The Recession Is Over ...

The recession is over! (Just in time for the Rapture.)

How do I know this? Have I consulted leading economists? Have I monitored leading financial indicators? Have I polled a healthy sampling of the American public to gauge their hopefulness about the future and our economic recovery?

I have not. I have, instead, turned to a much more trustworthy, stalwart source: the "baby & child" catalog from Restoration Hardware.

But not only does the catalog provide proof that the recession is over, it also contains at least one of the most important developments in modern history. "The best idea since the Wright Brothers," the back cover proclaims. "Introducing unlimited furniture delivery starting at $95."

Oh, ho, you thought that polio vaccine was something to crow about? Wrong!

I presume that the copywriter was going for "The best idea since the Wright Brothers'," implying that unlimited furniture delivery starting at $95 is the best idea since the Wright Brothers' idea for how man could take to the skies. I presume that the copywriter was not implying that unlimited furniture delivery starting at $95 is not the best idea since Mother and Father Wright had the idea to have children. See what confusion a missing apostrophe can wreak? Respect the apostrophe, people!

But I digress. I was detailing my findings on the end of the recession.

But first, a side note: In the rosy economic future, all interiors will appear as though they were photographed on a rainy day. Every room will have a subdued quality about it that telegraphs that the contents of it are Very Expensive. And most importantly, the furnishings will clearly convey to all who see them that the parents of the children who inhabit those rooms must spend an exorbitant amount of money on upholstery-cleaning services.


Let us begin with the Mini French Wing Chair. As the name indicates, this chair is not for you. This is not a chair in which you and your child will cuddle and read a bedtime story. Don't be absurd. This chair is for your child. The one who better have just scrubbed for surgery, because this baby only comes in natural linen upholstery and nothing ruins the look of natural linen like a smudge of grape jelly. So fork over $429, because your child cannot possibly sit on his or her bed, and your child surely cannot sit on the floor. If your child is not sitting in a chair with "[h]and-hammered exposed brads" that "reflect its artisan tailoring," you can't really call yourself a parent, now, can you?

Answer: No.

What's that? You're not the Mini French Wing Chair type? Are you telling me that in an effort to appear more common?


Perhaps you think the Mini Professor's Chair is more pedestrian, less ostentatious? Well, it is "[c]overed in flour-sack hemp upholstery with the chunky weave of vintage French granary bags." Upholstery in the style of French flour sacks. A reasonable compromise. And hemp. How very now. But you'll pay for your bourgeoisie ways. The Mini Professor's Chair is $499.


Of course, every child needs a bed, and of course any bed worthy of slumber has a headboard. Perhaps this French Wing Headboard. But wait. This isn't paired with the Mini French Wing Chair, is it? It is?! My God, stop reading this long enough to fire your decorator! Your child cannot have matching furniture. Coordinated? Yes. Matching? No. Where the hell do you think you're shopping? Wickes? There's a reason Wickes went out of business. Please try to keep up. Of course, you're teaching your child some measure of humility, so you only allow their tiny body to slumber in a twin-size bed, right? Smart move. The twin-size headboard is only $699. The full-size headboard your haughty neighbor bought for their kid, who will grow up to trash hotel rooms, is $799. Go ahead and feel smug.


In keeping with the linen theme and the monochromatic future of economic prosperity, these Linen-Cotton Drapery panels are a bargain at $119 each for the standard 84-inch length. Sure, you could save $10 per and only shell out $109 each for the 63-inch panels, but why would you want your child to grow up feeling inferior? (Confidential to those of you who live in real magnificent homes, not those new-construction, stone-veneered wannabes that only require 84-inch panels in their standard-ceilinged rooms: Worry not; 96-inch panels are available for you. But only if you use your American Express Black cards.)

So hop to it, people. Don't let your children spend another night on Buzz Lightyear sheets in headboardless beds. Leading economic indicators are counting on you.

(Thanks to Doreen for passing along the catalogy wonderment.)