You’re Never Going to Believe It. Turns out it WAS Meant To Be.

So here’s a funny story.  If you’ve been reading along for the past few weeks you know the whole devastation I suffered over losing a perfect, vintage, replica Eames recliner.  If you haven’t read that tale yet, do so first.  We all wait here.

That chair will haunt me for the rest of my days and it’s the second thing to haunt  me from the Christie Antique show.  The first was a painting of a somewhat miserable looking elderly woman on a black background.

It’s a lesson in shopping.  If you get the butterflies in your belly, just buy it.  In a month you won’t worry about the money and in a year you won’t even remember how much it cost. It’s also a lesson in whether or not the saying “It wasn’t meant to be” is true or not.

I mean, that’s what everyone was saying to me after I went back to buy my chair only to find out it had been sold.

“It wasn’t meant to be.”

“You’ll find a better one.”

“It wasn’t meant to be yours.”


I’ve had alerts on Craiglist, Google, Ebay, Kijiji and Chairish for the past 3 years to notify me if my dream chair surfaces for sale anywhere.

It did once. A Plycraft replica of the Eames chair with a built in footrest.  The holy grail of iconic, mid century, moulded plywood, reclining chairs based on the Eames original … with a twist.  It showed up in Rochester, New York for around $400. I called the seller immediately, told her it was worth more than than that and offered her $600. I set up a time the next morning for me to make the roughly 3 hour drive across the border.  Then of course there would be 3 hours of driving back.

She called me the next morning and left a message saying she had lots of interest in the chair and she wanted me to give her my highest offer on it.  I said no.  What if I made my 3 hour drive and she told me someone else had offered even more money?  What if I got there and she already sold it?  I wasn’t getting into some bidding war with someone who had proven they’d go back on their word.

Since then my notifications have only brought in some sad looking fakes and a couple of people who saw my post on wanting the Plycraft recliner with built in footrest thinking I’d be willing to pay anything for it.  I am not. I’m willing to pay a fair price.

Then a couple of weeks ago,  just a few days after the Christie Antique show situation I got a notification.  There was an Eames replica lounge chair and ottoman for sale.  It was just in Toronto, an hour away. I clicked on the email to take a closer look a the chair.

It was the same style as the chair I saw at Christie’s.

It was the same colour.  The same condition. The same price.

It was the same chair.  I shit you not.

I looked like I’ve been drugged. Don’t I look like I’ve been drugged?

It turns out the guy who bought the chair got it home and decided it was too small for him.  After a few back and forth emails about the hilarity of him selling the chair from Christie’s and me mourning the loss of the chair at Christie’s he not only sold it to me, he delivered it.

I am the size of a very large groundhog, so the chair fits me perfectly.

It is easily the most perfect vintage replica I have ever seen.  The proportions and size are the exact same as the original Eames (which is much smaller than most replicas). The finishes are the same, as is the construction.

Notice the green crocodile suitcases I bought at the show as a consolation prize for losing my chair. They go well with it.

The only dead giveaway that this is a copy is the fact that it’s upholstered in dark brown, not black leather.


There’s only one problem with the chair.  Now I have to redo my entire living room around it.  I wish I could say I’m just joking but I’m not.

These are the things I still like in my living room.  My saddle and saddle stand, the white painted canvas, my lucite table with wood under it.  The end.

So I don’t need to change much else.  Just new rugs, a new coffee table, another chair, a new couch, a side table and artwork.

I’ve already put notifications on Craigslist, Ebay, Chairish and Kijiji.


As he was leaving, Serge, who sold me the chair,  looked back at it in my living a room and said, “You know I thought after so many years of searching that this chair was meant for me but now I understand t was meant for you.  Enjoy it.”

I will.  Just as soon as I replace every other piece of furniture in my living room. Ack.

Maybe this chair wasn’t meant for me.  Double Ack.

You’re Never Going to Believe It. Turns out it WAS Meant To Be.