The Recliner - A Designer's Holy Grail
Marion, don't look at it. Shut your eyes, Marion. Don't look at it, no matter what happens!
So I'm no Indiana Jones. No hat. I don't carry a whip into showrooms. Actually, maybe if I did carry a whip into a showroom it might get me a little more attention. Or if my father were actually Harrison Ford. Or if I were Harrison Ford. Nevermind that.
I have a few favorite terms that I love hearing. "It's perfect", "Whatever you think is best", or my absolute favorite "blank check". When they are uttered in reference to a project on which I'm working, I can't help but get little butterflies in my stomach and see purple unicorns in a daze of utter bliss. It's like a little high.
But then. Something always happens. Did I ever tell you I was related to Murphy? You know, the guy that created that law that we all *love* so much? Yeah, him. I hate him too. Because it's his fault when after those blissful statements are uttered, something is thrown into the mix. A wrench per say. And not even a good quality wrench. It's like a wrench that you get from the gas station because you're trying to change your own tire and realize that auto manufacturers wanted to save weight by leaving out the essentials and it breaks as soon as you try to attach it to a lug nut. No, dear readers, I'm not speaking from experience.
Designers, you can back me up on this one. There is one wrench that is almost unattainable. So rare and distinct that UNICEF continues to host midnight telethons in hopes of saving the last remaining few on Earth. So rare that I could have sworn I saw Melissa Etheridge do a commercial with sad puppy dog eyes and "Help" in big Comic Sans letters. So rare that the last few existing on this planet are more expensive than singular un-cut pink multi-carated diamonds. More expensive than Pamela Anderson's last pair of ... um... nevermind.
By recliner I don't mean the brown corduroy Barcalounger that sat in the corner of your grandfather's TV room with the big wear stain on both arms. Maybe a stain on the headrest where his pomade laden hair used to rest.
Let me post a question manufacturers.... Is it really so hard? You know, sometimes a person just wants to put their feet up and watch TV. In their family room. Without facing the scorn of the other pieces of furniture in the room because the recliner... you know the one... is so damned ugly. And puffy. And bloated with bad foam and overbearing arms. And stubby legs. If it even has legs. Sigh.
But wait. Did I tell you how my Monday went? Can you hear the giddy in my voice? Can you? Dammit unplug your ears already.
I found not one. Not two. But three Holy Grails. If I were Indy I'd have piddled in my pants. Just a little. But not enough to need Depends. I do have some control thankyouverymuch.
The heavens must've opened up. Or at least thought I deserved a break from my water heater drama. And thank goodness too. Because after a brief conversation with the Client discussing just how difficult it would be to find a good looking recliner (that was decently priced), the layout for the husband's office was approved - with four of them.
So just for you, dear readers, I'm sharing the holy grails of design. But I beg of you... pay it forward. If you see your fellow designer friend struggling to find just One. Good. Looking. Recliner. Pass this blog on.
And tell them DCoop sent you.
You know what... buy them a drink too. They probably need it.
Recliners of good design making an appearance:
Flight Recliner by Design Within Reach; Via here
The Paris by Edward Ferrell + Lewis Mittman; Via here
The Sedgwick by West Elm; Via here.
D.Coop was not compensated for this post. Though a Motrin would have been nice.
Images courtesy of the respective manufacturers.