69 — The British Sofa
When I last wrote about sofas, I had a clear goal: “I dream of a specific kind of comfort, the one typical of inviting British living rooms, with squishy, deep, high-back, velvety, roll-arm sofas you just want to curl up on, feel cozy and comfortable, and enjoy reading and watching hours of movies or cooking shows. I dream of comfort, of pure, inviting comfort.”
Since then, I got one of those British sofas. It is low, velvety with a high back and deep seats, rolled-arms and, I’ll tell you more, it’s also designed by a British designer (Jasper Morrison) and manufactured by an Italian brand (Cappellini) because I didn’t think there would be anything more comfortable than a British design with a Made in Italy signature.
This particular sofa has been living in this apartment for over six months, and with it, I’ve lived pretty much every stage of a relationship. At first, I was flirting with the idea of how it would elegantly fit in the living room, imagining how our life together would look like. We then started dating, and I was completely enamoured by its soul and, heck-why-not, even its appearance. I got accustomed to having it (the sofa) around, but slowly, with time, I began seeing red flags. At first, it was my hips that started hurting, and then my back followed suit, rendering it an utterly painful experience. What do you do then? You’ve committed yourself to this relationship, but all you do is think of other sofas.
Couple’s therapy - obviously.
We visited a local reupholstery workshop (aka our therapist) to get professional guidance on the situation, and with careful details, I explained how the sofa hadn’t done anything wrong; it’s me who needs more comfort. We considered adding more padding to the cushions. We could look into upgrading its feather and foam combo, but I dread that this is only a temporary solution. I can’t help but see my previous relationship (aka the old sofa) flash before my eyes. It was another foam-feather situation that made it look like a mess and feel like sitting on a pile of bricks. I proceed to thank the professional and carry the weight of this broken relationship home.
Since then, I’ve been trying to make it work.
I can’t possibly think of going into yet another relationship, I tell myself.
Feathers raffled and pillows added. Then even more pillows: for my butt, for my lower back, back and also neck. Yet, nothing changed its outcome, if not the a-ha moments when new pain shows up. ‘Feel this? That’s new!’. Perhaps it’s just me getting older. After all, it’s very common to hear older people talk about all sorts of back and joint pains - it might as well be me.
Avoidance shows up. I pretend like everything is fine, but when the light dims, and it’s time to watch a DVD, that’s when I ask myself the big question: Is this the one? Are you committed to this sofa in sickness and in health? No, I’m not. Then why is it so hard to admit it and do something about it? Because just like human-to-human relationships, the one with your sofa is complicated.
Sometimes, I wish I possessed the strength that Italian people had during the good old days, when they chose (or were appointed) a partner and stuck with it, regardless of love and compatibility. Separations were not a choice, let alone divorces, so your only option was to stick it out and make it work for life, but I realize that I am not like that. I question my feelings. I notice discomfort. I know this sofa is not the one.
We’re at a crossroads in this relationship. Is it that I have always been taking into consideration sofas’ credentials, like designers, manufacturing, and materials, before feeling feelings? Let’s not forget one of the most iconic yet uncomfortable sofas I’ve sat on: Vico Magistretti’s Maralunga. Is it time to let go of status and expectations and instead embrace just a plain, simple, comfortable sofa that will be there to support me during movie nights and periods of despair like a cradle to sleep on?
This sofa brought with it possibility, especially when I thought this apartment was doomed and its layout useless. It allowed me to see the living room as a place I wanted to spend time in. It also brought tons of conversations with my mother on materials for upholstery, which is always a creative discussion to have, but overall, pros-cons list aside, I think it’s time to make a choice and be the bigger person; look at this relationship for all it has given and move on.
