Latest / Style Room: Fashion, beauty & personal style / Why You Should Restore That Wobbly Chair (It’s a Style Superpower) | Style Room
Transcript
- There is a specific kind of silence that happens when you sand down a piece of wood, and it has nothing to do with the house being empty. It’s the sound of time slowing down just enough for you to remember why you loved something in the first place. I want you to close your eyes for a second and picture the smell of sawdust mixed with linseed oil. It’s earthy, warm, and incredibly grounding. For most of my career in New York, I was surrounded by things that were brand new, glossy, and utterly disposable. We were obsessed with the next drop, the next trend, the next immediate gratification. But lately, I’ve been spending my evenings in this small Brooklyn apartment, not looking at fabrics or swatches, but looking at a wobbly wooden chair I found at a flea market last weekend. It had seen better days. The varnish was cracked like a dry riverbed, one leg was shorter than the others, and the seat was worn smooth in the exact spot where someone would sit for hours, perhaps reading, perhaps waiting, perhaps just thinking. When I brought it home, I didn’t see junk. I saw potential. I saw a story that hadn’t finished being written yet. And I realized that in a world that demands we buy fresh every season, there is a radical act of rebellion in taking care of what already exists. Let’s unpack that for a moment. We live in an era where if something isn’t perfect, it’s trash. If a shirt has a loose thread, you toss it. If a sofa has a scratch, you replace it. This mindset doesn’t just apply to our wardrobes; it bleeds into our homes and our souls. We are terrified of imperfection because we think it signals failure. But here is the truth: imperfection is where the character lives. That scratch on the table? That’s from the dinner party where you laughed until you cried with your best friend. The wear on the chair arm? That’s from the morning coffee ritual that started during a hard year and became your anchor. When we restore these objects, we aren’t trying to hide their history. We are honoring it. We are saying that this object mattered enough to be saved. And in doing so, we give ourselves permission to be works in progress, too. You don’t need to be polished and varnished to be worthy of love. You just need to be present. There is a meditative quality to restoration that I have come to rely on more than any meditation app. When I’m sanding a surface, I have to pay attention. I can’t think about my emails, or my inbox, or whether I replied to that text message three days ago. I have to feel the grain of the wood. I have to listen to the rhythm of the sandpaper against the timber. It forces me into my body. It forces me into the now. I remember my early days as an editorial assistant, rushing through deadlines, barely tasting my lunch, living in a state of perpetual anxiety. I thought productivity was the only metric that mattered. But now, I find that my most productive moments often come after I’ve spent an hour fixing something broken. It clears the mental clutter. It reminds me that I am capable of creating order out of chaos. And that feeling of competence, that quiet pride when you hold up a restored piece and see the shine return to the grain, is far more satisfying than any retail therapy high ever was. We talk a lot about sustainability in the fashion world, and rightly so. Fast fashion is a disaster for our planet and our wallets. But sustainability isn’t just about buying organic cotton or choosing vintage denim. It’s about a mindset. It’s about valuing resources. When you choose to repair a chair instead of buying a new one from a big-box store, you are making a choice that aligns with your deeper values. You are rejecting the throwaway culture. You are investing in longevity. And let’s be honest, it feels good to be the kind of person who fixes things. It makes you feel grounded. It makes you feel like you belong to a lineage of people who knew how to care for their belongings. There’s a certain elegance in that. It’s chic-upbeat, sure, but it’s also deeply serious. It says that you respect the earth, and you respect the labor that went into making that chair decades ago. You’re not just saving money; you’re saving the soul of the object. You know I always say, dress for the life you’re building. Well, I’d argue that you should also live in a space that reflects the life you’re building. Your home is an extension of your personal style. If your closet is filled with pieces that tell a story of who you are, your furniture should do the same. A restored chair is a statement. It shows that you appreciate craftsmanship. It shows that you have patience. It shows that you understand that beauty is often revealed through care, not purchased through convenience. Think about the women you admire most. Are they the ones with the most expensive, pristine everything? Or are they the ones with the quirks, the stories, the things that have clearly been loved and maintained? I bet it’s the latter. I bet it’s the woman with the well-worn leather jacket and the hand-me-down vase. These are the details that make a space feel lived-in and real. They make it feel like a sanctuary, not a showroom. And you deserve a sanctuary. Now, I won’t lie to you. Restoration can be messy. It can be frustrating. Sometimes you strip away layers of paint only to find rot underneath. Sometimes your hands get covered in grime that no amount of scrubbing will remove. But there is a profound joy in that struggle. It teaches you resilience. It teaches you that not every project goes according to plan, and that’s okay. You adapt. You problem-solve. You learn. And when you finally sit in that restored chair, even if it’s still a little uneven, even if you notice a tiny flaw in the finish, you feel a connection to it that you could never feel with a brand-new item. You made this. You cared for this. You gave it a second chance. And in a way, you gave yourself a second chance, too. You reminded yourself that you are creative. You are capable. You are enough, exactly as you are, flaws and all. So go ahead. Find that wobbly chair. Pick up the sandpaper. Let’s slow down together. I’m Gabriella Miles. Remember, style isn’t just what you wear. It’s how you treat the world around you. Take care of your things, and they’ll take care of you. Until next time.