This post on Decorno got me thinking about what many people call sofas. My grandmother calls them davenports. I wish I had the guts to sport that affectation.
When we got married, Rex’s and my taxable income came to about $11K--, not $111K, no, you read those two digits correctly, so our furniture was all donated. We had a lovely old camel-back sofa courtesy of Rex’s grandmother. It had been upholstered in a pinkish toile, but his roommate’s cat shredded the toile irreparably, so Rex ripped it off, leaving the muslin, which quickly got filthy. When I moved in with him, I reupholstered the couch in a dark jewel-tone tapestry-style fabric using brass tacks and a glue gun. It looked fine, although it was rather uncomfortable.
(This is the pink toile, all that's left is a pillow.)
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