Last year for our Easter vacation, we rented a house in a small village in Provence called Ventabren. It was a lovely little village situated on a steep hill, surrounding a 19th-century townhall and a 17th-century church whose bell woke us up every morning at 7:00a.m. (we were two doors down). There was a chateau ruin at the very top of the hill, complete with a cemetery where I walked around for more than an hour and took lots and lots of photos.
The house we rented was absolutely delightful. It was an old stone house, and the owners had done a remarkable job of resotring it, giving it modern comfort without sacrificing its quaint rustic charm. It was decorated with real antiques and small -- but great -- art pieces here and there. This wasn't some vacation rental place they bought and furnished with cheap, "not good enough for ourselves but good enough for holiday renters" furniture. It was a French-country-dream-come-true kind of place for me.
What I want to write about today, however, is not the village, nor the house. I want to write about a chair.
Two chairs, actually. They were in the master bedroom of this house: a pair of Louis XIV armchairs (I think that's right; please correct me if I'm wrong) reupholstered in my favorite flax linen.
I love, loved, loved everything about these chairs. Their form, the finish, the details... I took photos of them from the front, from the side, from the back, and upclose. They were beautiful from every angle. Not only that, they were very comfortable.
I kind of made up my mind right then that I would find a similar pair before leaving France.
Still I haven't found them yet. Am I asking too much?
Has anyone seen these chairs anywhere near Lyon?
No comments:
Post a Comment