Hello, I'm back, after a more-than-a-year-long hiatus where I've been trying to figure out what I'm doing and where I'm going... Honestly, I'm still working on that (why rush it? har har, *sigh*) but while I do, I thought I'd post some projects that I'm working on starting with this pink chair.
Isn't that cute? I picked the frame up for $20.00 and I had it upholstered in Lotta Jansdotter's Kulla pattern in the color Rosey Cheeks from her Glimma Canvas line. I love it! It's an extremely comfortable chair and it's Heather-sized. I can sit in it with my legs tucked up (like I am as I type this post). My feet touch the floor when my back touches the back (I'm short so that doesn't often happen). And the arms are high enough to be comfortable but low enough that I can knit without bumping them. It's the perfect chair for me, and now it's in one of my favorite colors.
However, for the past couple of weeks it's been in the living room like this:
Hidden under the afghan my Auntie knitted for me when I was in high school. Why? Because I had the realization that this chair, in this lovely color, in this lovely fabric, is a dirt magnet. Full confession: I can be a little messy. I loved this fabric so much that I went and had a fairly expensive, beautifully done, upholstery job done using it, knowing full well of my proclivity to ruin things. I'm the person who breaks all of the glassware in my house. It's so bad that Hun has threatened to get me a t-shirt that says "I'm the reason we can't have nice things."
So it may have been a less-than-ideal choice, which hit home when the talented woman who did the work said that this new upholstery can last on this frame for sixty years! No pressure. Here's the thing though, I maintain that there comes a time in a person's adult life when they should stop making all decorating decisions based upon what hides the dirt the best. I'm not suggesting that when you turn forty you should move to a home with white carpeting and white upholstery, but you should be able to pick a color other than brown at some point in your life... Even when you, not your children, are the person most likely to drop a bowl of spaghetti on it.
I was worried that I would either live with it hidden to keep it pristine, or reveal the upholstery and probably ruin it, but then I thought of option #3 make a slipcover for it:
That's what I'm going to attempt to do. I ordered four more yards of the same fabric to make a washable slipcover, in order to (hopefully) preserve the upholstery. Yes, the irony of spending all of that money on the upholstery only to turn around and slipcover it is not lost on me. However, in all fairness, it was too broken and sagging when I bought it to be slipcover-able. That part had to be done no matter what.
I've never actually made a slipcover before, so I can't begin to guess how it's going to turn out. But this handy-dandy book, that I've had laying around for years on the off-chance that I might want to do this very thing some day, has great instructions. I am hopeful that I can do this.
I'll show you as soon as I'm done. It'll be interesting, that's for sure. I'm trying to figure out the arm-engineering. Do I cover the wooden arms or find a way to make the slipcover work around them? I know which one would be easier but I'm not sure I want to base my slipcover decisions on the path of least resistance. Hmmm....
I'll leave you with this photo I call "Fuzz Butt Snoozing on My Linty Couch." Cute huh? I mean the dog, the couch needs a tape rolling in the worst way.
See you soon,