Recovering the Cover

At my request, a seamstress friend graciously changed the cover of the pad on my old stool with a new one today.  In other words, she recovered (covered anew) the pad, and in so doing, recovered (salvaged) the whole piece.  I am grateful!

The existing pad had a faded pink cover.  I vaguely remember my mother making it when she started using the stool at a dressing table located in front of her bedroom’s massive French windows.  The table was protected by a dresser scarf edged in tatted lace, and covered with little round tins of brightly colored rouge, clear nail polish and metal nail files, lipsticks of various colors, and an oval ceramic dish holding face powder and a puff with a satin ribbon across the back.

Today when my seamstress friend removed the pink cover, we discovered – voila, déjà vu! - an older cover that very much resembled the fabric I’d selected for the new one.   The similarity was uncanny.  She thought I’d subliminally remembered that old fabric from my childhood and selected the new to match it, all without conscious awareness.  I have no idea, but the parallel colors and weaves do seem remarkable. 

Later, when applying felt protectors to the feet, I removed metal slides (apparently original to the stool) with a 1911 patent date stamped inside each one.  Underneath the seat “394 ½” had been painted in black.  I looked online but found no clue as to the meaning of that number.

I’m sentimental about my “new” old stool as it displays a few baskets this evening, and can’t help but wonder about its origins, uses, and owners.  I wish it could talk and tell me about its life.