Meet my bench.
Or, well, what it was anyway.
It was my grandma's back in the 50s or 60s--she says it was in a model home in a housing development when they bought a house. It used to be a bright orange color all over. I'm not entirely sure why the 60s thought this was a brilliant idea, because it wasn't.
It's been sitting in our garage for at least a decade since we moved--I don't remember where it was at the old house but probably something similiar--so it was neatly covered in grime, paint, mold, and old crusty contact paper.
So first there was some major sanding, courtesy of the alley.
What a difference a little sand paper makes!
All this was made harder by the fact that I was storing it in a way that was easier than hauling it in and out of the building. I think.
Oh, and pulling off that contact paper, which was a Big Deal. But luckily I could do that one inside.
Then two layers of primer.
Three layers of paint.
Some major work on the nastiest foam and fabric you ever did see.
A new seat thanks to a borrowed staple gun and the great advice of my friend Kirstine on fabric.
And......
ta-da!
(sorry for the funky coloring, should probably take a photo in the daytime at some point)
This was only my second furniture re-do ever, after I painted a dresser bright red last fall. (okay, it was actually the third, but the second one came out so crappy that I'm calling it still a work in progress, I finally figured out the best way to fix it).
Really, really proud of myself!
1 comment:
You SHOULD be proud of yourself. You did a great job!
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