Western Walkabout: My Favorite Chair
Richard Harris reminds us that style is not about money.
In a way, I’m a minimalist. I leave the smallest footprint when I’ve been somewhere and try to manage with adequacy rather than luxury.
Given this attitude, you can’t be surprised to hear that when I was refurnishing my home a few years ago, I looked in at Clarke’s Rubber, Cannington, for an adequate sofa.
I saw it straight away, in a plain, bush color, no arms, and it could fold out in an emergency to serve as a double bed for visitors.
At the Myer’s sale, I bought a beautiful red mohair throw rug, which I used to dress up this seat.
I love sitting on it, so firm, reassuring and reliable. And easy to get up from with my new hip.
I bought a marvellous little occasional table at an upmarket place in Applecross to stand alongside it – most accommodating for a glass and a bottle of wine while listening to music or watching television. It’s a lovely little sofa. I never regretted the $250 I spent on it. For an el cheapo, it looks really classy. Style isn’t about money, is it? It’s about an idea – reminds me of a time when I was fossicking in an inner city garbage dump and met an old aboriginal man who looked really sharp. He had torn off the arm of a jumper and rolled it over his head as a beanie, tying a knot in the wrist end of the sleeve.
The woman with me at the time laughed. “Black chic,” she said.
