Roots of Addiction

You know those stories about celebrities who give their children controlled substances? And how you read these accounts and wonder, "What were they thinking?"

Well, my mother was a little guilty of this. When I was small and we lived in Atlanta my mother made a very good friend while we were on the playground. I, in turn, became very good friends with the friend's daughter as these things sometime happen.

While my parents' house was an ever evolving array of tasteful yet jazzy (probably department store) finds, Krissy Livengood's parents' house was not.

Krissy Livengood's parents had a pair of Wassily chairs. When I walked through their living room I was mesmerized by the slats made of leather. With every visit I'm quite sure her mother anticipated wiping my grimy fingerprints from the cool chrome. I could not resist running my hand along that silvery steel.

They were wonderful. I was in awe of those chairs. In my memory the room where they resided was always quiet, but perhaps my ears were ringing. While everyone else found it so intriguing that Krissy's father had one blue eye and one brown eye, I thought that merely a quirk of nature. The thing that made the Livengoods interesting - fascinating even - were those chairs.

We moved from Atlanta when I was eight, but the chair addiction was firmly established. Imagine my delight with Judith Miller's new book, Chairs. Over one hundred chairs, beautifully shot by Nick Pope, on big pages, presented in chronological order. Truly a chair lover's dream.

And a terrific red cover. Almost as good as having a Wassily of my own.

P.S. Mrs. Livengood, in true Southern fashion, has passed her chairs to her daughter. Who now goes by Kristin.

Chairs by Judith Miller was provided to me for review by the publisher, Conran Octopus. All photographs by Nick Pope. The Wassily chair is fourth from the top.

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