As-Is, You Win Again.

So two days before we left on our big exciting trip to Sweden and Finland, I took a little impromptu trip to IKEA. At the time I probably could have told you why, but now all I remember is picking up a few things from the market place before I turned my back on my cart for about 2 minutes in the plants section. When I came back, the cart was gone.

If you’ve ever been to IKEA, you know what a fucking travesty this is. Moment of silence, please.

So I circled around the plants and candles about 30 times before deciding that the cart was gone for good, went back to the beginning of the marketplace and sped my ass through the whole thing, having no recollection of what I had picked up the first time around except for a few replacement wine glasses and a tea towel. I knew I was forgetting a few things,* but at that point there was only so much more suffering a person could reasonably be expected to endure, so I headed for the check-out line.

*a vegetable peeler, a corkscrew, and a set of measuring cups.

And then it stopped me, like it always does. The As-Is Section. I cannot resist its seductive siren call of already-cheap items rendered even cheaper by little details like being completely fucking shattered to pieces. Though my personal history with the As-Is section is essentially one of dashed dreams, heartbreak, and disappointment—by which I mean that I once paid $10 for a tabletop that ended up being much too large and on the curb—I cannot skip it. I am drawn to it, like a moth to flame. Like sorority girls to blow. Like Max to his Taylor Swift “channel” or whatever on “rdio” or whatever. It’s like my body spontaneously begins to reject all its organs if I try to leave the building without going in.

Casually looking around for nothing in particular, I noticed a cabinet frame that was the exact size I was planning to put in my kitchen. Oh, and look! Another one! Two cabinet frames, 38% off, totaling $24 in savings.

Irresistible. I could get like 300 buckets of Swedish meatballs with my savings. I could pour them all in a bathtub and swim around in them.

So I swiftly picked up the two cabinet frames and bought them.

At this point I basically wanted to die because I had to load two enormous cabinets in a very small car on a hot day and then I had to go back into IKEA (round 3, for those keeping track) to buy all the hinges and doors and shelves and suspension rail that go with these stupid frames. If you’ve ever bought cabinets at IKEA, this means going to the kitchen section, waiting for an employee, listing all said parts to said employee who enters them on a computer and prints you a list, which then you have to take to checkout, wait in line, pay for, then bring the list to another counter where they give you a number and take your information and you wait and wait and wait for your number to pop up on a screen while you go buy a dozen cinnamon rolls and slowly eat each one, sobbing tears of anguish into the sticky box.

We’ve all been there.

A couple hints: 1) you actually can pay for your kitchen stuff right on the spot when you order it from the original employee. That means they’ll start processing your order in the warehouse before you even get to checkout, meaning it’s usually ready by the time you get there or shortly thereafter. 2) if you’re waiting for a long time for your number to pop up, go get food. By the time you return, your stuff will be ready. (100% effectiveness rate over the course of 1 experience)

But my kitchen, it needed new cabinets. So I did all of these miserable things.

For a long, long time I really wanted to try to salvage the existing upper cabinets, but here were all the problems with that plan:

1. They were horrible cabinets. The shelves didn’t adjust, which made them really spatially inefficient. Added to that, the big cabinet on the right had a big facer (the vertical piece of wood between the two doors) that really limited the amount of stuff we could easily take in and out of that cabinet. A year of frustration and I wanted to send it through a wood chipper.

2. I hate that diagonal corner cabinet. Cabinets with diagonal walls just end up super disorganized and everything in them is annoyingly inaccessible and hard to see. HATE.

3. Keeping them would have meant painting the frames and doors, or doing something with the doors (like on my old vanity?), or just replacing the doors so they match all the other new cabinets, after which I’d still be left with frames I was far less than enthusiastic about. Doing any of this would have been super time and labor intensive for a product that would still essentially suck.

4. The new cabinets that I installed on the other side of the room are 39″ tall, while the existing ones on this side are only 30″. That means that even if I painted the frames or refaced the doors, the old cabinets would still be small and still wouldn’t take better advantage of the almost 9′ ceiling height in our apartment.

I know it seems a little crazy town to rip out cabinets in a rental unit, even for me, but at this point, having already added 6 new cabinets to the kitchen and re-facing another, I now feel like it’s way more important for everything to be consistent and match than it is to preserve any of the “original” kitchen that was installed (badly) circa 1994.

So with less than 48 hours left before we were getting on a series of international flights, I hauled all of this crap home and set to work bringing all of it up five flights of stairs and taking out all the contents of our cabinets.

Totally no pressure. Totally wouldn’t be terrible if something went wrong and I hit weird snags and I left town for three weeks without kitchen cabinets. That would have been fun to explain to the petsitter.

Taking down the first cabinet ended up being way, WAY more difficult than I imagined it could be. Even after removing like 25 screws from the top and the bottom of the frame and about 7 screwed into the cabinet next door, it still took a fair amount of persuasion just to get it away from the wall where it’s been stuck for 15-20 years.

As with most things in my apartment that I’ve uncovered for the first time, the space between the back of the cabinet and the wall had become a veritable cockroach mass grave. There’s really nothing very interesting to say about a bunch of dead cockroaches, I just thought it was notable. We do not have a roach problem anymore, but all the clues point to an insane infestation at some point.

With all the cabinets down, the kitchen already felt so, so much bigger and brighter and all of a sudden everything seemed possible. As you can tell by this chaotic picture.

The green tape line marks 8 feet from the floor and demarcates the height of the other cabinets across the room. Taking the time to tape something like that is so very unlike me, I’m not even sure why I did it.

Now, IKEA cabinets basically hang off of a metal rail, which has to be secured to the wall really well so that everything doesn’t come crashing down. Especially in buildings like mine, where a few renovations over the course of 120+ years have made stud placement fairly unreliable, I like to supplement with intense anchors, and these toggle anchors are my favorite. Each one is supposed to hold 90 pounds in drywall and I find them really easy to work with. There seems to be a lot of confusion about how these work so I figured I’d explain here.

1. This is what your anchor will look like when the two plastic pieces are lined up.

2. To start, move the plastic pieces out of alignment so that the metal piece at the end is vertical.

3. The anchors will say on the package what size hole you need to drill in the drywall, I think these were 1/2″. After drilling the hole insert the metal end of the anchor all the way through the drywall until you feel it come out the other side.

4. Pull the two plastic pieces back into alignment, pulling the metal piece against the back of the drywall. With the plastic pieces aligned, you should no longer be able to pull the metal piece out of the wall. Then push the plastic “T” piece down towards the drywall firmly. When that piece has reached the wall, make sure it is as tight as it goes without pulling too hard on the plastic ends or pushing too hard—the plastic can tear away from the metal, leaving you anchor-less and loveless.

5. Once the T piece is all tight, bend the two plastic legs back and forth a couple of times until they snap.

6. Look! A fancy hole you can put the bolt into, where it will screw into that metal piece waiting for it inside the wall.

So fast. So easy. The suspension rail hangs a bit below the top of the cabinets (which was supposed to be the bottom of the green tape line), but unfortunately I had to drop it another inch or so because at EXACTLY 8′ up the wall, there was a thick metal beam that was not on the other side of the room. Instead of trying to drill into that, I just lowered the cabinets an inch (you can’t tell that there’s a discrepancy between cabinet heights on opposite side of the room) so that I could drill into wood studs and drywall.

And here they are, in all their glory! As you can see, I am a stupid idiot and didn’t buy enough hinges for the last door.

I love the new cabinets from a function perspective—they really do hold almost everything that fit in the older, much bulkier cabinets (save for that big wok on top and a couple things we brought to Salvation Army), but are obviously much easier on the eyes. Also, the old cabinets were hung with about 22″ of backsplash height, so by replacing the cabinets I was able to bring them down to the standard 18″, which helps make grabbing stuff on the first three shelves easier for a vertically-challenged person such as myself.

I know this result is not the best looking thing ever, but just wait! It will be. I have several more large important things to do that will make everything look awesome and not just like I threw up a couple IKEA cabinets and left things looking unfinished and horrible.

I promise.

I think.

One of those big important things is that I’d like to extend the backsplash along the rest of the wall, since I think it’s fucking weird that it ends just *before* the stove (which is where you’d actually want a backsplash, right?). I thought getting 4.25″ x 4.25″ white tile would be the easiest, cheapest thing in the entire world, but after a trip to both Home Depot and Lowes, it’s proving to be super challenging to find a tile that even passably matches the originals. They’re way creamier and just a totally different white—like, cannot-exist-on-the-same-wall-different.

I need a hero. Where do I go? What do I do? I suppose I need to go to a real tile shop or something, but I’m worried that MY WHOLE PLAN will be derailed, meaning my WHOLE LIFE will be derailed, meaning I am WORTHLESS.

 

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The End of the Trip

When I read our itinerary and saw a ferry ride listed as our transportation between Stockholm and Helsinki, I think I just pictured a boat. Nothing extraordinary—it would be long and flat and the interior would be spare and utilitarian. Our passage into Finnish waters would be quiet and uneventful. More likely than not, we would spend it sleeping in a twin cot with a single wool blanket, rocking gently as our trusty ship slid silently over the icy waters of the Baltic. In the morning we would wake refreshed and step out onto the deck, filling our lungs with crisp Nordic air as we looked out toward the rocky shore of our destination, a landscape dominated by evergreens and wispy pillars of smoke rising into the heavens from chimneys concealed by the lush foliage. This would be the boost we needed to prepare us for the second leg of our trip—fortified by some 20 hours of rest and relaxation at sea, we would emerge better students. Better thinkers. Better humans.

A few hours and several drinks into the ferry ride, we grabbed a table close to the stage at the ship’s casino and settled in for the live entertainment, an act entitled “The Freak Show” and recommended by one of the bartenders on the upper deck who described it only as “really crazy dancing.” Seeing as the New York Club and Lounge on the 12th floor wouldn’t be open for another few hours and  dinner had already ended, there really weren’t many other options for how to kill the time. As beautiful as the Swedish archipelago is, it all becomes a little monotonous to stare at for hours on end, particularly when the alternative is some cultural immersion in what basically amounts to a Scandinavian booze cruise.

Of course I’m generalizing here, but the magical thing about Finns is that they’re a very serious, generally reserved breed of human, who simultaneously hold very few reservations about what constitutes appropriate content for their children. Pair this with “The Freak Show,” and you basically have 100 blonde Scandinavian families watching with the straightest of expressions as scantily clad men and women, faces obscured by exaggerated stage makeup, interpretive danced among dramatic lighting, stage-smoke, and a 6-foot-2 drag queen who lip-synced Lady Gaga and Britney Spears songs and alternated her act with a 90-pound woman who actually sang the covers but might as well have just been another drag queen. Now add a drunk gay couple and a few friends from New York sitting in the front row cheering and clapping and dancing in their chairs and you have 100 very confused blonde Scandinavian families and one incredibly relieved drag queen.

WORK. IT. GURL.

Suffice to say we took full advantage of what the ferry had to offer before disembarking the next morning in Helsinki, hungover dumpy messes as we were, before swiftly being whisked off to our first stop. Nothing like a little amazing design to get you back into the groove, am I right?

I am right when Alvar Aalto is involved.

I mean, come on. Come ON. I’m not the type of person to throw around the word “inspiration” lightly, but this place…wow. Those bright white bricks, the terra cotta floors, the Moroccan rugs, the blonde furniture, the climbing plants—it was perfect.  

And then the house:

Just stop it right there, Aalto. It’s WAY TOO GOOD.

Helsinki is really, really gorgeous, by the way. I was pretty upset to be leaving Stockholm (I LOVE SWEDEN), but Helsinki was a pretty amazing substitute. Sweden and Finland are surprisingly very different countries culturally, but both Stockholm and Helsinki have a really nice sensibility about them.

Aside from a few museum visits and lectures in our first couple of days in Helsinki, which I don’t have photos of, we also got a tour of the Marimekko headquarters and factory from the head of PR at the company. We weren’t allowed to take photos in the *top secret* areas of the production facilities, but seeing how they produce the fabrics and learn more about the company was so cool. Imagine very big machines and a lot of employees in Marimekko clothes. After the tour, we spent a couple hours wandering through the attached outlet store, which is a dangerous place. So much cute. So discounted. Let’s not talk about it.

On our last day, we all boarded a bus and drove out to the Paimio Sanatorium, a hospital designed by Alvar Aalto in the 30s to treat tuberculosis patients. Situated in a gorgeous evergreen forest, the hospital itself is, unsurprisingly, stunning. I would totally pay to have tuberculosis there.

Probably saving the best for last, from Paimio we went to Villa Mairea, one of Aalto’s most famous homes. Again, no interior pictures allowed, but do yourself a favor and run a google image search. OMG.

Like, OMG. *dead*

It’s basically everything that is perfect in the world ever. That is my academic thesis on the topic. Take it or leave it.

Then this impromptu matching-Marimekko-shirts-in-a-field-of-fucking-daisies photo shoot happened, because we’re ridiculous whores.

Workin’ that booty tooch.

With the course officially over and two days left in Helsinki, four of us decided to spend our Saturday taking the ferry to Tallinn, Estonia. We walked around a ton and ate a dope lunch and got caught in a rainstorm and had our ferry home cancelled and then almost got killed in a stampede of crazies clamoring to get on the next ferry as if everybody’s entire life hinged on getting a window seat. What started out as a pretty nice day in a beautiful new city turned into an almost funny series of disasters wherein we wondered if we’d ever get out of Estonia or if we’d be stranded forever at the creepily desolate harbor that looked like a landscape from some kind of post-apocalyptic video game.

We did, however, found the hottest new heavy metal group and shot the album cover, so I guess it was a pretty productive day after all:

Buy it at that indie record shop you’re probably not cool enough to know about on 12/21/12. (Photography and graphic design by Maxwell Tielman)

For our last day, two intense weeks of travel kind of caught up with us and we needed to lay low a little bit, which was convenient because basically the entire city of Helsinki is closed on Sundays anyway. We walked around (including a stroll through the beautiful botanic garden) and made our way to a flea market. Of course. What do you expect?

I’m guessing nobody reading this blog is going to be super judgy about my thrifty/flea habit, even when I’m abroad and arguably could be doing other more refined cultural things with my time, but I actually think flea markets are a really fun and informative way to see a city. Especially on a trip like this where we studied the design of this region for two weeks, it’s always interesting to see what kinds of things people choose to sell, what they choose to value above other things, what locals are interested in buying, etc. etc. It’s an easy and accessible way to partake in a standard, rather unexceptional piece of local culture, which you just don’t get traipsing through museums or on the top of a double-decker bus all day. Sure, you might see more, but you’re not talking or interacting or getting a very good sense of the local community.

So I like fleas for more reasons than just being a greedy bastard. (Plus, we went to a lot of museums on this trip and I was a bit museum-d out.)

Obviously I bought some things because I completely lack self-restraint, including that wall-hanging weaving tapestry thingy on the bottom left, which is about 5.5 feet long and will look great once I figure out where to hang it. I like the patterns and the colors and I think it’s an amount of fiber that my apartment can pull off without being an amount of fiber that my apartment could never pull off. It’s probably from the 60s or so and probably handmade by some hobbyist. I love having homespun pieces like this in my home, even if I didn’t make them and have no idea who did.

Also, more Ultima Thule! Glasses this time! I don’t care that they’re weird sizes, they were 3 euros each and are so beautiful. Eleven pieces of this stuff all for super-cheap is not such a bad haul for one trip, if I do say so.

And then we got home and I got to wake up in the morning to this view. After all the pretty stuff we’ve seen, I think this is still the prettiest.

* * * * *

ADDENDUM: In case you were wondering about me and the drag queen (see above), have just received evidence from unnamed third-party source. (My face got all distorted in the commotion, I don’t really look like the monster from Alien. Or do I?)

I am the wind beneath her wings.

Sweden, 2

 

So Stockholm continues to be the most beautiful city ever. (see above)

I love it here, particularly since the weather got incredible and everyone is all cheery and in magical summer-Swede mode.

We’ve had a great last few days here, including on Friday when we got up at the asscrack of dawn to take a special bus arranged by the fabulous Swedish government out to Dalarna, a county northeast of Stockholm. It’s an incredibly picturesque region where Swedes have adorable weekend and summer cottages, where they frolic through birch forests like beautiful blonde nymphs, eating lingonberries from the bush (vine? shrub? tree?), making head wreathes from sapling branches, talking to woodland creatures, etc. etc. They’re like that here.

We started with a tour of Stora Hyttnäs, a 19th-century upper-middleclass home that’s now a museum. Our guide was the kind elderly lady in the first picture who rode up on her bike, earning her the prize of most-unintentionally-adorable-Swede in my book. I mean, look at her go. ”There are 40,000 objects here,” she informed us with an exhausted sigh.

The real impetus for the trip was to see the home of  famed Swedish painter, illustrator, and national hero Carl Larsson—a place that basically inspired all of Swedish residential design since the turn of the century. It was kind of a big deal.

There weren’t any pictures allowed inside, so apparently I took this one of the outside and decided that was good enough?

It looks like this, basically. Larsson paintings are reproduced all over Sweden. Everywhere you look, BOOM. Larsson. Pretty amazing to see in person.

AND THEN THE WEEKEND CAME.

Two days in Sweden, two boys who like to thrift, nothing on the agenda. I’m pitching the reality show now.

Heart racing. Hands shaking. I was BORN to thrift in Sweden. This was to be my moment. This is pretty much how it went:

Saturday morning: “Oh, let’s get haircuts” says Max. “It’ll be nice, we’ll feel all refreshed, and we can always go to the flea markets after.”

“But you have to get there early!” I wail. “And they’ll be over later, and OMG YOU’RE RUINING MY WHOLE LIFE.” *tears*

I might have overreacted. I was hellbent on thrifts and Max was determined to refresh his Hitler-youth hairstyle and—absent my spoilt-child greedy emotions—I had no defense.

I’m not bitter anymore. It’s fine. Our hairs look better. I’m totally so over it don’t even worry I didn’t even want that fabulous ________ I would have found had we started earlier as planned. 

Don’t get in the way of me and my thrifts.

We found some rad stuff though, at a combination of thrifts and fleas, like this weird PH-style light fixture that was marked at all of about $7. I don’t even really know where we’ll put it, and it’s really not worth much (from what I can figure out, I think it’s basically a knock-off of some other “inspired by” design) but SEVEN DOLLARS? That’s less than a Chipotle burrito. Plus, brassy details. I mean come now. No choice.

More stuff? Of course. Clockwise:

1. Old Konica film camera—super bare bones, super cheap, should be fun to shoot a couple rolls on.

2. Three brassy candlesticks! Brassy brassy brassy!

3. Found about a trillion of these wood cabinet door/drawer pulls at Myrorna (basically the Swedish Goodwill) for about 25 cents each, so I bought 24 of them just to give myself the option of using them in my kitchen. I know you’re thinking that it’s a bad idea, but combined with the other stuff I have planned, I think they might look amazing. Might. I’ll sleep on it before I drill any holes.

4. Geode tea light holder. If I have two sets of geode bookends, two geode coasters, and now this, does that make me a rocks and minerals enthusiast? Collector? Weirdo?

5. On Sunday we went against all the advice and visited a HUGE flea market (marketed as the biggest in Scandinavia) in Varberg, which was basically a sprawling dark disaster in the basement of a mall filled with old cell phone chargers and Ricky Martin CDs. As various online sources claimed it would be, it was too junky and generally un-fun, but we did come away with a few good things including this Stig Lindberg teapot pitcher thing from the Bersa Collection (it has no top, so what’s it really for?). The price was really low because there’s a teeny tiny chip up by the spout, but Max really wanted it so we coughed up a little cash to take it home.

6. I’ve been slowly accumulating pieces from the Ultima Thule set, designed by Tapio Wirkkala for iittala in 1968. The tumblers and highballs have long been at the very top of my list of dream glassware, but seeing as they are crazy fancy I don’t dream of actually owning them anytime soon. I have been able to dig up 3 smaller dessert bowls, one larger bowl, and a small sugar bowl and creamer from various places though, which I’m so excited about. The pictures really don’t do them justice but they’re gorgeous.

One of the best finds of the weekend was definitely this sexy Edixa Reflex camera. I did some digging and it looks like it’s from Germany and was made in 1955, a very very early 35 mm SLR. It’s beautifully designed and built and in incredible condition and was only about $30. We’ll see how the film turns out, but honestly—just look at it. It already delivered as a fancy hipster prop when I got photographed by somebody I think was a Swedish street-style photographer? If you see a haggard-looking boy with a good-looking camera floating around the internet, it might be me. So basically now I’m a supermodel. Be impressed.

(the photo of me above was take by Max with Instagram. He’s killing it with photos of our trip, by the way.)

Hej!

I know this already seems like the year of extravagant travel, which is kind of because it is, but Max and I went back on the road about a week ago. If roads went across oceans? All the way to SWEDEN. This is yet another example of something that is old news on the Twitter and Instagram but blog-only old-school folk would have no way of knowing about. So here you go. That’s what’s up.

We’re both taking a two-week intensive graduate seminar on Scandinavian design through Parsons, where Max is getting his graduate degree. As an undergrad at NYU, I just weaseled my way in with my mediocre looks and social awkwardness and creepy obsession with the Swedes. That’s just how I do.

Obviously visiting Stockholm is a long-time dream come true, having been infatuated with this country, its people, and its design sensibilities for years. I am not disappointed. Everyone is so lovely, the city is so easy to navigate and get around, and everything looks so amazing that it makes me want to puke.

OH, SWEDES. I love you. You are so efficient and friendly and clean and kind. And did I mention sexy? Because HOT DAMN. Sexy sexy Swedes all around me. Normally I’d be annoyed because good looking people genuinely upset me but not if they’re Swedish.

(Aside: when we checked into our hotel at 2 a.m. after about 24 hours of travel, Martin at the front desk offered us a “sweet snack” or a “salty snack” and gave us a form with two boxes so we could check one. Thinking about this still makes me immeasurably happy. ”Salty snack.”)

The itinerary is packed but I’m trying to sneak in some thrifting where I can get it and making Max insane with my lunatic antics. Even if he’d rather lay down and die in the street, I’ve been dragging him off down quiet roads and across long bridges and into weird places the internet told me to go only to end up at stores that only sell vintage records or retro women’s clothes. He likes it. That’s what I tell him, anyway.

I love little vintage Dala horses, especially when they look a little rough and tumbled and distinctly handmade like these two. Also, that happy happy tray. Irresistible.

Among some other random stuff we picked up is this little shallow West German bowl with super trippy glazing inside. We’ll use it for something.

Goofy amateur brown studio pottery abounds at Stockholm thrifts and it’s taking all my willpower not to buy it all. But the suitcase is only so big and my chances of successfully transporting everything home are only so realistic so I’m resisting. I know these particular items will be *controversial* (loathed by most) but fuck it, I love these little blobby candlesticks, and for only $2 I’m 100% allowed to. I know they look like alien poops here but once they have candles and are on my mantle you’ll be singing a different tune. JUST WAIT.

I should probably note that the educational opportunities on this trip are totally amazing and, it should shock you to hear me say, totally outshining the whole thrifting situation. We’ve had a couple great days in the NationalMuseum, Drottningholm, Skokloster (AMAZING), the Nordiska Museet, Skansen, a lecture on IKEA—all amounting to the conclusion that Sweden is Where. It’s. At. We have a fantastic syllabus with fantastic readings and teachers and curators around every corner telling us what things are and happy to field questions constantly. Truth be told it’s been a while since I felt quite so enthusiastic about school and learning stuff and doing assignments, but this is different. I’m among the Swedes, after all.

Can I just say, though—these tea towels are fucking cute. If I can’t be renovating my kitchen then at least I can be buying small jolly things for it to use when it’s done? This has been my logic for the past year now. Speaking of, a little progress happened before I left and I even took pictures, so let’s hope I have some time to put together a post or two before I’m back in Brooklyn. Shockingly, I have already hit some unforeseen speed bumps and I need an internet hero to set me on the right path.

What am I saying? I already need that right now in this very moment. The Google machine has been iffy about where the good vintage is at in/around Stockholm. We have the weekend free, so do any beautiful residents of this magical land have any recommendations for a flea market or several? Or any particular stores or areas or things I should really know about and check out? Tell me everything you know! I demand it!

Rocker

One of the things that I love about Eames shell chairs is how versatile they are by design. Take out four screws, pop on a new base, and BLAM-O, your desk chair on casters just became a lounge chair! Or a dining chair! Or a school desk! Or a bench at the laundromat with pieces of ABC gum stuck and hardened on the bottom! Like magic.

I bought that blue shell about a year and a half ago when I was visiting Chandler in Portland. The original naugahyde upholstery had seen MUCH better days, so I made the decision to just strip off the upholstery, restore the shell, throw a 4-star contract swivel base on it, and cover the screw holes on the seat of the chair with an IKEA sheepskin. Like so:

That’s the other great thing about the original fiberglass shells—they’re INCREDIBLY durable and even the crappiest-looking, saddest, down-n-out washed-up piece-of-shit chair can be brought back to gleaming, glorious life with a few simple steps and only a couple potentially hazardous chemicals. I can’t stress enough: when it comes to shells, vintage is always, always best.

I talked some jive after the restoration about replacing the base with a rocking base and using it in my Manhattan living room, but I found a dining table instead so the chair remained a desk chair through my move to Brooklyn. Using it as a rocker was always in the back of my mind, but there hasn’t been a great spot for one here, either.

UNTIL NOW.

Hello, baby. You are so ubiquitous and I love you.

I finally bit the bullet and purchased a rocking base (black metal with birch runners) from the Modern Conscience eBay shop. For 95 bucks plus super cheap $4 shipping, it’s basically a whole new chair for just under $100. So worth it. The base is really nice and seems very well-made and assembly could not have been easier. I can also say that there was a slight hiccup with the shipping but the customer service at Modern Conscience was extremely responsive and remedied the situation quickly and efficiently.

For serious stalkerz, don’t you worry—Bertoia Diamond is still around, just not in this same spot. The living room has been feeling a little stale and I needed to shake things up. Yes, white Bertoia set against black pocket doors totally brought the high-contrast drama, but bright blue rocker brings some summery colorful fun or whatever that I love.

The other great thing about these chairs is how petite they are, taking all the comfort from a big lounge chair but none of the size. It’s comfy and cozy and a place people actually want to sit, but appropriately scaled to smaller spaces. It’s also super duper light, so it’s easy to move around all the time to wherever my finicky heart desires.

I also like having this chair in the living room because it plays off the blues in the rug super well. That’s not usually something I spend too much time worrying about, but I do like when really different pieces coordinate instead of trying to get all matchy-matchy with shit.

This chair is the best of all the chairs. To review:

1. Versatile.
2. Durable.
3. Small.
4. Cute & colorful.
5. Comfy.

I don’t care that everyone and their mother has one. I love it. I love it so much.

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