In which I ponder lucite

I love my furniture. From the dining room table with scratches on top from the massive paper cutter we used when assembling wedding invitations to the beloved green piano (a mahogany 1937 Wurlitzer, painted green by my grandmother in a fit of pure genius in the late '60s) to the simple Ikea dresser I bought during a very odd business trip to Chicago – each piece is near and dear to my heart.

We don’t frivolously add furniture in this house. No sir. I have a small wish list of areas that need tables and benches and window seats, so hubs has promised to roll up his sleeves and build them. Our ultimate goal is to leave our future children and grandchildren going for each others’ throats over the furniture Grampy Hubs built. That’s what fams are for.

But lately, as I wait for a deck and paver patio to arise in the back yard so we can start building furniture, I’ve noticed my eyes are a-wandering. Specifically, they wander to Lucite furniture.

Yum! That bench is just darling. It seems like a good start for a lucite ludite like myself.

Yes, loving the legs! The '80s style, not so much. But this, in cream, surrounded by big, fluffy peonies in galvanized buckets in my breezy, imaginary attic master suite? Heck ya!

A tad fancy for my actual life, but - oh! so! pret-ty! Maybe a chair or two in our basement bar?

I love this! We already have a bed, but I'm sold on the see-through foot trend. If I can find lucite feet somewhere, I can definitely see adding them to the mid-century-ish cabinets we use for an entertainment center. Consider it on my to-do list.

Another good way to start small, with something like this set on an ottoman, but for $90, I'll have to pass.

No way am I tidy enough for this. But, for you clean freaks - this as a coffee table, filled with chunky blankets by a fireplace? Oh, how I love contrast.

Personally, after researching lucite finds for this post, I'm convinced I need something. You?