This is my very first furniture post!
My new chair is made of wood, like the floors in my apartment. I lovingly cleaned it up yesterday and my room is still fragrant with the warm, spicy smell of wax...
I spent my childhood all over the world, in rentals where my family didn't own the furniture and where we may have to leave everything behind. We were living in Iran in 1979, in the midst of a violent revolution, when a phone call came, urging us to head for the airport with no luggage; so we fled this dear, beautiful country. Years later in Iraq, my parents kept a pouch with our passports and some cash at hand at all times because it was a possibility that again, we may have to depart at once, taking nothing with us.
These experiences, and obsessive readings about the occupation of Paris during WW2, when Parisians abandoned everything to the Germans, have made me very wary of "stuff"; always, at the back of my mind, is the notion one may lose everything, so I keep my possessions minimal.
(Curious about the occupation of Paris in the 1940's? Irène Nimérovsky's extraordinary, if unfinished, novel Suite Française, whose manuscript was discovered decades after the author died in Auschwitz, is a must-read)
Still, I love having friends over and they need to sit somewhere, don't they?