confession...

I’ve been having an affair, you see.

And my wife has known about it right from the start. At first, she tolerated it, even as its markers made themselves manifest around the house at a steadily increasing rate. It went on like this for a year or so.

Then – and I found this to be most puzzling – she began to encourage it here and there. Curiously, her reaction served to revitalize the affair, to provide it with a newfound lustre, at a point when its thrill had just begun to wane.

And now? Well, I have to laugh, because at present, she actually condones it, and even helps to fund it. She’ll occasionally ask, “What’s new? Anything I don’t know about?” And at that, I’ll haul out the evidence, pictures and all, and she’ll just page through with a wide smile on her face.

You must realize, dear reader, that it is all harmless, really, though it does occasionally keep me up late and distracts me to no end. It’s only an affair of sorts, and if you must know, the object of my after-hours amour is...the Design Within Reach (DWR) catalog.

After everyone else has gone to bed, it’s just the catalog and me, and oh, how I pore over its pages! It, and everything in it, is exactly what I want.

Invariably, during the course of one of our late-night rendezvous, I will close my eyes and see: my big butt planted firmly in an Eames Lounge Chair; my scores of inscrutable jottings, together with used Kleenexes, intertwined atop a Prism Table; my slumbering, five-foot-nine-inch frame, sprawled like a dead fish across a Leggero Bed; my muddled thoughts measured and diagrammed in CAD, and writ large in (nicely leaded) Trade Gothic. (Oh, Trade Gothic – how I have long ignored you! What have I been thinking?)

Only part catalog, really, it is the best of its kind (although its kind are truly few), and like the pieces it sells, it is art. Part catalog, you ask? Oh yes, it is catalog cum designer biography cum interior design journal cum brief history of furniture design in the 20th century.

The classical masters are all represented: a recent issue features the Eames Management Chair on the cover and pieces by Mies van der Rohe, Le Corbusier, Breuer, Noguchi, and Nelson throughout. But some of the best pagespace is reserved for up-and-comers as well as prominent designers of the present such as Richard Holbrook, Philippe Starck, Eric Pfeiffer, Nani Marquina, and the firms Stua and BLU DOT.

All of this might sound stiff and sterile, but indeed, it is not. Pieces are photographed in offices and homes (check out that staircase in the Nabashima/Kahle residence), and models are used on an increasing basis; for more than ample evidence, see the cover of the “Modern in the mix” issue. Go online and request the periodic “Design Notes” emails, and you’ll receive updates from founder/globetrotter Rob Forbes that read like postcards from a friend.

Speaking of online, and thanks to the involvement of image technologists Scene 7, you can design your future furniture on the site, substituting color swatches and enlarging pieces. And speaking of image, that of DWR was firmly established and continues to be well honed by uberfirm Pentagram.

Some of the design is clearly without reach: readers may balk at spending US$3500 for the Grand Confort Sofa, upholstered in cotton twill, no less. And $595 for a Vipp trash can? Riiight. But you will find much of it to be affordable; nay, in some cases, surprisingly so. The Kyoto chair is one of the finest around for its purpose; a bargain at $60. And as a personal testimonial, I’m here to tell you that the Transporte 2.0 table (under $500) is all you could ever hope for in a workspace. The thing is huge (more room than ever for those Kleenexes); in addition, it rolls, has two grommets for cables, and thus far, has proved itself to be one strong mother. It will outlast me by a longshot.

If you live on the West Coast, you can see the stuff in person – eight retail stores and growing. Stuck here in the heartland? Well, the relationship will just have to continue long-distance. At least for a little while.

Oh, it’s a selfish, foolish thing I’ve got going, this affair. Many a dinner table conversation has been compromised upon a new catalog arriving in the mail. And many a facetious floor plan has been drawn up using DWR pieces I will never own. But on the other hand, it’s the most innocuous of affairs, really. My fantasies focus on what is best in modern home design, and I so remain pure in thought, word, and deed. Even when those thoughts wander off to words spoken and deeds done on the supple, black leather of the Mies Day Bed.

26-January 2003