Martha-Margaret Mead Stewart

Now that we’ve just (almost) finished moving into and redecorating our new home, I have to admit that I’ve become slightly obsessed with furniture, decorating styles, and other minute home-oriented details such as the shape of the porch pillars. We have found ourselves driving somewhere, and we will both be checking out the houses we pass for the color of their clapboard, the style of their shutters, and then discuss their quality in serious Martha Stewart discourse. Since our new home has some unexpected empty walls, we have been shopping for furniture. A lot. More than I really care for. However, besides leading to the purchase of a pretty rug, a nice end-table, and a very simple but lovely hallway table, it’s also once again given me the opportunity to play the furniture anthropologist. A sort of a combination between Margaret Mead and Martha Stewart if you will.

I hate to state the obvious, but, honestly, American furniture is big. Or at least bigger. For instance, did you know that although IKEA stores all over the world carry roughly the same products, the furniture sold in their American stores is on the whole a little bigger than it is in the rest of the world? I always knew that our American furniture is bigger than some of the European pieces we own, but it’s nice to see it confirmed like that.

We became painfully aware of the size of our American furniture when we lived in Germany. We always felt like the entire living room was dwarved by our entertainment center, and the bedroom set just about barely fit into the bedroom. We used to have to squeeze in between the two dressers to get to our hamper, and only one dresser could be opened at the time, while the bed only fit when pushed up against a wall, which meant I spent several years with my nose pressed against the most horrid floral-patterned wallpaper. When we moved to Georgia, we had been so conditioned into believing that our furniture was, apparently, huge, that when we first saw our rental home, we were convinced that our furniture would, once again, barely fit into the different rooms. So then when our shipment finally came in, and we saw our furniture for the first time in months, my husband couldn’t help but wonder if it had shrunk on the way over. Because when we put our different pieces into place, we found that not only did they fit, we had more than ample room left over on either side. It was a very exciting moment to realize that I would no longer have to crawl over husband-dear to get to the bathroom.

Now many people have told me that the reason that American furniture is big, is because Americans are bigger too. Not to make a point here, but I refuse to believe that. I don’t for a minute believe that if Europeans had the room they wouldn’t trade in their full-sized bed for a California King. I honestly think American furniture is larger because it can be. American homes tend to be larger than European homes, and so the age-old truth of “if you got it, flaunt it” applies. Why squeeze yourself into a 22” Ikea Stockholm chair if you can have a 36” La-Z-Boy recliner? I really enjoy our king-sized bed, especially right after my husband leaves in the morning, since I can go back to sleep pretty much diagonally. And even though I loved our home in Germany (nothing can compare to a mountain view from your living room window), I love being able to pick furniture and rugs without having to worry about whether it will fit or not. And the best part about our new home? Well, for the first time, we now have room for a second chair next to our couch, so momma is finally getting a big old American reclining chair of her own! Of course, I’ll make sure it’s got a European-style pattern, but more about that tomorrow.

Coming up next: Martha-Margaret: Flowers or straight lines?