Good Source for Temporary Slipcovers: Making Do with Uglysofa.com

While I am mulling over the definitions of making do and frugality proferred by my readers, I will give you a good source for the kind of making do (in the definite second best sense) necessary for many: slipcovers.

I am the proud owner of two vintage Henredon armchairs of pleasing shape, whose upholstery seems to have been used as scratching posts by millions of cats (of previous owner).* I am also the owner of a very shabby sofa that I got for free. Not exactly free: I bought a sofa, only to see the upholstery fabric disintegrate in less than a year. The seller (cursed be his name: Wes) said that the damage had been done by my cats. Only I didn't have any cats. I girded my frugal loins and called the company; after an investigations, they replaced the sofa and told me just to keep the old one. Thanks!

Now all three reside in my study/guest room/former room of Frugal Son. They are dispiriting to behold. Eventually, I will have slipcovers made for the chairs (at least $250 each, including fabric). Trouble is: I'm not sure where these treasures will end up and the sofa will be history pretty soon, but is useful for the nonce.

Those loosefit slipcovers which are sold everywhere are sooooooo hideous. And frugal me hates spending money on something hideous, not to mention temporary. By chance, I came upon the aptly named site: Ugly Sofa. They sell seconds from Pottery Barn: dropcloth slipcovers, and, even cheaper, the kind with separate pillows.

I bought the dropcloth because they are huge squares of fabric, which means that I can eventually use them as fabric for my "real slipcovers."

Warning: the shipping is very expensive.

Good thing: this seems to be a small family biz. One of their other offerings is Christmas stockings that came with wacky monograms. They cut the tops off and made new cuffs. Ingenious! Frugal!

Verdict: I got yards and yards of nice cotton twill that can be re-used. It doesn't look great (because I am uncoordinated and can't arrange fabric well), but it looks better than what is underneath.

I'm very happy to be making do--in this instance.

And, since I mentioned millions of cats, let me direct you to this children's book, which was a favorite of both Mr FS and his mother, Virginia. It was reprinted when our kids were little and we bought millions of copies to give as gifts.

Wonderful Books for Children for Chanukah and Christmas: Not for Children Only

Just thinking about these books fills me with emotion. They are worth owning (I do), but remember: LIBRARY.






Do you have any favorite books from these and other traditions?

Frugal in France: Contrarianism and Macaroons

I am generally of a contrarian bent. Sometimes I think that is just a nice way to say hostile to forms of authority. I do think that contrarianism is conducive to frugality: every time someone says You must do/have this, the Contrarian says Why? or even No.

It is, as you might expect, often hard to be contrarian because people think you are weird. It can save a ton of money, however, as in, You must send your kids to private school because the public schools are terrible, You must send your kids on all of the overpriced Disney trips offered each year, and so on.

However, the Contrarian can miss out on things just because it becomes a habit to be contrary. I was thinking these thoughts recently as Mr. FS and I took a mercifully quick stroll down the Champs-Elysées. The street was still decorated for Bastille Day, very cool. It was fun (for a short while) to watch the hordes of people.

Two observations. There was a LINE OF PEOPLE AROUND THE BLOCK to get into the Louis Vuitton store. Almost everyone was carrying a small green bag from the Laduree Macaroon shop.

Needless to say, contrarian me would not stand on line to get into an LV shop. But I really should get over my contrarian ways and try at least one of those famous macaroons, which have become something of a cult item.

So the contrarianism that fuels my frugality--and enabled us to have a longish sojourn in France--may have kept us from braving the crowds (even at the other locations, I'm sure) and trying an iconic macaroon.

Here is a book I remember reading in my childhood. My father called me Contrary Woodrow for years. I'm sure he changed his ways by the end of the story.

So, readers, are you contrarian? Have you tried one of the famous macaroons?