Back when I had a desk, I couldn’t stomach the thought of sitting on a soulless upholstered office chair from a big box office supplies store. As someone who has been dubbed “Pretentious As Heck,” I need something Important to sit on whilst browsing The Facebook and vegging out on Reddit (Fark, formerly).
So I found myself at the St. Lawrence Antique Market on a Sunday afternoon. A horrible place. Lousy with aged junk like postcards, licence plates, old lamps, and an endless amount of truly worthless detritus. Astonishingly these items were dotted with price tags. People actually paid for this stuff.
I puttered around until I spotted this circa 1930s secretary’s chair. It was made of sturdy maple and all the fittings were heavy steel. The casters were new, but otherwise it was a true antique. I was intrigued. For some reason, I wasn’t digging the $50 price tag, so my pal Dave and I circled the market for a few minutes. We thoroughly discussed negotiation strategy, like we were taking on Khrushchev during the Bay Of Pigs.
“Let’s see if we can get him down ten dollars.”
We came back to ask about the chair and before we could employ any strategems, the seller launched into a saga about the chair and its greatness. As he talked it up, we nodded our heads for what felt like an hour. He closed his tale with: “I suppose I could let it go for $40.”
That’s how I got this gorgeous uncomfortable office chair. I left it on McCaul street when I left Toronto and it was snapped up within minutes.