I have it on good authority that a competitive Bridge Club once existed a couple of streets away. Elderly Bridge players would spill into the street after their evening games, hurling abuse at one another. I like to think that one of them once owned this chair that I found a year ago in the local op shop. A steal at $15.
I've been thinking about Bridge chairs quite a bit this week. Or, more accurately, I've been sitting in them a lot, and the thinking has come second. You see, a horrible cold, and then a wretched cough, was followed by a back-spasm-ouch-can't-move-without-pain-thing (yes, it was thrown in thrown free as an added extra).
Now I'm not telling you my tale of woe to share the misery around. No, a couple of visits to the local physio will set me to rights again. (Physios work wonders by helping you learn what to do to become aware of your own body.)
The things I learnt yet again were the many merits of the old Bridge chair. Simply put, these chairs are fantastic.
The 1920s and 1930s is described by Steven Parissien as 'a stirring tale of Men and Their Chairs'. Each big name architect and designer did a chair - think Breur's 'Wassily' Chair or Le Corbusier's chaise lounge. And, yet it's these unbranded chairs from that era and the one that followed that are the clear winners in the good posture stakes: well-proportioned so feet can touch the floor, comfortable upright back, arm-support and amenable to a bit of easy recovering (in both senses of the word).
The 1920s and 1930s is described by Steven Parissien as 'a stirring tale of Men and Their Chairs'. Each big name architect and designer did a chair - think Breur's 'Wassily' Chair or Le Corbusier's chaise lounge. And, yet it's these unbranded chairs from that era and the one that followed that are the clear winners in the good posture stakes: well-proportioned so feet can touch the floor, comfortable upright back, arm-support and amenable to a bit of easy recovering (in both senses of the word).
This particular chair is one of four in our home. It's probably the newest and most recent, judging by the simplicity of its arms. It originally came in a vintage floral fabric so vile that I felt my stomach churn every time I looked at it. I'm no expert, but I successfully recovered the chair in this whimsical Korean fabric, which reminds me of windswept dandelions.
But I'm not convinced of this fabric's merits. It's stayed for a year, but I still am doubtful. Some hate it, others say they actually like it. What do you think? And if you hate it, any suggestions for the next covering?
Ow hope you heel up quickly.
ReplyDeleteOn the question of the chair, hmmmm. I like the fabric but there is something not quite right to my eye about the combination which I can't pin point. For me I would probably paint the wood a high gloss black (or Japan black stain and polish with wax) and do a black and white classic pattern fabric eg toile. It would show off the lines of the chair well (esp if you have white walls) and give you a piece that is either modern or classic. If you want to keep the wood as is, I did see something similar, but the person had used vintage travel tea towels as the fabric. It sounds odd but looked amazing. But it could just be it fed into my love of making something new out of something old and quirky.
Hi Ruth, what a fantastic chair! I don't hate it, but I would like to see more of a contrast between the timbers dark stain and the fabric - maybe a rich texture rather than a pattern? I have a gorgeous mid century armchair that my husband found in an op shop,(think Eames style, timber legs and square back). It had vile stained gold floral velour upholstery, which we had re-done with beautiful subtlety flecked textured wool in the most delicious burnt orange. Single chairs in any form are so eye catching, I love when they become a standout feature rather than “just another piece of necessary furniture”. - Tiffany
ReplyDeleteI think I like this fabric but it's hard to say given the chair's location in the garden.
ReplyDeleteIn the garden the fabric works for me, as you say like windswept dandelions, but within the inner darkness or electricity lit splendor of a room, it may not work so well.
It's comfort is evident, though. Thanks Ruth.
I am now glad I asked your advice.
ReplyDeleteRH and Tiffany - I think you've both hit on the main problem: lack of contrast between the arms and fabric.
I was in such a rush to change the vile original fabric that I went for the first pattern I liked, never stopping to think how to show off those great arms. I admit this is a bit of an old habit of mine - liking something in itself, rather than thinking about it in context. Elisabeth, there's a good reason I photographed this in the garden: the chair clashes appallingly with our retro wallpaper. (Oh dear! I fail.)
Anyhow, enough lamenting, and onto a solution. I might trial the vintage teatowels idea, if I can source some intriguing ones nearby, or see if any textured, contrasting fabric turns up courtesy of the opshop gods. Either way, I'm not only convinced to change it, but also have renewed energy for the adventure. Thank you all.