It’s a small thing, not exactly up there with the world’s problems, but hey, this is a blog about interiors not politics, so I feel I justified in mentioning it. Floor cushions, beanbags, pouffes, call them what you will, a tricky purchase.
I remember writing my very first feature for The Daily Mail many, many moons ago (possibly even longer). As I recall it was about using Botox to cure overly active sweat glands. Yes, it was glamour all the way back in those days. Anyway, apologies to anyone who’s breakfasting or dining depending on where in the world you read this … hot country? Bit sweaty – look into that Botox thing.
So, my point, for I do have one, is that with my very first pay cheque I rushed out and bought a leather beanbag. It was fabulous for a while. The 13 year-old was a baby then and there are many gorgeous pictures of him sitting on it in his red and white check wincyette pyjamas watching Teletubbies or some such programme. Then it developed a hole.
Then all the polystyrene balls, those that hadn’t escaped and been eaten by the aforementioned baby, went flat and the mess that ensued when we tried to refill it defies description.
Eventually it found its way into that great skip in the sky and we all sat on the floor instead. Then I bought an faux leather outside version. We weren’t compatible either. Recently I bought a couple of leather Moroccan pouffes. Now, these I quite like. But they are too small. It’s too much like perching. So they have become footstools. And my husband has quite irrationally taken against the silver one so it’s only a matter of time before I come back from being out and find that it has been disappeared in a not-so-mysterious fashion.
I have looking at floor cushions for months, possibly even years, and every so often you spot a good one and then you look at the dimensions and it’s too small. Then I found this from Graham and Green. It’s 75cm square, with velvet sides and a different material on the top. And I rather love it. It’s £115.
That is all.
