I convinced Greg (through a series of week long mind games, essential oils and playing tapes in his sleep) that we needed to buy some family room furniture and it should be from Restoration Hardware.
Of course if I had said it this way, he never would have gone for it.
Restoration Hardware is notorious for silly pricing (but oh so worth it) and Greg wanting to shop for couches would take weeks, maybe months of trickery, the art of illusion and maybe the odd bologna sandwich to plan for.
Once Greg finally realized this was all his idea, even though right up until the minute we arrived in the outlet showroom he wondered if he had been hypnotized (maybe) he seemed up to the task.
Even I felt ridiculous pretending the prices on the furniture weren’t completely out to lunch and these were outlet prices. The items we would be purchasing were floor models sent from non-outlet stores, sent from being used on the subway sent from used hotel rooms, sent from rehab clinics and yet I wanted everything.
Greg found a pair of outdoor, patio chairs and agreed they were comfortable. He also thought the price, discounted by 50% and then an additional 20% (just for today!) on everything was reasonable. Two things he failed to realize were a) they were outdoor chairs and we were shopping for a family room, b) the price did not include the cushions, just the frames.
Sold!
We then found a giant cement slab. It might have been cement, it was grey and heavy like cement but it could have been a boulder or the bottom of a ship, I had no idea. I thought it would make an interesting coffee table and repeatedly whispered so only Greg could hear, “20% off, 20% off 20% off” until he said, “What do you think this is?” Oh that? I bet it’s a coffee table and even if it isn’t, we could use it as one. It’s got real character. A conversation piece.
Always throw in words like character and conversation piece if you don’t really know what something is but you think it might be within your budget and it’s from a store you love.
Sold!
We also bought the matching planters? podiums? to be used as end tables. They were quite dinged up but nothing a nice lamp couldn’t cover.
Lastly, we hit the couches. This was surprisingly easier to sell Greg on. 1) because he’s a man and he was tired of shopping so the option to sit down on the most comfortable sofas around meant he might just agree to anything and 2) he’s a sucker for leather.
We bought the couch that had the most character lines a couch could allow without requiring repair (from people’s car keys and women’s rings) and was missing a leg. Before you feel too sorry for us, they had the leg, it just wasn’t affixed to the couch. If that doesn’t scream character, I don’t know what does.
Two of the remaining three legs fell off while transporting everything home.
When I look at our new family room; two patio chairs (with cushions), three tables made out of something ridiculously heavy and a couch propped up on all four legs I feel like the luckiest person in the world.
Is there such a thing as too much character?
Photo is a likeness
