The Puffy Couch

You know when something just irks you sooo bad you have to do something about it? Maybe you write a letter to the editor (like my husband who's going to write the local paper about their so-called 2 page "editorial" on a crappy restaurant chain which somehow counts as lifestyle) or maybe you call your sister to bitch, or maybe you're lucky enough to have your own blog.

Here's my latest irk, beef, bitch, pet peeve...puffy couches. We are fortunate enough to have recently bought a beautiful house here in Charlotte (which means we're here to say, which is an entirely separate blog) and so have been on the hunt for a second sofa. Because I have spent every extra cent on new flooring and paint and Home Depot's pension plan, I can't afford to buy new and am trolling craigslist on a regular basis. In my quest for an amazing yet affordable sofa, I have discovered how many people here own massive, over-stuffed, faux suede, micro-fibered seating more appropriate for the Michelin Man and his puffy dog too.

Is it because as a nation, we are eating too much and becoming puffy ourselves? Is that why we must buy sofas that don't necessarily seat us, as much as they allow us to crumple into giant lumps of post mashed potatoes and gravy? It doesn't matter what jewel-toned skin you throw on them, they're all ugly. Fugly, in fact.

Despite living on a paltry salary (such is the life of regional freelance) I have champagne taste and so struggle to find the glorious furnishings I see in all of my national decor magazines. Maybe I need to subscribe to Fuggly Home. It seems ridiculous to drool over all the exquisite things that are currently out of my reach, but I do. Sometimes it's pure escape and other times like an addiction. I just need a fix of beauty every now and then. Some women read fashion rags or travel guides; I read shelter magazines.

I'll admit it; I am a design snob. I secretly mock those who are afraid of finding their own design style and go the safe, matchy-match route in all beige or cream. The irony of course is I that can't make my home decor dreams a reality right now so I suffer and dream and cruise antique/second hand websites for hours on end. Sadly, I've yet to find a Baker sofa for under $500 that doesn't need a total re haul. Is it fair that all the marshmallow fugglies are in my price range?

Maybe one day a design savvy-homemaker will take pity on me and sell me her second-hand Paul Smith sofa that sat in the parlor and only got used one Sunday a month when her in-laws came to visit. It will have strong, architectural lines, and rich velvet striped fabric and a price tag of only $199. It will not be puffy and it will be mine.