Thursday, May 10, 2007
I get the theory behind the old Chesterfield. I don't love them, but I don't have a moral objection to them in the right context. You know - period home, yada yada.
This one, however, just seems to have too many buttons. I think it's the ones on the bottom of it that push it into uptight button land. I don't want an uptight couch, I want something comfortable that I can sink into and relax.
According to the bible that is Vanity Fair, when Jen and Brad split up (side note: will never forget a txt my friend Gosia sent me back in January 2005 "First the tsunami, now Brad and Jen... Will we ever smile again?"), Jen was happy about one thing. It wasn't the obvious, ie. that she no longer had to worry about giving birth to a child with the freakishly strong jaw any Jen/Brad offspring would have inevitably had. It was this: she was glad to finally have a comfy couch to sit/lie/nap on. Apparently, with Brad being the architecture buff he is, all the furniture in their house was all about the design and not a lot about the comfort.
After splitting up with my Brazilian fiancé last year under rather tumultuous circumstances for which you must buy me alcohol in order for me to reveal (believe me, the tale is worth the cost of a dozen pints of Bulmers), I was glad I no longer had to worry about him trying to reassure me that polyester and nylon were better to wear in summer than COTTON. He reckoned they were more breathable. Yeah, whatever...