After a few hours at work yesterday, I came home to wait for the chair and cushions to arrive. As it was carried up, I found myself a bit frightened by my bold choice of fabric. Now, the chair exceeds all my expectations. Rebuilt from the wood up, the broken springs replaced, the wood treated, and the legs refinished, the chair should now be good for another eighty years.
I remember my grandpa Gunny sitting in it in a corner window at 2439 A street. I remember grandma sitting in it reading by the light of the same window.
It was a crème boucle when I was 12, then after grandma died, mother upholstered it in a dark textured blue. For a while Lenora owned it, as she still does, and she upholstered it in a dark blue patterned fabric. When I got it back, I had it slip-covered in white. But the damp and mold in the big house had done their damage. The chair itself reeked of mold. I banished it to the garage.
When this last trust was disbursed, one thing I wanted to do was resurrect this most comfortable of chairs. Bravely I chose a plaid fabric that would work with the deco spread G had chosen as well as the colors in the room.
I’m just as pleased as punch.