My Father’s Chairs

I have two special chairs that have always been in my life in some form or another, and predate me by about 20 years.

The chairs were designed by Elisas Svedberg for NK, AKA Nordiska Kompaniet, essentially the Macy’s of Sweden, still in business today. They are the “Trivia” Safari chair, designed to be broken down into parts and wrapped up in its seat and back fabric, to (theoretically) bring camping. My father bought them when he was in graduate school in Stockholm in the 1940s, when he was in his mid-20s. I love to imagine him going to the department store back then and buying them new. I wonder what he paid for them. He told me later that these were the first items of furniture he had ever bought.

As a child, I remember seeing the chairs in photos in a home my parents had before I was born, thinking they were cool. But in 1966, when I was a baby, my parents moved into a roomy colonial in a suburban cul-de-sac in New Jersey, and the chairs were rolled up and put away. My mother was never a a fan of anything mid-century modern, and this was the perfect excuse to get them out of sight. Mid-century was not going to work in this situation!

So, fast forward to the 1980s, after the kids left home and my father pulled them out of the attic, petitioning my mother to bring them back to life for his office. The leather straps had dried up and the original fabric had disintegrated, so my mother cut and fit new leather arm straps herself, and made a new seat and back for them. She was quite crafty. They looked great. He had them in his office for about 15 years, until the late 90s, when one day out of the blue and to my surprise, he offered to give them to me. Of course, I accepted the offer. It was only then that I learned when, where, and why he bought them, as his spoke of them nostalgically. I think he knew how much I had admired them, and he knew my mother would be happy to get them out of the house. Meanwhile, I was impressed by my father’s great taste - and thrilled to bring them up to Boston. Years later, my brother visited and asked with some ire, “Hey, how did you get these!?” I simply said, “Pappa gave them to me.” I don’t think he believed me. I’m pretty sure he still thinks I absconded with them in the dark of night while nobody was watching.

I have had them in the living room of every home I’ve lived in since then. Somehow, they always work. A classic design that will never go out of style. We have some laughs when people come over and (try) to sit in them, or, rather, trust their judgement and just avoid them altogether. They’re low-slung and intimidating, but once people are in, it’s all good, and they usually comment on their comfort. But getting out again can be tricky, depending on the common sense and general fitness of the subject. My 89 year old mother-in-law famously got in and out of one of them with ease numerous times one night as she told a story with histrionic animation to a group of guests about an “Egyptian esophogus”. So, my husband always likes to say, “if my 89 year old mother can do it, so can you!”

The photo below shows the chairs as they are today, re-covered and re-strapped since my mother re-did them in the 80s. I paid someone to do it; I’m not as crafty as my mother.

Hilma and August