“The Real Cost of Rip-Offs”

The June Issue of Dwell has an article called “The Real Cost of Rip-Offs” that I’ve been seeing/hearing quite a few people comment on.  This notion of “real/affordable modern” was a major impetus for starting this blog several years ago.  One of the blogs I follow, The Brick House, posted regarding being quoted by Dwell on this very issue.  The author sort of condones or even encourages knock-offs in certain situations.  Sure, she lauds the common party-line of “buy authentic vintage when you can,” but she definitely says it’s OK (or even necessary) to buy knock-offs ‘cause they’re more affordable to people on a realistic budget.

I think this is an issue that most “normal” (i.e. not rich) fans of midcentury modern are torn on.  On the one hand, you want to make sure that the quality of the chair that you’re buying means it will last and that the original designer is getting the credit (and pay) he/she deserves.  However, there comes a point where the cost is simply prohibitive, and the average person is forced to either buy a knock-off (if you can’t find what you’re looking for used) or not buy at all.

I did a post a while back regarding some Saarinen Tulip Chair knock-offs we purchased. I knew we wanted a round Saarinen table for our breakfast nook, and was fortunate enough to find one on eBay.  However, finding the chairs (armless Tulips) proved more of a challenge, and every time I searched, I found the knock-offs staring me in the face.  At $250 instead of $1,500 for the authentic Knoll, I decided to give them a shot.  You can read about the debacle that followed in my original post, but needless to say, I learned my lesson.  That said, I think there are certain items where the knock-off would serve your needs without the danger of failure (fewer moving parts, materials that are less apt to fail, etc.). [Shh… don’t tell anyone I said that].

This brings us to the argument regarding whether or not people should be “allowed” to have things they can’t afford, and how knock-offs might actually drive up the cost of the real McCoy.  The first argument is answered simply by: if you can find something to make you happy for the price, who is to say you shouldn’t be “allowed” to have it as long as any laws aren’t being broken (you’ll just have to deal with the consequences of shoddy workmanship and functionality –and this is often a hard lesson, since you’ll still be spending your hard-earned money on something that will fail after a few short years or less).  I think the second argument is nonsense.  The difference between authentic and knock-off is fairly easily discernable. In other words, knock-offs aren’t really fooling anybody (if for no other reason than the price tag), and in most cases, no one’s actually trying to pass them off as the real deal. Not to mention, people who can afford the high prices of “designer” furniture would never buy a knock-off, thus, the price of a designer item is not being affected by knock-offs, because the target market for the designer item is unaffected.  I suppose one could make an argument for an item becoming less desirable if tons and tons of “normal” people own a knock-off version (thus devaluing the original), but that’s a little like saying people won’t buy a Nelson Bubble because Ikea sells paper lanterns in similar shapes.

So let’s talk about status vs. function.  What is the purpose of the piece of furniture in question?  Most midcentury modern furniture was not intended to be a status symbol, in fact, quite the opposite.  Notable designers of the 50’s and 60’s, especially “case study” designers, were looking for ways to bring sensible and beautiful design to the masses –highest quality at a reasonable price.  This begs the question of a responsibility that manufacturers/sellers/studios have not only to the consumer, but also to the intentions of the original designers.  As much as the word “Ikea” is dreaded in many design circles, I don’t think there’s any question that if Ikea had been around in 1958, Charles and Ray Eames would have gladly been working with them.

Before people start sending fiery hate-mail regarding this notion, I will qualify that we are talking about an age where affordable manufacturing was still possible in the United States and quality did not suffer for cost of manufacturing; you didn’t have to build things in China and Malaysia with underpaid labor to make them accessible.

This also isn’t to say there aren’t instances where “high design” items, or at least iconic pieces, aren’t still sometimes priced “appropriately” (at least somewhat affordably).  I did another post on the Nelson Bubble Lamp.  At $300, adjusted for inflation, it costs the exact same as the first day it rolled off the line in 1947 (for $35).

There are also times where an item is really expensive, but probably should be. I am TOTALLY in love with the Corvo chair by Noé Duchaufour-Lawrance for Bernhardt Design. It’s gorgeous, hand-crafted from Walnut (in North Carolina, no less), and costs $1,500. If someone is creating a chair out of hardwood by hand (not to mention advertising it and taking it to market), $1,500 probably isn’t out of the question. Can I afford it? No. Can I buy a knock off? No (nor would I).  But I would suggest that there are no knock-offs because the price-point is appropriate… it actually costs that much to make and market the chair.  (by the way, check out the great series of Corvo photos on The Contemporist)

I think this is an important notion to consider.  If a knock-off can be made for much, MUCH less than what the “real” item is going for, either the materials and manufacturing in the knock-off are so shoddy that no one will buy the knock-off, or the “real” item is overpriced (shame on the design house/supplier).  Saarinen’s Womb Chair when purchased from Knoll is $3,500.  You can get a pretty good looking (I have no personal experience with the actual functional quality) knock-off for around $800.  Will it last as long as the Knoll?  Probably not, but the price difference between the two is SO VAST that it really makes you question Knoll’s price point, especially when you think about what the chair consists of… molded fiberglass with glued foam covered in fabric with four metal legs (should a chair of those materials really be pushing $4k?).

In this internet age, there is definitely a danger of people being tricked into buying something they think is similar to the original, when in fact it is nowhere near.  As such, I think it’s pretty safe to say that buying a knock-off sight-unseen is just asking for trouble.  If you’re going to buy a knock off… make sure you sit in it and touch it first.  The “shadiness” of people selling knock-offs proliferates in the online arena, and the issues become more about deceiving people than about people knowingly purchasing a lower quality item because they want the look and lower quality is all they can afford.

What’s even more shameful than the proliferation of knock-offs is the wildly expensive “high design” pieces which are notorious for being ludicrously low quality.  In these instances, the “high design costs more to make because of quality control and the materials used” argument is total b.s.  Take Roche Bobois for instance.  Their furniture is extremely expensive, considered “high end” modern (though I would say, in more instances it’s more “contemporary” than modern), and is most often total crap as far as build quality and longevity is involved.  I have a friend who’s family has been in the business of building, restoring, and reupholstering furniture for more than 100 years.  He turns red in the face and sweats with rage whenever he hears the name “Roche Bobois.” (“$10,000 for a couch that won’t last 10 years?!” –and yes, he’s not being hyperbolic, these things often cost more than $10k …and they are total crap)

So anyway, I don’t think a single Knoll Tulip side chair should cost $1,500.  Should I not be allowed to have one (let alone a set) in my house because I can’t spend an entire month’s mortgage on a single chair?  Should I buy a knock-off instead (in this case, I’d say “no!” but that’s mostly because the Tulip Chair knock offs are really poorly manufactured)?  Must I force myself to be happy with something else?  Who’s fault is it that a “normal” person can’t possibly afford a set of Knoll Tulip chairs?  Is it my fault that I want pretty things (even if I can’t afford the “real deal”)?  Lot’s of questions… and all the answers seem to be highly subjective.

…

We Commited a Carnal Sin (an "experiment" with knock-offs)

Shhh... don't tell anyone.

We bought a knock-off. Two, actually.

Now before you start sending me flaming hate mail, let me put forth my... erm, excuses.

We've been looking for a Saarinen Tulip table and chairs for the kitchen nook as long as we've lived in our sweet-ass, 1955 Colorado Ranch. A lot of our stuff we kind of get a general idea or feeling for, and then when we find a piece that fits the requirements, we snag it.

However, with the kitchen nook, we knew we wanted two Tulip Chairs and a 30" Tulip dining table (which it turns out they don't make), no questions. We would've settled for vintage Burke as well, but not the x-base. The "trumpet" pedestal was specifically what we were after.

We've been to the Knoll dealers, DWR and I've been culling E-bay and Craigslist for months. At one point, we almost "went for it" and bid on a huge, oval dining table and 12 chairs for the dining room instead of the nook. It actually would've been a great deal, but sanity kicked in and we held on to our $5,500 right before the auction ended (it really was a super-fantastic deal for an original Knoll set of that magnitude). A "re-sizable" table will be much better for our dining space though.

Anyway, over the search period, we scored an original Saarinen Tulip coffee table (Craigslist, $150: nicks on edges, mild scratches to the surface) and an original Tulip Table base that somebody desecrated with a can of spray paint (I'll be taking it to an auto finishing garage for a proper new coat of love).

However, it seemed impossible to find a good deal on two chairs. We actually found quite a few original captain's chairs (with the arms), but our nook area won't accommodate the extra size, not to mention I'm not a fan of how the arm chairs and swivel bases work with a table... too much arm/back curve to table edge bashing.

Now let me point something out: at DWR, a Saarinen Tulip side chair costs at least $1200.

For a freaking dining chair.

Your standard kitchen chair at Target or Ikea will run you around $40 to $150. I'm not saying a Saarinen Tulip chair is comparable to a Chinese-made, piece of bent steel with a poly-vinyl seat, but since this blog is called "Real Mod" and tries to address the issue of modern for people in a "realistic" (I'm not rich) situation, I am pointing out what "normal" people pay for a place to plant their backsides while eating.

Yes a high price tag insures all kinds of things... consistency going back 50 years, precision, quality, etc... but surely these things can be delivered for a more down to earth price.

During my E-bay searches, I'd been seeing the $150 Tulip knock-offs. Understand, I realize the problems with knock-offs: little to no quality control in the product, polluting the pool, imperfections, slight differences in lines and function, even the issue of sub-par items that will cause modern newbies to think the real-deal are not of good quality (because those people wouldn't know the difference between real and fake and thus think the real product was not good product, one of the very problems that this blog seeks to combat).

But two chairs for $374.98 delivered vs. nearly $3k? Argh. The dilemma.

Ultimately I didn't listen to Jimminy Cricket, and I went for it. I clicked buy and sent payment via PayPal.

After some problems with our Fed Ex guy (don't get me started), we finally received our chairs.

They were packaged unbelievably well, and it was like Xmas tearing apart the crate and removing the chairs. The seats were not attached to the base, so there was some assembly required, basically a rod that threaded into the seat and then ran through the base and affixed at the bottom by a bolt. There was a ball-bearing ring recessed in the top of the base that facilitated smooth rotation and everything seemed great.

They look fantastic. Great paint job, good looking cushion (more on that later), the shape and curves of the seat are right, and they feel just like the real thing when you're sitting in them. The only visual difference is that the base (the flared, trumpet part) has a bit of a falling cascade to the edge instead of really tapering out to almost flat like the actual Knoll (and even Burke) bases do (see comparison below). But for our purposes, I could forgive this slight design imperfection, and the average person was not going to be able to tell the difference.

correct base edge
(this is a knock-off; note the vinyl cushion -wtf?)


cascade base edge
(these are definitely knock-off, and the table base is actually quite bad -proportions are too thick)

Both my chairs look the same, but looking at the E-bay photos, it seems it would be fairly likely that you might receive two chairs that were not the same, especially in light of some of the other issues with my pair.

For instance:

One chair has a squarish cushion with rounded edges like a real Knoll cushion. The other chair, however, has a completely round, flying saucer shaped cushion that's not even close. Not a really big issue, as we can make new cushions easy enough (buying a "real" one from Knoll/DWR/Hive/etc. isn't really an option; see former post).

Second problem: the first chair I put together rotates very nicely. I was extremely pleased with how smooth it was. Again with the "however," though... the second chair grinds and stutters while rotating. It's quite annoying.

Third, after about two days of mild swiveling, the "nice glider" unscrewed itself. I tightened it back up, and it happened again. I added another nut for a locknut, but it still happens. So you have to tighten the chair every two days or so. At first it wasn't that big a deal, but after weeks of having to tighten the damn thing every couple of days, it's gotten really annoying.

So having gone through the whole ordeal, I have this to say: yeah $349 delivered is waaaaaaay better than $2,500 for two kitchen nook chairs. They look pretty darn good, and there are no nicks and scuffs like would come with vintage stuff. However, I probably should have kept looking for vintage until I found a real pair of Knoll or Burke and paid a little more, perhaps even ponied up for a good sand and automobile-finish with a beat up pair of vintage chairs.

So to recap...

I don't recommend knock-offs at all. I felt pretty strongly about this from the beginning, but after dipping into the fray, I now believe it even more firmly. If you decide you must buy a knock-off, realize there will almost certainly be inconsistencies from piece to piece (so getting a matching pair is really difficult), there will be slight to major differences between what you buy and the real deal, and there will likely be imperfections not only in the finish, but in the accessories and mechanics as well.


[April 22, 2008] To add to the "reasons against," I just noticed a crack in the base of one of the chairs (while I was doing the bi-daily tightening).

...

The Search for The Perfect Sofa

Recently we bought a new couch. We haven't decided if it's a temporary couch yet. The price we paid affords us the option of using it temporarily, but it's a really cool couch... and it's in perfect condition. I can only imagine that the previous owner was (thank god) one of those crazy ladies who kept the thing swaddled in plastic its entire life. I'm sure it sucked for her husband, but it's great for us. The couch (it's a sectional, actually) is over 40 years old, but it could easily pass as brand new.

We'd been looking for a new couch for about six months. I love the couch we had, but it's in dire need of reupholstering. The shape, design and quality are perfect, but the material is worn in a lot of places, the legs have become a little crooked, the front/center seat spring sags and it's definitely the wrong color for our new home. It's also covered in one of those durable, poly/wool combo materials that does last longer, but itches in the meanwhile, and eventually becomes brittle and falls apart.

Here's a bad photo, taken in our old house before we reupholstered the seat cushions. But note the piping on the seat back, the overall length and seat height, the buttons and the wide, sloping arms. I freaking love this couch.

So it was down to finding a reupholsterer that we could trust to execute the job up to our standards or find a new sofa. Not only that, but reupholstering also meant waiting for the job to be finished before we had something to sit on (turns out reupholstering doesn't always take longer, as you'll read later in the post).

Someday the green couch will be lovingly reupholstered and featured in my new office, but until then, it lives in the shed, awaiting its return to glory.

As a side note: after we decided to go with "new" or at least "new to us" and started looking around, someone in a mid-mod store we were in suggested having the reupholstering done by an auto-upholsterer. Think about the crazy upholstering you've seen guys put in a chopped and lowered '49 Mercury. Those people definitely know their piping and weird shapes. The guy who suggested this has had his auto-upholsterer do anything from a simple Knoll couch to the almost impossible Womb Chair (a "normal" upholsterer won't touch them -too many curves -too much gluing). I'll definitely be utilizing this advice at a later date.

So we started shopping. I'd been looking online for quite sometime (E-bay, design outlets, Craigslist, etc...), but the wife was extremely opposed to buying something from a picture without sitting on it... lounging on it... even napping on it. She is usually the voice of reason in our major purchases.

We often go to thrift and antique stores in our free time, but for the first time in our lives we also began hitting the retail places. Important features for the new couch were "boxy," straight lines, perhaps some piping and buttons (maybe), wide arms (extra seating for crowded soirees), and low and long. Florence Knoll and Kagan are good references.

Design Within Reach was an obvious starting point, but we were disappointed with the choices. Some of them were almost right based on requirements and looks, but all fell short... and most seemed really cheap, not in price by any means, but in quality. The Freja (right) was cool as far as the foundation goes, but we didn't like the giant, loose back cushions. Not only are they goofy looking, but I'm sure we'd've spent our days situating and fluffing them and eventually they'd lose their shape altogether and just look sad. The Theatre, Bottoni, Neo, Bantam, and Havana were all ones that we looked at. Actually, the Bantam and Havana came really close to meeting our needs, but still... they just felt poorly constructed and cheap.

So next we went to the shi-shi store where they only have like four things on the showroom floor. One of them happened to be on "clearance," a $12,000 white sofa (don't call it a couch) made from pampered Austrian cows. It had been marked down to $6,000. We actually pondered it. The quality was impeccable. I loved how the seat cushions were actually zippered to the base so they stayed in perfect place. The head rests were flush and boxy, but could be lifted on their pneumatic devices if you got too lazy to hold up your own damn head. It was definitely very boxy, but in a very, very sexy way.

Ultimately three things prevented us from buying this couch. 1. My wife is a vegetarian (vegequarian actually, she eats seafood), and though she thought the couch was unbelievably cool, she just couldn't justify not eating meat while sitting on meat's skin. 2. Even on clearance, it cost more than any vehicle we own. 3. The sales girl in the store was pretentious and shady (we asked if she knew where Room & Board was, and she said she'd never even heard of it --it's their direct competition and was only a block away! Please).

So we were on our way to Room & Board and passed Crate & Barrel. We kind of looked at each other with sort of a momentary and surprising "why not?" However, I cringed as I walked through the door into the poofy couches and came back to my senses. In all fairness, they had a pretty decent contender. The Rochelle sofa was almost perfect. Good lines, good construction, even a good color. The only thing we weren't wild about were the back cushions (free instead of fixed). Actually, the legs bugged me too, but those could have been swapped out easily enough. The Petrie, Cameron, and Camden weren't that bad either. But here came the kicker... most things Crate & Barrel has are on the floor or in a local warehouse and either go home with you or arrive at your place within a day for only sixty bucks ($60 for delivery?! That's awesome). The Rochelle, however, wasn't in the warehouse. Not only that, but there were none even near (we were told NY was the closest). Not only that, but there were none in existence in the color we wanted (San Marino, Charcoal). It was going to take at least six weeks to get the couch made and delivered. That had me back to reupholstering thoughts.

So we took the literature and samples and went across the street to Room & Board.

Andre is perfect. So very 1950's Hollywood with his clean, Eichler-esque lines, well placed buttons, and tight, firm planes. Sure his arms are a little thin, but then again, so are mine. Not only that, but his little club chair buddy to complete the seating area might be even cooler than he is!

When first we saw him, he was clad in camel-colored leather, weathered like a vintage saddle bag. Very cool looking and obviously durable, I loved how it held the lines and looked as it would for years to come, but again, my wife is a vegequarian, so leather wasn't going to work. Not to mention the slightly yellowish tan was definitely not going to work with our color palette. Luckily, Room & Board is quite accommodating with fabrics, and it was actually going to be cheaper to get the sofa in something else. We went through the fabrics and fell in love with Dawn Smoke, a soft Rayon/Polyester blend in a warm charcoal color. Andre had not been clad in cloth before, but as luck would have it, in three weeks the new spring floor plan was arriving, including Andre in cloth. We decided we'd wait and see how he looked in his new duds.

Four weeks later we strolled in, and there he was, eco-friendly and looking grand. I'd sworn that we weren't just going to plunk down the cash on our first visit, though. The sofa and chair combo were going to set us back more than three grand, so I wanted to be cautious and collected. They told us it would be six to eight weeks from the day we ordered to the day it arrived (again, my thoughts wandered to reupholstering our "perfect" couch), but I held my ground. I was sure we were going to buy the sofa, but I wanted to phone it in after sleeping on it (the thought, not the couch).

In retrospect, much as I loathe the idea of "fate," I think maybe fate had a hand in this scenario, for no sooner had we left the store and gone antiquing (just for kicks and relaxation) on Broadway than what beheld our eyes but a perfect mid-century sectional (which originally we thought we wanted) for, get this, $350.

It's got a robin's egg blue and grey floral pattern with just a touch of light green on an off white background: a little grandma-y, but only if your grandma was a Hollywood/Palm Springs hipster circa 1959. As I said before, it's in perfect condition, and the cool thing is that it will seat around seven with space for two more on the super wide arms!

We bought it thinking, even if we just had it temporarily, the cost justified giving us time to think and see what a sectional of that size (which as I mentioned we had previously been considering) would look like in our space. And now that it's there... we really like it.

And the whole "nobody has one of these" thing is actually pretty cool, an idea which I'll discuss in another post further down the road.

The High Price of Living Cool (replacement parts for high-end furniture)

Elitist pricing is just one of the many problems with modern design.

What is the point of making "design for the people" so inaccessible (other than to make sure certain classes can't afford it, thus making it not for the people)?

I understand the merits of pricing something so that attention can be given to detail and quality assurance (both extremely important), but this is just ridiculous.

A replacement cushion for a Knoll Saarinen Tulip chair is $265.

That's just for the cushion.

Just the cushion.

Just the...


The problem is you've got to have consistency. If your puppy decides to shake your Saarinen cushion like a polaroid picture, and the end result is a happy puppy but a sad cushion, you need to be able to replace said cushion and know that it will look exactly the same as the one made in 1957. It's going to cost more than a cushion from T.J. Maxx. Period. I think everyone can appreciate that.

But $265?!

That's the point when we do our best, find a good upholsterer and say, "Can you make me one of these?" (hand over puppy toy). It might not be exact, it might not be original, but you're gonna save yourself at least $165 and that's how most real humans need to function. Just make sure you pay attention to detail and don't end up with a round cushion on your Tulip.