Red, velvety goodness... I was looking for a comfy yet vintage-looking red sofa to take the place of the old black Ikea couch I'd had since right after college, and which is currently wearing a fashionable red couch cover in my livingroom.
An antique store had one I loved, but it was pricey,
plus I'd have had to figure out how to get it to my house. Online catalogs, like the Victorian Trading Company have great stuff, but way more than I'd wanted to pay. Magnolia Hall had lovely sofas, but also, expensive, and a bit too Victorian-rigid to really invite guests to sit and be comfortable.
And then, as I was at the Salvation Army Superstore by Century III Mall, I came in the door and there was
this baby.
I wouldn't
quite say beams of light shone down and a chorus of cherubs sang. But it was close.
Actually, they were just gearing up for the first chord when this elderly man-- who was looking at the wood frame sofa opposite it-- came wandering over and started to tell me an involved sojourn about Historical Sofas of His Past. How he had a highly-carved wood-frame couch, and how it had plastic on it because his dog loved it so and...
Ordinarily, I would have been really excited about talking vintage sofas with a person. This day, however, I really just wanted a quiet contemplative moment to figure out should I buy this red velvet sofa courtesy of Lady Luck, and if so, how the heck was I going to get it home?
Eventually, my brain figured out how to multi-task and the older man decided to buzz off to other sections of the store. I understand he'd cornered someone near the book section and was telling them about his collection of National Geographics or something.
And in that time, it occurred to me I'd once heard the cashier at a different Salvation Army make recommendations to customers about someone unaffiliated with them who was willing to move furniture like this. Could it be this store could do the same?
In moments, I had myself a name, a phone number-- and a new couch.
Now, folks buying large furniture pieces like this at the thrifts should know-- they'll only hold something for you for approximately five business days.
So last evening, I waited outside the Superstore looking for my connection with the truck.
Minivan?... nope. Low slung Corvette?... nope. Pickup truck? The truck pulled into a space, and a round bald man got out. I looked at him with a hopeful gaze. He looked at me. Our eyes met.
He got creeped out and went into the store.
Sorry dude. Wrong guy.
Ah, but my sofa mover came after all! Big Red will go into place once I can move the Ikea sofa into the room my housemate Scoobie currently has.
She'll be moving in about a month to her very own home, and so the blue room will be new domain for me. Until then, Big Red sits topsy-turvy downstairs waiting for its final resting place.
Interestingly, according to its tags, the sofa is a current replica of a 1940s couch style. This place called
Funkysofa.com has all sorts of odd, hip, retro, custom-order sofas-- many of them named things like Marilyn, Valentino, Garbo and Desilu. Mine is called Montana. I'm sort of curious why.
So, until things get straightened out again here at Waterhouse, I will pop into my diningroom and pet the tilted vintage-styled sofa.
You'd think after all this many years of thrifting I wouldn't still get this thrill; but to this day it amazes me. When you enter a thrift store, you really never know what awaits you.
Happy hunting!
