I’ve been putting it off for a while, but there’s no avoiding it – we need to get a replacement couch/settee/chesterfield/sofa … so many terms to choose from.
I say ‘replacement’ rather than ‘new’, because we have cats. Many’s the time in a furniture showroom I’ve looked longingly at a snow-white, down-stuffed sectional, nearly drowning in throw-pillows, wishing it could be mine. But such would be the path of folly. It would barely be settled in the living room before Ziggy, Houdini, Grumbles, Leo, Butterscotch, Tango, LeeLoo, Sam, Millie and Chiqui descended upon it, claws extended, eager to test the tensile strength of the beautiful fabric.
Parents of very young children probably have the same concerns about grape juice and the like, although I’ve been in homes of friends with at least one toddler roaming around, and their furniture is pristine. I’ve often wanted to turn over the cushions, when no one is looking, to see if they have a stained side, but somehow I suspect that I would find nothing. Some people know how to keep things looking just so, and others (like us) find we’re in a losing battle.
Our present set was a secondhand purchase, and we’ve been happy with it for years. But, like any furniture, it’s seen better days. And my bestie and housemate, Lynne, who is not a big person, is finding herself sinking down further and further into her particular seat cushion as the weeks pass. (She’s such a complainer. I mean, just because your feet are practically up in the air when you sit down, is that really a good enough reason to kick a couch to the kerb?)
Yada, yada, yada … the hunt for its replacement started a few weeks ago.
I first scoured the listings on Facebook marketplace pages and local websites. It’s amazing how many shapes, sizes and designs of couches there are in the world. We need a sectional, so any standalone models were out. Although, I confess, my gaze lingered on a most impractical choice that I spied for sale. It was a French Versailles-style piece. Ornate, with curved legs, built-in cushions and gold trim. Beyond the fact that it looked like it belonged in the drawing room of Downton Abbey, it certainly wouldn’t encourage watching TV in one’s pyjamas, feet up; this thing was a spine-straightener. I don’t know why I was drawn to it – I think I’ve watched too many episodes of ‘Antiques Roadshow’. Anyway, I dragged my eyes away and continued looking.
After a few days, I found a couple that I wanted to see in person. And, may I just add, that these were both legitimate listings. For some odd reason, scam artists have recently used sectionals as their bait of choice. Unaware of this shift from designer handbags listed for ridiculous prices, I fell for it … once. I saw the pictures of exactly what I was looking for, AND it was cheap. I reached out immediately, only to be given the runaround for about 30 lines of conversation, where I kept trying to pinpoint when and where I could see it, and the seller threw out different district names like they were checking the electoral register. I finally twigged that it was all a load of nonsense, blocked them and gave up. I couldn’t understand the point of the game, but I suspect at some point they would have asked for a deposit to ‘hold it’. I just got out before that stage.
Anyhoo, I made plans to see the two that were legit, and managed to book the appointments back-to-back on the same afternoon.
Long story short, I didn’t purchase either of them, but something I noticed with both is how close to the ground they were. When did low-sitting furniture become a thing?
The more I thought about it, the more I realised that I’ve recently visited bars and lounges that are furnished in the same way. Once you’re down, you’d better have a very good reason for getting up again. I bet it’s created a spike in the Depends market.
Either my knees are bent up in front of me for my feet to be placed flat on the floor, or my legs are stretched out. As it is, with my pathetic present level of fitness (see: sedentary) I have to mutter the ol’ “1, 2, 3 …” under my breath to rock into a standing position from a normal-height chair. If there was a fire at any of these joints, they’d find my charred remains still sitting there, cocktail in hand.
I need couches and chairs that allow my knees to rest at a right-angle, and that doesn’t seem to be what’s hot in the home goods world right now.
Of course, I’m not the only one to be considered. My best friend just happens to be seven inches shorter than I am, so I have to find something that works for her too. Case-in-point, once I realised that there was nothing in the secondhand listings that came close to what we needed, I bit the bullet and said we should visit some local furniture stores.
I found one sectional that, although not exactly the material and colour I wanted, would fit the bill nicely. I sat, it was a good height; I leaned back, it was comfortable; I measured, it would work in the space … “Hey! Lynne! Come over here!” I yelled, confident that we might have a winner.
She took a seat, and either her feet were on the floor, but her back was miles from the rear cushion; or her back was resting on the cushion but her feet were dangling uselessly above the floor.
“Nope,” she said, kicking the air like a baby in a booster seat.
“But …,” I countered.
“Vicki, it doesn’t work for me. But if you want to get it …”
Oh, yeah. That’ll make for a happy life.
I suppose, in a way, I should have been grateful. The price tag made me gulp. How about a trade for a kidney?
The other thing to consider was resale value. It was relatively easy for me to stand up from it, which probably meant it wouldn’t be considered fashionable or hip by the younger crowd, and therefore difficult to sell for anything close to the retail price if we changed our minds a few months later. But then again, cat scratches weren’t exactly going to make it a collector’s item either.
A couple of weeks into browsing one store after the next, and scouring the marketplace pages, I decided to give up for a while. As I write this column, I have just finished folding and cramming a yoga mat under Lynne’s cushion so it doesn’t sink so much. We’ll get the professional cleaners in, cut away the ragged threads created by the cat claws, and fling festive throws over every corner of that couch until an opportunity presents itself.
Oo! Hang on! I have just seen a stunning sectional for sale on Facebook marketplace. Nearly new, high end, $250, located somewhere between West Bay and Cayman Brac.
It might just be a merry Christmas after all!
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