In this blood of mine runs a type of passion hard to explain. It is not for a person, or in fact any living thing. Inanimate objects, but they are alive to me. Every one has her own voice and style. You can not insinuate a colour, a design on her elegant bones without meeting objection if it is not quite right.
Some are aqua flocked damask with a parchment background. Some are lilac with small pink dots. Some are white and beige stripped linen. Some are grey velvet with contrast braid. Some are loud. Some are quiet. Some have multiple personalities with hot pink and orange plaid on the back and floral silk on the front. And that is just the upholstery! Her frame may be white, shabby chic, french polished, gloss black, blonde…red? Hydrangea blue?
It is not easy to find her flavour. You have to sit (and sit you must), research and ponder. I conjure an image of the lucky person who will have her gracing a deserving corner of a beautiful room or accommodating many gracious rear ends at a happy dining table. Can you see it? Can you hear it?
It has taken it’s inspiration from France and England. It has been infused with the modern day. Our lifestyles, various as they may be. Our homes, contemporary, urban or country in style. We all deserve a beautiful vintage chair and there is one for you, for your home.
I am Emily, my obsession is the vintage chair. It spreads to any beautiful furniture whether it be my style or not. Which brings me back to the blood, my grandmother had it, my mother has it, a family tradition. A tradition like witchery — the furniture obsession. It is not a choice but a passion imbued at birth. It consumes you, the desire to find and recreate and give them a new home, these lost and forgotten, undiscovered pieces of time, once loved or even brand new, dormant characters waiting to be given life.