We got this chair yesterday at the antique store I haunt. It's a nice little chair for the bedroom. It replaces a chair we recently threw out which my grandmother had given me in law school. Yes dear reader, I went to law school for a year (unsmiley face, but no regrets) in Albany, New York, but that's another story. My grandmother showed up one day with an upholstered, overstuffed chair which she had found somewhere. I know I said below that I don't go for upholstered, overstuffed furniture, but this chair was the exception. I dragged it from apartment to apartment because of its sentimental value. It was extremely comfortable and comforting; it was my "prayer chair." I covered it with fabrics and sheets and ticking to make it belle jolie, but finally, it did get old. I mean, it was old when she gave it to me.
This chair pictured here had been in the antique store a while at a reasonable price. I liked it but thought it was a little small for two big guys. Today I went back and the price was reduced and suddenly I found it irresistible. Seriously, I like the pale floral fabric and the carved wood on the arms. I think it goes nicely with Mark Pelletier's watercolor which hangs above (see below). The nice guys at the store said it's Eastlake Victorian. Sounds good! This chair looks very 611 to me.
I said I would carry it home. Then I picked it up; it's heavy! The guys said do not carry it by the arms. Staggering down Sixth Avenue, I tried not to bang into children on training-wheel bicycles and clutches of tourists with street maps out. I felt like Jill Clayburgh at the end of An Unmarried Woman, careening around the streets of Soho carrying a giant canvas painting; you know what I'm talking about, right?
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