The Time We Got The Eames Chairs

This past winter, Jack and I spent the entire winter in Nyack, NY helping his sisters get their 93 year old mother moved out of the 8,000 square foot house she'd been living in for 50 years.  One day, while returning from a run to U-Haul for more bubble wrap and tape, we took a short cut to a seldom used on ramp for the NYS Thruway.  There is a hotdog stand in the gravelly, dusty, potholed base of that on ramp.  The old paneled step van kind with a big sliding window and an Umbrella Room. As we careened toward the ramp I noticed the umbrella room.  In particular, the chairs around the card table which made up the dining ensemble. “STOP THE CAR!”, I hollered.

I blinked to be sure I wasn’t imagining things or that the blinding sun glare bouncing off the chairs wasn’t playing tricks on me. Nope. Four molded fiberglass chairs on chrome bases. Two avocado, one gray and one butterscotch yellow. My mouth went dry and my palms started to sweat.  You’ve only got one chance to make the pitch so it had better be the right pitch. My number had to be high enough to make the guy consider selling them to me, but not so high that he’d think, “Well these are really something.  Maybe I could get some real money for them.” I was going to place my bet at $100 for all four and hopefully turn them over for $100 each.

At the window I said to the guy, “Man, I love those chairs. I’d love to have them.”  

Now normally, I’d never let on that something was of particular interest.  Play it close to the vest, never show your hand.  But this guy - I had a feeling that if I played any games, the deal would be dead before it got going.

“I used to have six of them,” he replied.  “Two years ago somebody stole all six of them.  Last month, they brought back these four.”  
“Really?,”  I asked. “How weird.  Would you consider selling them to me?”

Sounds of semis rushing by on the highway.  No reply.

“I’ll give you a hundred bucks for them.” I glanced over at Jack, who shrugged in consent.
“A hundred bucks?  For those chairs?”
I closed in.  “Cash.  You don’t have to tell me yes or no right now.  We’re going to be in town for awhile.  Here’s my card (I sell Mary Kay ) and my phone number.  Just think about it, please.  I can come back any time you’re ready.”
“One hundred dollars for those four chairs. Cash.”, he repeated.
“Yes, but don’t rush your decision...”
“Ok,” he said, “I’ll take it.”

As Jack and I drove off in search of an ATM, we couldn’t believe our luck.  Four vintage fiberglass chairs - in excellent condition - 2 hotdogs and a bag of chips.  All for a hundred bucks. Sweet.

Why I do it

Perhaps the reason I began collecting is because I am a frustrated decorator. Discouraged from going to Parsons or F. I. T. after graduating from high school, I marched off to work instead.  Maybe it's because I inherited the "acquiring" gene from my mother. My father's mother collected as well, but it skipped a generation with him, much to my mother's chagrin. While Dad tossed things out the basement window on a cleanup day, Mom was out in the driveway, picking them up and stashing them in the garage.  Maybe because we didn't have much it was important to hold on to the things that felt special.

When I got my first apartment in 1974 while still a teenager, the only possessions I brought with me were my clothes and a sewing kit. I bought a cool new red velvet sofa bed and a bentwood rocker. My grandmother gave me a 1930s brass swing arm floor lamp that was so heavy I could hardly lift it. The walls were already painted an eggshell buttery yellow and I found some textured satin drapes (to the floor, of course) in the same shade.

I remember how I fell more in love with that place every time I brought home some other amazing find. Back then, there was not much of a decorating budget so most everything was a hand-me-down or found - at the flea market ... or just found. And everything had some kind of issue, but it didn't matter. Turn the crack in the Italian pottery to the wall, put a matt over a water stained edge on a nautical map.

Today I still cherish those kinds of special pieces that have "character". If you go into the homes of the monied, a close inspection will reveal their "things" are less than perfect. Brilliant quality and or style overcomes the occasional chip or ding. Young people starting out want and deserve beautiful things and as a seller it's important to have pieces available in every price range. A novice collector today could be your most enduring customer down the road. When I go back to New York it is always a pleasure to return to the places that nourished my burgeoning habit. And you know what? My genetically predisposed daughter is the one who usually gets that ball rolling.