My love/hate relationship with the Barcelona chair

I remember the first time I set my budding designer eyes on the Barcelona chair. It was back in design school – a class on historical furniture and architecture I believe – where my obsession would begin. The whole section on mid-century modern completely captivated me.

Being raised in a small cow town in Arizona, I had never been exposed to anything quite like it before. Sumptuous, tufted leather perched atop criss-crossed, chrome legs. Masculine and feminine all at once. I was without a doubt, smitten.

I promised myself that upon graduation, I would reward myself with a Barcelona chair of my very own - in white leather and ideally with a matching ottoman. Not brand-new bright white, mind you I only wanted the well worn, slightly yellowed white leather. Only a real Barcelona chair would do for a real designer.

Throughout the rest of my schooling, I would find any excuse to reference the chair or its’ designer, Mies van der Rohe. I’d write reports on Mies, specify the chair over and over and over again in concept boards and sketch it endlessly for perspective drawings. Surely my admiration of such a stunning piece of design was proof of my unquestionably good taste. Yes sir, I was going to be one hell of a designer.

Then, a terrible thing happened. I started to see it popping up everywhere. I mean everywhere. On the sets of my favorite TV shows, in magazine ads, commercials and even a doctors’ waiting room. Watching HGTV or reading shelter magazines – it was there! Anytime anyone talked about modern or contemporary design – it was there! It was like being cheated on. No, it was worse - I had discovered that my one, true love had been loved by others, oh so many others, before me.

Being the jealous and possessive type, I had foolishly believed I was all alone in my adoration. Knowing that it was being used and admired so well by the masses had the effect of making the Barcelona chair just a little less special in my eyes. Rather than seeing its’ popularity as validation of my own good taste, it meant that I was just like everyone else. Not unique. Not a revolutionary design student who would turn the entire world of interior design on its’ head the minute I graduated.

I hadn’t stumbled upon some secret chair that had been in hiding, waiting for me to come along and rediscover it. HELLO!! It was THE ICONIC CHAIR OF THE MID-CENTURY MODERN MOVEMENT!

With that earth shattering reality staring me dead in the face, the Barcelona chair quickly began to lose its’ luster. What I had once found extraordinary soon became incredibly passe. “Oh please. Not that chair again. I’ll bet they get really creative and set two Barcelona chairs side by side with an Isamu Noguchi coffee table in front”, I’d say upon seeing it in yet another design magazine.

I now dismissed my beloved with a haughty roll of the eyes and an annoyed sigh.

Like so many great love affairs before, mine with the Barcelona chair eventually fizzled out. I never did buy myself that graduation present and I don’t know if I ever will. While I still see the chair as a beautiful and important piece of art, it no longer captivates me in the same way. I've moved on.

I harbor no bitterness or feelings of ill will towards my former flame. In fact, I look back on those idealistic days of design school with fondness and gratitude. The Barcelona chair was my first awakening to a new and exciting design aesthetic and for that, I will always be grateful.