BoomerGirl Diary

Saturday morning I bought my mother’s sofa. Well … sort of.

It must have been a bout with déjà vu or an out-of-body experience into the disco-era; either way, my new sofa dangerously suggests I have the same taste as my boomer-mother did when she first invested in furniture way back when.

My furniture journey began about three months ago after I had given myself a pep talk into buying a sofa. Eager, with a budget and prepared to finance, I ventured to a furniture superstore bound and determined to return home with a new, stylish, “I have good taste” sofa. It wasn’t until I found myself lost in this furniture maze that I became rather disgusted by the poly-filled, faux suede, 18-person sectional recliners that looked more like they belonged in a club house than my new living room.

Unable to purchase the … well … stylish, “you have good taste” sofas, and still fearing affordable flame attracting polyester cushions, I went home empty handed. At this point, I blame my mother. It’s her taste in fine North Carolina furniture that has caused me to run in the opposite direction of today’s obtainable yet unattractive answer for sofas.

So I digressed from furniture (and a place to sit) for a while, instead spending my pennies on a new purse, meals with friends and travel. None of which would lend itself to my need for a sofa. But then Saturday came.

On my way out the door, I saw it across the street. It was as if light was beaming down from the heavens above. Quickly, I ran across the street only to find a “SOLD” sign written in crayon and scotch taped to the cushions. But there was hope, the buyer, who had yet to pay, may not come back.

As luck would have it, for only $125 I obtained the deep, rich green velveteen sofa with high arms, plush cushions and a body that obviously withstood the beating of four small toddlers. After moving it across the street to its new home I rushed out to find accent pillows (clearly still on the high from my purchase). I found beautifully quilted light coral pillows (feather filled) to compliment the prominent tone of the soft fabric and oversized luscious cushions.

Excited to share the news, I phoned my mother to describe my new resting place. Few minutes into our conversation, I realized I had unintentionally emulated my mother’s furniture, just with a 36-year face lift (or would that be fabric lift). She of course was happy tell how she came to acquire her first piece of furniture.

The year, 1971, she bought a velvet, celery green tuxedo style Henredon double cushion sofa to match her melon and peach décor. Mine — more of an olive and berry scheme. She later needle pointed square and round pillows in varying peach shades. Mine — more of a peachy coral, and washable. She took great advice from her mother, mother in law and furniture salesman, all of which stood the test of time as she still owns the sofa. I bought used and on an impulse, from the neighbor’s yard sale.

Oh well. Like mother like daughter right? And true to form, I can’t help thinking the same thing I heard growing up, “no eating on the couch!”