Chairs may be larger than they appear

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The most exciting thing to happen to me to date just happened today. I mean, after my marriage, the birth of our two beautiful children, the accomplishments and milestones of said children, my writing awards, and the time I had exact change at the checkout lane, which never happens. 

Today I have proof that Pottery Barn knows I’m alive. 

For those who are not in the know and who are probably less shallow than I am, Pottery Barn is described as “an American upscale home furnishing store with retail stores in the United States, Canada, Mexico and Australia.” 

I have long been enamored of the signature “Pottery Barn” style. This is a sort of relaxed farmhouse but urban, leather, woven, hipster, ancestral lake cottage vibe. 

With Pottery Barn, your decor can look as if it was collected over time — at only quadruple the price. I say this with love, but man, their stuff is pricey. 

Fabulous find

I was really sick last week. So, in my defense, I may have been under the influence of allergy medication when I had my sweet husband drive two hours roundtrip to pick up a second hand, gently used, slipcovered Pottery Barn chair off Marketplace. 

Pottery Barn! You know my aspiring self was seduced by the brand — so much, in fact, that while the measurements were provided, I did not necessarily take note of them. This is a $2,000 chair being offered for a fraction of the price. “Get in the truck honey!” 

We picked it up at a pristine home in a leafy, upscale neighborhood. The seller had it in their (spotless) garage. It was an easy transaction. We lifted into the back of the truck and headed back home. We even stopped for dinner on the way home. 

I, of course, fretted the entire time that a gang of well-coordinated international chair thieves (used division) was circling the neighborhood, desperate to get their hands on my prize. 

You will rest easier knowing that did not happen. I’m sure it was close though. This IS a wonderful chair. 

Oversize

Once we got it back to our favorite old house, we slid it into the living room. We then faced the elephant-sized chair in the room. 

Apparently, I purchased a chair and a half. Bonus chair space, which is awesome until you have to vault over the back of it to reach the bathroom behind it because homes in 1904 were not designed to accommodate a chair the size of a hatchback car.  

I still love it, but it’s the most ridiculously sized thing, and I can’t stop giggling. It makes my full-sized sofa and loveseat look like doll furniture. This is the biggest chair I have seen in my life. I swear it’s like a throne. 

We honestly cannot let any petite friends sit in it. They risk being swallowed up in the chair, and we won’t find them until spring cleaning the slipcovers. Then, they will surface along with the lost hair ties and errant dog toys.

Social media famous

Being me, I had to share this and post it on social media — just a quick photo of our enormous chair.

A few days later, I sat down for a moment of quiet, and scrolled through my phone. One notification caught my eye. What is this? Could this be real? 

POTTERY BARN — the actual people behind the social media account for POTTERY BARN — saw my posted photo and asked if they could use and share it? 

I think all the air left my body. Pottery Barn liked my chair! Well, their chair. They liked how I arranged it, staged it, and made the look come together. Also, a teeny little bit of my toes are visibly propped up on the coffee table in the foreground of the photo. I’m sure my bright aqua toenail polish is what really pushed it over the top. 

For a woman who started her adult life drooling over the pages of furniture that was out of the question for her young budget, there is a certain charm in having Pottery Barn acknowledge my style — particularly since it was second-hand, which is just the way I like it. 

Know that If I die tomorrow, you can say “she died doing what she loved: being aspirational and also, very cheap.” 

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Warm, witty and just a wee bit warped, Kymberly Foster Seabolt is a native of Kent, Ohio, who survived childhood exposure to disco and grew up to marry and move to the country. Her column weaves her special brand of humor with poignant, entertaining, and honest portrayals of parenting, marriage, and real life. She currently lives in northeastern Ohio with her husband, two children, two dogs, two cats, and numerous dust bunnies who wish to remain nameless.

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