I like tattoos. I mean, I'm not a freak about them or anything, but I have two tattoos that are almost ten years old and I still don't hate them, which is pretty cool. Or just lucky.
And I love chairs. Yes, that's right, I said I LOVE CHAIRS. I'm a bit of a design enthusiast, particularly about mid-century modern design (along with about a gazillion other people these days, it seems), and in my opinion, furniture design reaches its apex with the chair. Any schlub can design a decent sofa or a nice table, but it's the chair that challenges designers and reveals true genius.
A few years ago, if you'd asked me which chair I'd choose if I had a few thousand bucks burning a hole in my apron pocket, I would've answered in a heartbeat: the classic Eames lounge chair (with the matching ottoman, natch). Preferably in cherry and upholstered in black leather.
But lately -- and maybe it's the brain-softening effect of motherhood at work -- I've got a wistful hankering for Eero Saarinen's Womb chair, also with the matching ottoman. Ooh, baby... bring mommy the comfy!
(My second choice -- and it's tight finish -- is the Bertoia Bird lounge chair and ottoman. You're sensing a theme here with the ottomans, right? Let me be blunt: life is nasty, brutish and short. If you can't at least PUT YOUR FEET UP from time to time, what's the point?)
Where am I going with this?
Quick recap of topics discussed: Tattoos. And mid-century chair lust. Much as I dig both, they just don't strike me as two great tastes that taste great together.