I have surprised myself by developing a love for mid-century design. By that I mean furniture and industrial design meant to look “modern†in the decades from the late forties to the mid sixties. I’m not alone in my infatuation. After years of seeing this kind of stuff reviled and ridiculed, and available for cheap in thrift shops across the country, I’ve realized that it’s getting easier to find others who share my interest. There’s even a magazine about the tract houses built to contain this kind of furniture, Atomic Ranch. I’ve been a subscriber since Issue 2, but I have mixed emotions about this style’s renewed hipness. This only means the stuff will get more expensive from now on.
Recently I was delighted to inherit a group of 1960-vintage Danish Modern furniture from my parents. No, my parents are fine, thanks. They just needed to make room for some large pieces of furniture inherited from my grandmother’s house as she moved into an assisted living facility and out of her farmhouse. My mother was delighted that I wanted the stuff. It hasn’t worked with her own house for years, but it works very well in my own 40’s-modern style house.
The surfboard coffee table in walnut with tapered legs is a classic. I could wish my folks hadn’t refinished the surface of it, but I suppose after receiving wear and tear from kids and dog in its early years it may have needed a touch-up. The buffet/sideboard is in excellent shape. It was only used for the “good†china and linens and lived in the formal dining room that we rarely used, so it’s in pristine condition. The third and final piece passed on to me is a floor lamp in walnut and brass. The wood is in good shape and it has a nice modern tapered proportion. But the original lampshade was long gone, and the pleated replacement that my mother had chosen worked much better with her own eclectic mix of antiques and colonial style pieces than it did in my house. I thought it was completely out of keeping with the original spirit of the lamp.
Fortunately for me and the lamp, the revival of interest in the mod served me well. I easily found a company in Texas called Moonshine Shade that will custom make the lampshade of your dreams. I spent hours poring over their elaborate website, choosing exactly the combination of options that matched my mental vision. My dream shade arrived just three weeks later, and now every time I walk by that lamp I get a little buzz of satisfaction. Cool, I think to myself. It goes perfectly with the framed albums of fifties- and sixties-era jazz records on the wall behind it. Vinyl is the wave of the future, don’t-cha know. But that’s a topic for another blog entry.
