If you have been following me on Instagram you may be familiar with my Togo chair saga. The highs and lows. If you are new to the story it started with a thrilling win on Ebay. I found a vintage curdoroy tan Ligne Roset Togo chair in Los Angeles for pick up only. The seller couldn't authenticate the pedigree, but knowing that these chairs only a mother can love go for thousands of dollars new and used, I didn't care. I knew they didn't start making the knock offs as early as the 1970s so I figured it had to be real. And for a few hundred dollars, and still less than the worst knock off available in cheesy ultra suede, I was giddy to beat out the other local bidders and win the chair.
I drove to Laurel Canyon to pick it up and was a little disappointed with the state of the chair. Worn, dirty and stained, sadder than expected. But I figured it wouldn't be that hard to recover and dragged that sucker home. I started to make calls to my go to upholsterers and no one returned my messages. I reached farther afield to companies who had asked me for work in the past and still no takers. Oye. What I had I gotten myself into?
I dressed up the chair with sheepskins and accent pillows and decided to wait it out. It didn't look terrible. Surely SOMEONE would want the work. Right?! I asked my lovely Instagram community for recommendations. People sent me their trusted sources. I reached to those companies and still....crickets. Would I be stuck with the beat chair forever? Why didn't anyone want to recover it? What the what?
Finally, I found a company who said they could do it. No problem. They quoted more than I had wanted to spend but at this point I was getting pathetically desperate and they explained there was more labor involved with all the folds so I brought my poor sad chair over. I showed them pictures of what it was supposed to look like, I told them to save the old cover so they had a pattern to copy from. I brought the most beautiful mink colored velvet over. Then I waited two weeks and these were the photos they sent when they announced the job was done.
I wanted to cry. The wrinkles were gone and it looked like they made a sock for my chair. Or a condom. You decide. This is what I paid extra for. Seriously?! I wasn't having it. I made them redo it. Two weeks later I went to pick up the finished work and it was better. Much better.
The chair of my dreams it is not. Was it worth this brain damage? Nope. Did I spend thousands of dollars on a Ligne Roset chair? Also no. Would I do it again knowing what I know now? Heck no. But I styled it to my heart's content with rattan, leather, and sheepskin accents and its all good. The brass and marble scoop lamp elevates the corner from boho to chic. I'm really happy with how it looks all together and I do enjoy this corner of my home.
Alec and I had a good solid laugh about how ridiculous it all was. Hilarious! And I have a funny story to tell now. Hahahha. But get THIS ---- 4 weeks after this job was done, another Instagram buddy found the shop that could have totally recovered my chair to perfection. And they are 4 miles from my house. He sent me this post and I wanted to cry again.
They GET IT. I won't tell you who did a meh job on my chair because at least they tried, even if they didn't succeed, and I don't want to give them a bad name. But I will tell you who could have done an ah-may-zing job: Dynasty Upholstery. If I could turn back time, they would be the ones. Just look at what they can do. Whomp whomp. That's my story.