Autobiography of a Tacky 70s Sofa
______I knew I was different from the other sofas at an early age.
______I knew by the way the other sofas glanced warily at me, the way they regarded me with a keen but distant interest, and just by the strange way we locked eyes (and were able to lock eyes, being couches and all). I remember those uncomfortable whispers about me I received on the way to the bus by the parents of the other sofas.
______"Her fringes are so unkempt and distracting. I wonder if her parents realize that," a stunningly ornate couch once whispered to its couch-spouse. Her fabric shimmered ivory, and her husbands a was deep, velvety chocolate.
______"Quite," the husband replied, shivering his seat cushions as if the air had chilled him. "And that gaudy, patterned fabric... Did her parents adopt her from a thrift store?" The two sofas laughed to themselves, but it was more of a heinous squeaking that came from their aged coils.
______It was all seemingly true, what these parental couches described. My side skirts were fringed and free-flowing; theirs were pleated, tightly sewn, and barely dusting the floor. I knew by their preposterously high thread counts, the lack of severity in their patternings, and the assured stance of their square couch backings that they were, in a sense, set apart from me. I was covered in a garish array of blue and red diamond shapes, and my arms were formed from twisting, chipped wood that was otherwise a lackluster orange. My cushions sank low in the center, as if someone had sat there far too long. I looked loved, I convinced myself.
______As I grew, my features and social difficulties only continued to steepen. I was beginning to realize the hardships of being a tacky 70s sofa that my parents had exchanged quiet, concerned words about when I was younger. In middle school, I developed two pillows of velvet in the most jarring zebra pattern. A quilt with squares that seemed to be arranged by absolutely no mathematical formula (or sense, at that) was thrown over my shoulder upon graduating high school: a family tradition I could not avoid. I was quite the eclectic mixture of patterns. I was quite the hideous sofa.
______A day came in college when I was sipping tea (shush, don't ask how couches can do that) at my campus's local coffee shop. A stiff old couch pummeled in through the doors in a hurry, huffing and carrying a briefcase on his pale orange cushions. He stopped immediately at the sight of me and lowered his couch-glasses.
______This has happened before, I thought. Make it a little more obvious, why don't you, you old chesterfield. Outsiders often visited from out of town and guffawed at the sight of me and the extreme juxtaposition of me to my environment. I was especially disheveled today, for it was exam week: my fringes were tangled slightly and some coffee had stained my back padding a few days earlier.
______The pale orange couch grinned wildly, his cushions forming a deep "u." He scooted toward me. I remained calm as a couch, because you know, I was one.
______"You're it!" the man-couch exclaimed. His briefcase flapped slightly as he jumped in excitement. "You're exactly what we need!"
______The couch came closer, and I noticed that he, too, had fringes accenting him. I balanced my tea warily on one of my wooden arms, suddenly conscious of the scratches on them. He quieted down and calmly but expertly explained how he was curating actors for a low-cost horror movie, and how a scene required a specific couch to sit in the corner of a room and be lit from one side in with unsettling orange glow for an introductory shot. He told me my look was authentic, rumpled, and slightly funky, and fit that specificity like a key to a lock.
______I was wary of this pale orange couch, but exchanged numbers with him nonetheless. In just a few weeks, I was on set, filming, poised dramatically in a corner with a light burning so hot on my upholstery that cool shadows were cast beyond me, just as he had described to me before. The walls behind me were a muddy floral pattern, and I felt somewhat at home in that moment. After the first week of viewing of the show to the public, my phone erupted in call after call, and soon I moved from being a mere prop sofa to a stunt sofa to a main acting sofa in a full-blown Sofas of the Caribbean original film series. Little by little, I had climbed my ladder with my clunky wooden arms, and though it took a while, I soon felt I was the luckiest, happiest sofa in the world.
______And that is the story of how I became a famous tacky 70s sofa.
______(for your information, yes, I am going crazy.)
Fringed kimono: Lotus Boutique (similar)
Polka dot dress: TJ Maxx (similar)
Oxford heels: Jeffrey Campbell (similar)
Bow ring: Charming Charlie
Chain Bracelet: Charming Charlie
Necklace: Charming Charlie (similar)
Cuff + twisted bracelet: vintage