Pink of Perfection

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Nothing captures my imagination quite like trash. Shopping in junk stores and thrift shops is my glorified version of recycling. I love that a discarded object gets a new meaning once it’s in a different context. It’s an enormous charge for me knowing a glass pitcher that was once filled with morning orange juice will now pour sangria at my barbecue.

So much of modern convenience is about disposability, so I love that someone years back loved something hard enough to hold on to it for awhile. When I find it, I adore it more knowing it had a past: I found a pair of red Charles Jourdan heels for 99 cents that I wear upon any occasion; a set of art deco chrome canisters was a bridal shower present to my dear friend; a Girl Scout handbook from the 40’s has proven suprisingly indispensable (do you know how to make an impromptu sick room?). I love old things, once dead, brought back to life again. And the joy of discovery is positively thrilling.
My other motivation, of course, is that I’m graciously poor. I can’t afford every glossy new cookbook I want, but I can afford a dusty 50s tome called Cooking for Brides! And while I can’t buy a gorgeous sofa quite yet, I can pick up abandoned furniture on the corner. That, dear friends, is how the newest member of our seating family came into the household.
When I spotted this cafe chair on a lonely country road, I saw all its unrealized potential. While this knack for creative vision has led me to date all kinds of wrong men, chairs prove a far easier material to work with. I knew a slap of paint and a fresh, modern fabric would transport this classic frame to any left bank sidewalk cafe.
The next time I do this project, I might add primer to the wood. The wood on this chair was so dried out, it sucked up a lot of the paint. If I had used primer, I probably could have saved on a second can of spray paint. Next time I should also be a little more exacting when cutting the seat fabric so the entire underside of the chair can turn out a sight neater. But my scissors were dull and I was getting hungry, and it’s fair to say some of my potential is still unrealized, too.

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