Wednesday, July 22, 2009

Toothy Chair























I don't usually pay a lot of attention to chairs. The extent of my knowledge about seating decor is whether or not it respectfully accepts my butt. But a few times in life, I am privy to a truly wondrous piece of furniture. The piece of furniture that makes me think, "Whoa. That's a cool chair."

I don't really like going to the dentist, but I keep going back to Dr. K. partly because he has this really funny and thematic chair in his waiting room: The Toothy Chair. It might sound frivolous choosing a dentist based on a chair intended for children, but the funny chair helps me relax before the I lie unnervingly supine with a hygienist knuckle-deep in my mouth.

Just think if all businesses had chairs in shapes that exemplified their products or services. What if I could sit on the cornea of a giant bean-bag chair eyeball at the optometrist? How about sitting on an oversized steak chair while dining at Black Angus? And who wouldn't want to sit on Tom Cruise's face while waiting in line for Top Gun at Great America?

Themed chairs have gotten a bad reputation lately. Or rather, me sitting in themed chairs as an adult has gotten a bad reputation lately. I often hear people pejoratively refer to these beloved chairs as "juvenile" or "tacky." As an adult, I apparently should know better than to become giddy when I see a fun chair. While I agree some theme chairs are hideous, many others are simple and tasteful if given the leeway to be light-hearted, like the Toothy Chair.

Many cherished and accepted adult activities tap into that part inside us that wants to sit on something whimsical. Merry-go-Rounds. Roller coasters. Fancy cars. All those special types of seats are birthed in our lovable childhood experiences with quarter-operated cars outside the supermarket and the mascot-laden playgrounds at McDonald's. Why shun our instinctual affinity for fun chairs simply because we are older?

If we suspend our skepticism and regain a piece of our childhood, we might find unexpected delight in a chair. If we suspend our disbelief, even if only for a moment, we might regain the ability to say, "Whoa. Now that's a cool chair."



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