It Was The Paisley One, In Case You Were Wondering

Well, I think I have come to a crossroads in my life.

I am babysitting my 6-week old nephew today (all day! so nice!) and as he was taking his third nap of the morning (what a life), I was perusing a magazine my sister-in-law has sitting in her living room.

The magazine is full of household decor, and there is one section in particular that goes from room to room, showcasing beautiful robin's egg blue, hand-blown lamps, heavily lacquered dining room tables, banquette sets, and chairs.  The section on chairs is especially enthralling. 

There are paisley green and blue boudoir chairs.  Plushly upholstered, velvet living room chaise lounges.  Armless, loungy, striped library chairs.  Chairs that are perfect for an "accent piece".  Chairs that are meant to be more sculptural than sittable, more of an architectural detail to finish off an already impeccable room.  Chairs that look so soft and comfy that they have completely rejected the classic silhouette of a chair and are instead taking the form of large, billowy marshmallows.  The only thing these chairs have in common, really, is that they are all just exceptionally expensive.

In my former life, I would have looked at all the gorgeous chairs, decided on the one (or two!) I liked the best, and then settled back to dream of the day I would be able to afford that particular chair.  Or, rather, the day where I would be able to afford luxuries such as new furniture on a whim.

Note that I always dreamt of the day.  Not a day, maybe, that might come to be.  No, I always assumed that the day would come, sooner or later.  Preferably sooner.

And today, out of the blue, I realize as I am pondering future seating options that I am no longer awaiting the day.  In fact, I look back at the girl who considered the ability to finance frivolous purchases to be a sure thing in her future and want to laugh at her.  Or at least give her a good talking to. 

"You know, just because you grew up in a privileged home doesn't mean that adulthood = financially blessed.  You're aware of this, right?"

And the old me would just give the new me a snarky smile, look me up and down, take in my household of hand-me-down furnishings, and tell me to speak for myself.

Because she doesn't know about me, but she's getting that chair.

Comments

[wordgirl]

I haven't seen the catalog and even I want those chairs now.

[Lizzie (Mom Unscripted)]

I know what you mean. All I want is a couch. Not the blasted, saggy futon that we have. Ah the day I have a real couch, that will be a good day. We did have a couch last year but it wasn't anything to brag about. Well, maybe but it made us so redneck, it was up on blocks. Seriously our couch was up on little cement paver stones. Oh the humanity.

[kyle]

are chairs what every little girl dreams of? i don't know even know what half of those "chairy"-type words mean.

[elise]

Yes, Kyle. Every girl's childhood dreams are composed entirely of chairs and chair related subjects.

Like throw pillows!

And chenille blankets.

[Cassie]

You just made me absolutely siiiigh with longing. I want the marshmallow chair!

[Hannah]

Can I just have a bed please? A real bed, rather than two mattresses stacked on top of each other and shoved against the wall?
Oh, to have a geat chair would be wonderful, but a bed? Divine.