A PERIPATETIC SOFA & ITS COAT OF MANY COLORS
Travel along with me and enter the zeitgeist of my peripatetic sofa as we roved through many, many incarnations!
Once upon a time, I decided to try solo living and move a few blocks away from my large rental house on the beach. It was a great property and my roommates could easily find a replacement.
I assured my new landlord I would never, ever want to vacate the stunning haven he had newly created over a double garage——meaning a “two Volkswagen bug-sized garage” with an alley view.
“All right,” he optimistically said, “let’s give it a try.” I met my husband the next month, after I signed the year lease.
In the meantime, it was my first opportunity to decorate and that desire had been percolating on my back burner ever since I discovered the heartless truth at University that the Interior Design branch was under the Home Economics umbrella with a requirement of Chemistry & Physics. The brutal truth is I clearly knew the “math problems” in chemistry would be my “problems”. New major——History and Education.
The sofa was white wool. Who in their right mind would buy a white wool sofa to hang out at the beach? Hmmm…
It was not a confrontational sofa, but it demanded most of my living area and when it teetered up the slender handmade rickety wooden staircase, its girth was revealed. Tucked inside was a heavy queen size bed!
I happily looked forward to my parents visiting my new lair and resting on the sofa bed when I heard a throaty whisper, “Thanks, it’s serendipity to have a home. I love your choice of white wool fabric.”
“You talk!” I screamed.
“Just to you! No worries——only a mini-interlude——my new rhythm and pace——, you know, I’m mostly a ‘sleeper!”
(I had high hopes that was our one and only conversation.)
Fortunately my landlord, albeit a little tersely allowed me to break my lease. This was only the tip of the iceberg.
Our sofa, “IVY” was on the move and taking two of us along with her.
My husband, Ivy and Me moved inland to a rental that Ivy disliked. To please her, we bought a house with a view. I was beginning to follow her directions!
Optimism ruled. Perfect!
Almost!
Seven months later, my husband was offered an Assistant Professorship in Long Beach. We moved. Ivy adored our delightful rental in Naples, CA as it nestled on the corner of a picturesque canal where we brought our first precious daughter home.
Never assume, always presume!
Private time. Ivy was an irrepressible eavesdropper and heard the word——Idaho. She whispered, “I’m staying.” We suggested a furniture psychologist. Nope!
Ivy: “I like you——I ‘really’ like you.” Us: “You’re moving.”
All in all, we moved, she moved, but believe it or not——ten months later, Ivy happily agreed to move to Hermosa Beach, CA with us. USC offered my husband a teaching contract with a salary and reduced tuition to complete his PhD.
Ivy sang, “California, Here We Come” all the way back.
And so our behemoth was moved and moved up, down, in, and out.
We were back on the beach. The moves took a toll. She sat huddled in a dismal gray with baby and child stains artistically interspersed between cocktail party and house guests’ stains.
I came up with a savvy solution. Why not hide the stains with a custom professional dye job in a lush forest green? The “professionals,” said, “Good choice!”
Truth is, bad choice. The green was murky and swampy while each stain took on its own aggressive hue. After a few weeks of passing with our eyes averted, IVY actually yelled to me, “I have no more self-esteem or dignity. Do something! I need a real face-lift!!”
Out the door and back in came a new pragmatic brown naugahyde Ivy, making realistic beach wear sense.
Two years later we were now a family of four with a treasured second baby girl. Another hither and yon move to a home we would cherish in the San Diego area and an esteemed University position for my husband (where my husband retired as Professor Emiritus). Ivy was smitten with a long term residency.
When we moved her to our family room Ivy looked sartorially ugly and started to whine. I tersely told her in a raised voice, “No! No more cosmetics for you. I’m going back to school. My time——my turn.”
Because sofa Ivy was seriously addicted to us, she knuckled down to mellow and wait her turn. And what a turn! “Oh boy.”
Her naugahyde really did not look like leather in this brightly lit room! What are the odds?
Luckily for her, at least I thought so; I studied Environmental and Interior Design at San Diego State University, began a design career and became a member of ASID. Best of all, I worked with Dusty, my blue-chip upholsterer.
I asked Dusty to slim down Ivy’s solid two seated cushion back and replace it with six down cushions and build up the sloping arms to back height. A practical and handsome fabric was next.
My thought was a canvas that could be whisked off and dumped in the washing machine and whipped back in place, but this was early in the game of canvas upholstery weight fabrics in showrooms. Nada!
I would wing it!
AAron Brothers sold artist canvas. But I would need extra yards, because unbleached and unprimed canvas shrinks and ravels. A vortex of long tangled fringe appeared every time it was washed and re-washed before it was ready for Dusty’s magic touch. I persevered. Ivy smiled.
Characteristically, time and the dreaded bargain-basement guise. Granted all the cushions could be bleached and washed but its outer limbs, the sides and backing would not fit in our washing machine.
That intractable sofa never wavered when our teen age daughter approached with a can of white latex paint. Beautiful!
We next painted it blue. Eventually we painted wide white stripes on the blue. Ivy said, it was her favorite incarnation.
We/she kept evolving.
After repainting it white, I added bright quilts. A bit of grime, out came the roller to recreate a pristine back.
Before dinner guests, ”Honey, do you mind painting the sofa again?”
Expressing my final thoughts on our sofa parody, I did not want it to be up for grabs in the crowded world of used furniture at a re-sell-it shop. We called a charity that supplied items to needy families. They knew of a family who needed seating!
Our sofa was hoisted on sweet shoulders and then onto a small worn-out truck as we waved good-by to a lovely family and a beloved sofa.
Ivy and I had a private moment where she whispered, “I had a fantasy life. Thank you for not letting me be adrift in no-man’s-land.”
We closed and locked our gates. Our family would forever have happy memories of a long journey, we shared with a piece of furniture——a sofa——and its comfort——and its coat of many colors.
There is always a choice to reinvent, refresh and renew. In this case it was a piece of furniture——an elixir to create. That stalwart hunk of upholstery was willing to shed personas and become a catalyst for blossoming new looks. We had fun and then, astonishment——a new look!
There is still equilibrium to the universe after all.
I kept my sofa out of the landfill.
I rest my case!
Did we sit ON our sofa a lot? We did, hence we have barely a single photo OF HER! Her quilt incarnation.
(This was the best I could find!)
Sy’s Salient Points: Ivy, our lionhearted sofa personified a “what-if” lifestyle. She continued to sparkle as we waved good-bye!
Picture: Partial family room with view of solarium.
HAPPY SUMMER VACATION BLAIRE DARLING