Forgot about the den re-do? If this project was a calendar, we’d just be saying hello to September. You might be wondering how we can live in this unsettled state for so long but believe me, this is nothing compared to some of our previous escapades.
My decorating theme of Craftsman Style Meets American West Plus Pine Cones And A Big Clock seems to be evolving slowly away from the Craftsman Style part and becoming more western. I’ve always liked the looks of this chair and now it fits right in.
The chair was in Sami’s Brooklyn apartment when he moved in. The longest of long time readers here might remember that he had a floor-through in a brownstone that was previously occupied by the last surviving member of family. She was born in that apartment and died there at age 86 leaving no heirs. The landlady did a thorough job of helping herself to all of the woman’s earthly possessions and left behind only a few unwanted bits of Wedgewood, Fostoria glass, rosary beads and some odd furniture. There were two of these chairs in the kitchen. It’s the only authentic late 1800’s piece in the room, not that authenticity is what I was going for. It just worked out that way.
Now this beauty, on the other hand, is something that we found on the street last year. I won’t say it was free because it cost an awful lot in lectures about how I made him throw the car into reverse on a busy street and then I parked in the wrong place and he had to walk so far in his nice suit carrying a dirty chair. But worth it. Take a look. I tell you I could teach those shabby chic people a thing or two. My favorite part of this is the reinforcing piece on the right side of the chair back. Who knows what happened to the original one but it has been replaced with a piece of non-oak wood that’s been hand-shaped. No one bothered to stain it to match and I don’t think I will either. I love the worn look of the finish on the seat.
I like it because it looks very western to me. Hollywood western. Gunsmoke western. I can see a mustachioed sheriff sitting here waiting for the James gang to arrive.
By the way, I started to pull up the carpeting that’s been here since before we moved in. In 1986. You’d never know from looking at it but it’s been peed on by children and dogs and puked on by persons unknown. There’s been spillage. At different times both the nearby toilet and the washing machine have overflowed and soaked it. And the red oak floor underneath it all is still perfect.
And so there we have it. The random piles of crap laying around are slowly dwindling and progress is being made. We say goodbye to the fantasy of craftsman style and hello to the faux reality of Wild West City style. But don’t worry – I’m not going all horseshoes and big rusty stars. I’m only considering things that would look right in close proximity to James Arness.