so there's this fainting couch. and i know it sounds like all i do is read books and quote people and covet things, but seriously. this fainting couch. awesome.
it is my holy grail of quasi-unaffordable large furniture investment pieces. i'd never before pondered buying anything furniture-like until the fainting couch wandered into my life and slipped cozily into the corner of the Ideal Room i'm always building in my head.
because clearly the Ideal Room would have a fainting couch. by default, the Ideal Room would be equipped for any unexpected melodramatic life turns and melodramatic life turns, by default, would necessitate appropriately supportive furniture to soften one's appropriately dainty swoon.
to me, the fainting couch is a true totem of adulthood. because i don't think one can own- much less fork over the money for- such a substantial piece of furniture without crossing some threshold. i'm not yet ready for this threshold. i've stood quavering on the edge for months. but the moment is nigh. and the moment just became more nighier.
because few things are truly free in this world, and because even fewer free things are mailed at no charge, i ordered fainting couch swatches as a means of preparing to prepare for the threshold. the swatches arrived today and i spent much of the evening prancing about in glee, holding them against various walls and curtains and book covers.
to reduce the earth-shattering dilemma to comprehensible dimensions, it comes down to this: a black brocade that is unattractive, incomparable, and matches nothing (grounds for instant disqualification), the purple of gloria steinhem's outrageous acts and everyday rebellions, the pea green of the illiad, or the bluish gray on the top half of the spine of my life, starring dara falcon.
while the appeal of having a couch reputed for outrageous acts and everyday rebellions knows no bounds, the appeal of purple does. so, i'm almost very quite absolutely positive nearly sure, dara falcon, here we come.