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When considering the decoration of houses I am of the opinion that comfort is king. Life was never promised to us in a neat, easy to swallow pill; the stress, chaos and general madness of our existence suggests to me that when we’re able to manage our environment we would do so with a thought towards an experience of great comfort. To do otherwise would be illogical, which is what makes today’s design and decorating cliché unfathomable. 60 years ago the urge for streamlined furnishings with which to fill new streamlined tracks of homes birthed a vernacular, uncomfortable from the start. And other than the shrill of blind admiration, which has otherwise intelligent people falling over themselves, little has changed all these years later.
“I hate mid-century modern furniture.”
There is, admittedly, an admirable line to be appreciated when a room (or house) is filled to its glass paneled teeth with circa 1950’s ephemera. But I dare you to lounge or to linger on these thinly padded slivers of furniture. Graceful; yes. Comfortable; no. My grandfather was known to say, when asked about his frequent Sunday morning naps, “The mind can only absorb what the seat can endure.” Give me comfort or show me the door, please.
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