This poor little Victorian chair sat at a shop for over a year. Gorilla glue oozing from its broken joints. Too weak to hold a sitter. Too purple to fit in today's world of tan decor.
My style is primitive. Chairs such as this belong in a Mississippi Riverfront mansion like my friend in Missouri owns, not a log cabin on a creek in Alabama.
Yet, even a primitive furniture person such as myself can't help but see beauty where beauty is.
So I offered $30. The lady said that will be fine.
Well, this is quite the contrast I must say, but not to worry. I'm planning a glorious Victorian-Empire secret salon boudoir room in my next house. Closed door; invitation only.