Kid-sized bean bags became a permanent fixture in the later years of "Peanuts". Charlie Brown, Lucy or Linus would be half-buried in on directly in front of the TV. Another character would come in and say something. The final panel would usually have whoever was in the bean bag do a "flop" reaction, with only feet sticking out of the bean bag.
Shortly after college, this Anon had a GF who was a serious hippie who'd missed the boat (so to speak) by just one generation. She could have been the offspring of "real" hippies but, like so many who found the subculture alluring (then and now) she'd had a thoroughly normal middle-class childhood.
To her credit she truly sought out the authentic roots and artefacts of the subculture. None of that tacky, faux "modern hippie" stuff for her. If it wasn't from that era, she wasn't interested unless she'd made it herself -preferably out of period materials if at all possible. This meant necessity forced her to become a habitual thrift-store and second-hand book junkie. If memory serves, she might have been the one who introduced me to (among other things) the treasures and joys found in both.
Anyway, one day we found the "Regular Size" bag in Delph. Blue. It was in suprisingly good condition. The "fabric-supported vinyl" (aka knock-off Naugahyde) had only a few dusty scuffs on the bottom and those I suspect were probably from getting dragged across the floor at the Salvation Army. Most likely the original owners, like the happy couple on the catalog page, installed their bag in a room with deep carpeting. It was in nice shape and at a great price. Like so many things that seem too good to be true, so was the bean-bag.
That chair was an education from start to finish. In the interests in helping like-minded readers avoid similar difficulties, I'll share my findings...
First lesson. Moving sixteen-plus pounds of flexible, saggy dead-weight is no joke. Just getting that thing from the store to the car gave me a profound appreciation for the difficulties Hannibal Lecter and others of his ilk have in moving bodies. This is particularly true when you're trying desperately not to damage the vinyl.
Second lesson. Getting a bean-bag chair into a two-door sub-compact is an exercise in frustration. Too big for the trunk, too big for the back seat, but you need two people to get the chair in the front seat, so... We managed, eventually, but it turned into a hippie version of the old medieval logic puzzle about getting the fox, the goose and the bag of grain across the river.
Third lesson. Checking furniture with a black-light BEFORE you buy it is a really, really good idea. We didn't and we should have. My then-GF had five or six vintage "faux-woodgrain" black-light fixtures in her place and when she "lit up" the room that evening, we found out EXACTLY what the previous owners had been doing on the bean-bag. Talk about killing the mood... Whoo boy, Carl Sagan could have mapped out the entire Milky Way and three major nebulae just from the stain patterns on that thing. Which led to...
Fourth lesson. Cleaning a bean-bag is almost as much of a nuisance as moving it. Sure, it's one thing to give the thing an easy wipe-down with a damp cloth and some watery detergent. But that doesn't provide a deep-clean and once you KNOW what's on the bean-bag it HAS to be clean. The paradox is anything aggressive enough to thoroughly clean the vinyl is also aggressive enough to degrade it. Remember also, this was in the era before Google and YouTube, so everything was trial and error.
Fifth lesson. "Wet-look" vinyl feels unpleasantly cold to the skin in the winter. Those models are smiling because they are paid to. It's just as bad when the AC is on. Otherwise, it gets incredibly clammy in the summer, particularly when one is in the nude.
Sixth lesson. Building on the Third and Fifth Lessons, lovin' on a bean-bag is entirely over-rated. It -seems- like a great idea until you try it. Just about any act or position in the typical couple's stockpile is more fun on either a.) the bed. b.) the sofa c.) a futon. That's also true for the acts and positions -not- in the typical couple's stockpile, the sort beautifully illustrated in Nik Douglas and Penny Slinger's classic book on Indian mysticism.
Long story short, like so many of the men's fashions from that era, bean-bag furniture look groovy in the catalog but the novelty value vanished rapidly in real-life.
Due to recent events, I'm limiting comments to google account holders only. Sorry if you're a decent person affected by this but the spam has gotten weird.
Kid-sized bean bags became a permanent fixture in the later years of "Peanuts". Charlie Brown, Lucy or Linus would be half-buried in on directly in front of the TV. Another character would come in and say something. The final panel would usually have whoever was in the bean bag do a "flop" reaction, with only feet sticking out of the bean bag.
ReplyDeleteLooks like someone got a new pet rock...
ReplyDeleteShortly after college, this Anon had a GF who was a serious hippie who'd missed the boat (so to speak) by just one generation. She could have been the offspring of "real" hippies but, like so many who found the subculture alluring (then and now) she'd had a thoroughly normal middle-class childhood.
ReplyDeleteTo her credit she truly sought out the authentic roots and artefacts of the subculture. None of that tacky, faux "modern hippie" stuff for her. If it wasn't from that era, she wasn't interested unless she'd made it herself -preferably out of period materials if at all possible. This meant necessity forced her to become a habitual thrift-store and second-hand book junkie. If memory serves, she might have been the one who introduced me to (among other things) the treasures and joys found in both.
Anyway, one day we found the "Regular Size" bag in Delph. Blue. It was in suprisingly good condition. The "fabric-supported vinyl" (aka knock-off Naugahyde) had only a few dusty scuffs on the bottom and those I suspect were probably from getting dragged across the floor at the Salvation Army. Most likely the original owners, like the happy couple on the catalog page, installed their bag in a room with deep carpeting. It was in nice shape and at a great price. Like so many things that seem too good to be true, so was the bean-bag.
That chair was an education from start to finish. In the interests in helping like-minded readers avoid similar difficulties, I'll share my findings...
First lesson. Moving sixteen-plus pounds of flexible, saggy dead-weight is no joke. Just getting that thing from the store to the car gave me a profound appreciation for the difficulties Hannibal Lecter and others of his ilk have in moving bodies. This is particularly true when you're trying desperately not to damage the vinyl.
ReplyDeleteSecond lesson. Getting a bean-bag chair into a two-door sub-compact is an exercise in frustration. Too big for the trunk, too big for the back seat, but you need two people to get the chair in the front seat, so... We managed, eventually, but it turned into a hippie version of the old medieval logic puzzle about getting the fox, the goose and the bag of grain across the river.
Third lesson. Checking furniture with a black-light BEFORE you buy it is a really, really good idea. We didn't and we should have. My then-GF had five or six vintage "faux-woodgrain" black-light fixtures in her place and when she "lit up" the room that evening, we found out EXACTLY what the previous owners had been doing on the bean-bag. Talk about killing the mood... Whoo boy, Carl Sagan could have mapped out the entire Milky Way and three major nebulae just from the stain patterns on that thing. Which led to...
Fourth lesson. Cleaning a bean-bag is almost as much of a nuisance as moving it. Sure, it's one thing to give the thing an easy wipe-down with a damp cloth and some watery detergent. But that doesn't provide a deep-clean and once you KNOW what's on the bean-bag it HAS to be clean. The paradox is anything aggressive enough to thoroughly clean the vinyl is also aggressive enough to degrade it. Remember also, this was in the era before Google and YouTube, so everything was trial and error.
Fifth lesson. "Wet-look" vinyl feels unpleasantly cold to the skin in the winter. Those models are smiling because they are paid to. It's just as bad when the AC is on. Otherwise, it gets incredibly clammy in the summer, particularly when one is in the nude.
Sixth lesson. Building on the Third and Fifth Lessons, lovin' on a bean-bag is entirely over-rated. It -seems- like a great idea until you try it. Just about any act or position in the typical couple's stockpile is more fun on either a.) the bed. b.) the sofa c.) a futon. That's also true for the acts and positions -not- in the typical couple's stockpile, the sort beautifully illustrated in Nik Douglas and Penny Slinger's classic book on Indian mysticism.
Long story short, like so many of the men's fashions from that era, bean-bag furniture look groovy in the catalog but the novelty value vanished rapidly in real-life.
Thanks Anon- I don't think I'll ever look at a bean bag chair the same way ever again.....
ReplyDelete