideas. Which means, of course, that we also tend to come home from our twice-a-year shopping trips with awesome stuff, like when we hit a major flea market last year. 

So what did I come home with this time? A starburst clock.

I wasn't even shopping for a wall clock, let alone a starburst clock. Don't get me wrong, starburst clocks are the ultimate tchotchke in vintage and retro decor, and I understand their wide appeal. But, with the key words being "wide appeal," prices for these clocks have been climbing into the stratosphere, and I had long ago counted myself out on ever owning one of them. I didn't see some of the more strictly mid-century versions of them being a particularly good fit for my 1939 home--they were a little too chrome and mod for my house.

Also, a little retro rebellion here? I was beginning to feel like the starburst clock thing had jumped the home decor shark a while back. They are everywhere, and I sometimes refuse to do what everyone else is doing just because everyone else is doing it. I can be stubborn that way.

In spite of all that, I found this gold version in a local vintage boutique:

I realized that this clock solved several problems I was having with the space over my living room fire place mantel. I really wasn't sure what was going on that wall. Several ideas had been considered and rejected, and since I wasn't in a hurry to do anything in this room (it's pretty low priority considering the other rooms that need major attention), the mantel wall just languished, bare naked, but certainly not in the exciting way.

I considered framed art above the fireplace, but felt very "meh" about it.

I considered a mirror, something like this, featured in Country Living:

Country Living

But there are south-facing windows directly across the room from my fireplace, and while I like me a lot of sunshine during the winter, I don't care for retina damage.

Dyan was the one who first spotted it, and that's what sisters are good for-- an eye that is not your own, but well-acquainted with your tastes. Sometimes she can make me consider something entirely outside of anything I was thinking about, simply by saying "what about this?" Or if I'm being skeptical, sometimes "quit being a poop and come look at this." Whatever works.

I like that it's a material different from the wood mantel. I like that it's a wee bit glitzy in a room that has a lot of dark brown in it. I like that the shape and the "rays" provide contrast to the very square and blocky look of the mantel. The price, while not a "thrift" price, was definitely reasonable.

I'm still messing about with the items on the mantel itself, but I threw some things up there to ground the arrangement for the purpose of blog photos. I'm open to ideas, though I do really like the Royal Copley vases on the left (my sister gifted me the two vine-patterned ones, and the deer vase is from the flea market trip we did together). Whatever I do it will stay relatively simple; I don't want a highly styled mantel with candlesticks and architectural salvage and dried fruit and bittersweet vine and a carefully selected odd number of items from Pottery Barn. That crap makes me twitchy, and then you have to dust it.

So instead of checking off any item on my active project list, I backed into something else for a different room. I like how serendipity works that way, especially when my sister is along for the discovery.

A Half Post About a Half Lampshade Project

I didn't start out intending to break a simple post about a simple lamp shade upgrade into two parts. It's really not that big of a deal. It was getting to it that was the hard part. One of those weeks where I find myself washing dishes at midnight, still wearing office clothes.

My living room is the least offensive room in the house in terms of what the previous owners did to it. That said, it still needs paint, curtains, some electrical, and art hung on the walls. But it's good enough, and has taken a back seat to rooms in worse shape.

I'm in pretty good shape with living room furniture, and that is the positive that earned this room back seat status. I have a good leather sofa, some vintage tables and credenza, and three vintage lamps. This genie style green lamp is probably my favorite of all the lighting I own.

I am smitten by its green glaze and curvy shape:

It's pretty tall, so finding a shade that worked with it was nearly impossible. I found a shape that worked but that was covered in those fussy grandma's house mini-pleats. I bought it anyway and cut the mini-pleats off. That left me with a plain white shade. Some spray adhesive and some cussing later, I had covered it with an unbleached muslin that had brown flecks in the weave:

I thought the natural, slightly rustic fabric was more in keeping with the lamp's era than a plain white tailored (or pleated) shade. That was about 2 years ago. But I always thought it looked a bit plain.

It needed braid trim, but nothing new looked right. So I waited. Then I happened upon just the right thing in enough yardage from Etsy.

The package was beautifully wrapped, but the inner six-year-old me got ahead of the camera-wielding blogger me:

Trust me, it was gorgeous. Bad, greedy, girl.

It's from a Bristol, England Etsy shop called Pouch, and you can hook up with the link right here. Pouch sells bags, pillows, adorable little stuffed animals, and vintage trims. While there were others trims that made me feel all crafty and want to order more, this was the one perfect for my lamp. Yes, restraint is hard:

......And this is where your half post ends, my blog friends. I am sorry. My durings and afters just didn't get shot. We are predicted to have a gorgeous weekend, which means lots of good lighting for photography projects. I'll be back on Monday with the afters.

In the meantime, I offer the consolation of spring, which has finally arrived in the Midwest (I think). Or at least in my front yard.

Have a great weekend!

Target Bargains: Pillows

I made a quick run to Target last weekend. Don't get excited. It wasn't one of those fun trips. It was one of those "I need toilet paper, shampoo, and a multi-pack of little boys' socks, and how in the world did I walk out of here $75 poorer just buying routine stuff?"

Even when I'm there for the boring stuff, I'm a clearance end-cap prowler. This time I found these: 

My old sofa cushions were looking tired. They have a right to be, because they get thrown on the floor and used as footballs on a daily basis. These have some of the colors in my living room (greens, ivory, and brown) with some extra thrown in (terra cotta and sky blue). They look nice and cozy on my super dark brown sofa, which tends to suck all the light out of the living room (its only down side).

The best part? They were $5 each. No kidding.

To be honest, I'm not sure if they will stay in the living room. I'm not sure if they completely "work." But $5 is way less than most uncovered pillow inserts cost, so really I couldn't go wrong with these, even if  I end up recovering them.

And they do pick up the same colors as items I have planned for the basement recreation room for the boys:

They "go" with these retro lamps and fabric remnant as well. So if they don't stay in the living room long term, there are other options. Two pillows for $10. Now I wish I could get toilet paper, shampoo, and boys' socks for just a Hamilton. But even then it wouldn't be as much fun.