Rebstock Design

Love the One You’re With

November 17, 2008 – 4:43 pm

This is a story about a chair. My chair.

It’s an antique—a Morris chair. I bought it for a few hundred dollars at an antique shop on Lincoln Avenue in Chicago, circa 1994. When I first laid eyes on the chair, I knew I had to have it. At the time, I had no idea who William Morris was, but I appreciated the chair’s honey-stained oak finish and its simple and functional design. A streamlined precursor to today’s recliner, the Morris chair has a deep seat with removable cushions, high arm rests, and a hinged back, which moves forward and backward against a wrought iron rod set within paired notches at the rear of the arms. Some Morris chairs are squarish and masculine, but this one had a few flourishes and feminine curves.

There was only one drawback: the cushions. Instead of the original leather or Arts and Crafts-style fabric, they were covered in a in a pinkish, mid-century polyester weave. OK… “pinkish” is charitable. “Barf-colored” is more accurate.

But I took the chair home and set it up in my apartment, vowing to some day find an upholsterer and some fabric, and have the cushions re-covered. The rest of the chair—at over a hundred years old—is as sturdy as ever, and will probably last well into the next millennium. The chair languished in my sparsely furnished Chicago apartment for a few years, and functioned as a landing for coats, purses, junk mail. Because while I loved the idea of the chair, its great potential, the cushions were so ugly that they had to be hidden.

Fast forward to San Francisco, circa 2008, where I now live and practice design. Where I have access to an unbelievable selection of designer fabrics in all styles from all over the world. Six months ago I had a meeting at the San Francisco Design Center with my friend and associate Stacia. After wrapping up our business, we decided to browse a couple of the showrooms. While Stacia was looking at buffet lamps for her client, I wandered over to the fabric section, as I always do, and there I found it: the perfect fabric for my Morris chair. Its color and pattern were stylistically appropriate—not just for the chair itself but for my rug and my other furnishings. The texture felt right, and so did the price. So I requested a sample, took it home, and started to envision my beloved old chair restored to something William Morris and I could be proud of.

I contacted my upholsterer and sent a photo of the chair, asking for an estimate. Because the job was so simple, and the original covers could be used as patterns for the new ones, the labor cost was well within my budget. A few days later I ordered the fabric and delivered the cushions to the upholsterer. They started the work on a Monday, and the very next day the cushions were complete. I took them home, unwrapped them, and fitted them into the frame, then marveled at the transformation. The workmanship was excellent and the fabric was soft and inviting. My cat curled up on the chair and immediately fell asleep.

So here’s the moral of the story: keep an open mind when you buy furniture and accessories, and learn to recognize a diamond in the rough. If you find something you love, even if it’s flawed (who isn’t?), take it home and live with it for a while, and think about ways you can modify or restore it to better suit your needs and your dreams. The experience is fun, educational, and rewarding, and you’ll end up with something very special and unique. If you don’t know where to start, your designer can help.