I had made a promise to myself and my new place of residence to never buy furniture on demand.
I had a dream to fill my home with items that were stumbled upon, reupholstered and laquered with characterer.
For too long I have lived under a banner of Ikea and through desperation my warped white table had travelled with me.
And on Sunday the day of my twenty seventh birthday I wandered into a beautiful old warehouse. My eyes lit up seeing chairs hung high against an old brickwall. I felt at home standing at the entrance of the house of modern retro scandinavia. I knew then it was time to redecorate. There were two red chairs stacked in the corner in a natural light timber and red cloth seats. I dusted off the seats and turned them on their feet. He always told me to check underneath. There were minor markings, strong Danish legs and labelled original vintage. I flipped it back over sat down and knew I needed this classic armchair. I finally understood the real joy of original pieces of furniture. I was happy to age a year as long as I had my red chairs by my side.