Designer fails: Where's the base?

I started this series on designer fails with a post about an Adrian Pearsall collection that was lush, plush overkill.   I mentioned at the time that I was starting with Pearsall to prove that I could be impartial, because I'm usually a real fan of his.

Without really planning it, this second post of the series is about another of my favorite designers, Jens Risom. My original premise was that even great designers have ill-conceived or poorly executed ideas, and I have an example residing in my own home.

At his best, Risom has produced furniture with the most gorgeous bases I've ever seen, including some that make the tabletop, chair or sofa seem to float. Take a look at some of these stunning designs.

Comfort Conscience lounge chairs...a definite SUCCESS
circamodern.com

Floating bench...another SUCCESS
1stdibs.com

Lounge chair floating on a three-legged base
1stdibs.com

Floating coffee table...YES!

My Jens Risom credenza...a KEEPER!

Take, on the other hand, the tables I have in my home. They have beautiful bases. Unfortunately, you can't see them without practically lying on the floor. The table tops extend almost 4.5 inches (11.4 cm) beyond the bases and are simply too large. Couple that with the fact that the tables are extremely low, and even someone who's 5'3" like I am has problems seeing what's underneath. As a result, the bases that were designed to make the tabletops appear to float are hidden and seem crushed under the weight of the massive tops.

Remember the Wendy's commercial in the 1980s featuring Clara Peller asking, "Where's the beef?" That's how I feel about the bases when I look at my tables.

My table...Where's the base?
This has to go down as a FAIL.

The same table taken from a better angle
See, it really does have a beautiful base under there.
worthpoint.com

Designer fails: Lush, plush fur

I love Adrian Pearsall's work. In fact, he's probably my favorite American designer. If you hadn't figured that out already, I'm sure the post I wrote a few days ago left no doubt. Almost all of his designs completely sweep me off my feet. One in particular is a white gondola sofa we sold about a year ago. I still think about it wistfully.

Adrian Pearsall gondola sofa...a definite SUCCESS

In my opinion, that's one classy sofa. When Mr. Pearsall was good, he was very, very good. But not all his designs should have made it off the drawing board. 

I think that's a fair observation to make about the work of most designers, so I'm starting a new series about designer fails. As I run across pieces I think should never have been brought to fruition, I'll share them with you. And to prove I can be objective, I'm starting with the designer I most would have liked to meet and whose recent passing I have sorely grieved. So forgive me, dear Adrian, but I have to give two thumbs down to lush, plush fur. 

A few months ago, we sold a Pearsall sofa upholstered in green plush. We lovingly called it Oscar the Couch, and it was fun and kitschy...but it was on a beautiful gondola base and could easily have been reupholstered if one were so inclined. There was also a matching chair. However, the pieces were bought by two different customers. Sometimes a room can hold only so much kitsch.

Adrian Pearsall plush gondola sofa...a SUCCESS when toned down with less kitschy pieces

Honestly, I can't find one thing about this red and chartreuse room that I like except the plants. Granted, it's a 1972 design and not his mid-century work, which goes a long way towards explaining his lapse in good taste. (After all, most of us who were adults in the 70s and 80s have a few photos of our homes or of ourselves taken during those decades that will remain forever locked away.)

The lush, plush sofa and chairs are bad enough, but lush, plush floor lamps and a lush, plush coffee table too? Yikes. And after all Pearsall's beautiful mid-century walnut, what's up with that shiny metal trim that looks like Paul Evans-meets-the Partridge Family? Just goes to show that nobody's perfect.