Cork Flooring (revisited)

I previously posted on the topic of cork flooring, but having recently replaced several panels due to a popped compression fitting under the sink and a resulting lake in our kitchen, I feel like I have more knowledge on the topic now that could be very useful to others.

 

 

I installed floating cork flooring in our home (kitchen and entrance way) around five years ago.  For two years the flooring held up beautifully to our Doberman-Rottweiler and anything else that could be thrown at it.  However, when the Boxer-Pit became a member of the family, the flooring took a toll (photo below is to illustrate scratches; obviously the color is way off –though you can kind of get an idea of how much lighter the floor has become in sunlight).  The “look” of these floors is a very thin membrane over a cork substrate, thus, it’s not terribly difficult to mar the layer that gives the flooring its look.

At first I was really disappointed, but I now see this more as a failure on my part to maintain the proper finish on the floor (more on that issue below).  And to be fair, this is a 90 pound beast with CLAWS sliding across the floor chasing balls and running at the door when the bell rings.  The ONLY place the floor looks like this is in the entrance right in front of the door.  The kitchen still looks flawless.

The “click together” system is incredibly easy to install and is surprisingly stable. However, it has the same problems as any other floating floor system, i.e., it will warp when exposed to water.  When we had the water leak in the kitchen, about 10 panels that were exposed to standing water warped.  On top of that, the moisture trapped under the panels started growing mold.  I was able to remove two rows of the panels instead of having to replace the entire floor, so +1 for the click-together panel system.  This would have happened with any floating floor type system, so the problem was not really an issue of the cork.

As far as maintaining the floor, this stuff really is a miracle (I picked up this can at Lowe’s):

If used like a preventative measure (like waxing your car), your floor will last and last.  And it’s incredibly easy to put on (also like waxing your car).  After thoroughly cleaning the floor (anything you miss will be sealed in!), I use a rag and simply dip it in the can and then apply to the floor in a circular motion (again, like waxing a car).

The Varathane dries in about 10 minutes (I’m in Colorado, so the dry time may be longer if you’re in a more humid place), and then I go over it again.  Five coats takes less than two hours for a 200 sq. foot area, and the can will last forever.

Had I kept up with the Varathane as part of my “cleaning” regiment for the floor, I’m almost certain the scratches in the photo above would not have occurred.  This stuff is incredibly durable, and works great with cork flooring.

While our cork has definitely faded in sunlight, it’s an even fade and the floors still look great (barring the scratches which, again, I must take responsibility for).  There has been less fading in the kitchen where there is less sunlight (though it still gets its fair share of exposure).  If you look at the photo of the kitchen, you can see the floor is more the original shade under the table.  And then comparing the entrance, you can see how that area is even lighter than the kitchen.

All in all, I really love cork, and would put it toward the top of my list for flooring options.

Considering the issue we had with the burst pipe and standing water in the kitchen, I’m not sure it’s the most perfect floor covering in that room (I might try rubber next time?), but it’s fantastic for dropped plates (they bounce!), fatigue relief, and warmth.  Lots of people put all kinds of engineered flooring in a kitchen, which would all suffer the same problem we experienced with our cork and the leak, so again, it’s not really the cork’s fault, and that should be taken into consideration.

I wouldn’t recommend cork in bathrooms in households with children (tub splashing!), but I think it’s a great option for its warmth and comfort as long as you know it’s not going to be subject to standing water.

“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.

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The Holiday House Model “X” Geographic

I’ve always loved airstreams.  Who doesn’t?  But THIS.  Now THIS is a truly unique and incredible trailer.

Evidently there were only 5 ever made, and this is the only one still in existence.  In 1960, it had a sticker price of $8,495.  This was a time when you could purchase a decent house for $13,000.  America just wasn’t ready for luxury mobile living, so after a couple of years of trying to make a sale, the showroom closed in 1962, and this trailer was purchased for $5,000 by the showroom manager.  In 1995 she passed away, and her sister sold the trailer for a couple hundred dollars.

In 1999 a Los Angeles architect named Bardy Azadmard saw the trailer along side the road with “for sale” painted in the window.  The trailer was so rat infested that you couldn’t breathe inside and all the wiring and plumbing had been chewed to bits.  However, after nearly a decade of work and careful attention to detail, he brought the project back to life in all its original glory (from the teak cabinets to the original appliances).

The restoration cost around $20,000, and the trailer has since been sold (Sept. 2011) to a buyer in France and shipped over seas. The selling price?  Undisclosed, but Azadmard says it went for as much as you’d currently pay for a house!

The whole story, including the history of its design and production, scans from the original appliances, some scans from the original advertising campaign, available floor plans and options, information about the restoration project, information from the assembly line, etc. is available at this website: http://1960prototype.com.  The site is nothing flashy, so you may think you’re in the wrong place at first, but the information and photos are all there.

Midcentury Modern House Numbers

This topic has been on ongoing one as long as I’ve been a homeowner and interested in MCM.  House numbers, like so many other things marketed to a discerning audience, seem to cost an INSANE amount of money.

Unfortunately, our most recent address has 5 numbers!  At the low end of the house number price spectrum (around $20 a piece), this means I’ll be paying $100 in  house number hardware.

Design Within Reach carries “official” Neutra house numbers at $50 a piece.  Are you freaking kidding me? Bead-blasted extruded aluminum should cost nowhere near this much.

The best thing going for a while was Chiasso’s numbers clocking in at $18 a piece.

 

Here are a couple more from Atlas Home Wares that are at that price point.

This would be my choice:

http://www.atlashomewares.com/avhonu.html

But here’s a Googie option as well:

http://www.atlashomewares.com/methousnum.html

 

Surprisingly, Home Depot has established itself as the clear winner when it comes to affordable MCM house numbers.  When I discovered this information online, I had serious reservations.  Surely these would be “ok” but not “good.”  But after heading to the local HD, I found they are in fact quite acceptable, if not great.  They even come with posts for “float” mounting.

 

There seem to be a bunch of sites that are more “custom” in their ordering process, but you actually have to CALL the company, and the websites look like they were design around 1993.  That combined with the $20+ per number price tag makes me wonder if they ever sell a number.

If you’re feeling handy, here’s a little how to for making numbers for yourself (approx. $20 for four numbers… and if you go this route you could then have the “real” Neutra typeface).

Help Save (by creating) the Andrew Geller Archives

You know those crazy (crazy-awesome!) geometric beach houses from the 50’s and 60’s like the ones pictured below?  Well those were built by Andrew Geller, and currently his grandson, filmmaker Jake Gorst, is trying to raise funds to create an archive and shoot a documentary about Geller’s works.

You can find out more about the kickstarter project and donate to the cause at this link.

More information can be found at AndrewGeller.net.

Why I Think People are Scared of Modern Houses

[this is a re-posting of an entry I posted on another blog March 31, 2007]

 

We’re starting to look for a new house.

 

We are very excited about the prospect of getting into something modern. The modern that we’re looking at getting into will likely be something built in 1958 or thereabout, but modern has existed since the early 1900’s and continues to be built today.

 

In considering this, we often lament and puzzle over the fact that “100 years later” the vast majority of the world still hasn’t caught on. Why do people insist on living in beige, tract mcHouses? It’s not cost (if done right, modern is actually cheaper, especially when pre-fabrication, meaning elements built off-site, comes into play). It can’t be looks (do people really think the cut-glass in their Lowe’s front door is fancy, although I realize: to each his/her own…?). And modern houses are much more responsible when considering the world and those who live on it (passive heating and cooling, renewable resources, energy-efficient pre-fabricated components, money/energy saving technologies and responsible amounts of square footage are all inherent to modern architecture).

 

So I think it has to be fear. People are scared to live in a house that they don’t understand. People are afraid to leave “the house they grew up in.”  People think modern means uncomfortable, stark and cold. But I believe that is all because they’ve never had the chance to experience the joys of modern.

 

When I think of modern, I think of the word “poignant.” Things are done for a reason. And when something is beautiful and poignant, it’s so much more exciting than something that is only pretty (if even that). I admit that I’ve been in plenty of houses where the idea of “modern” has trumped functionality, but personally I think this is irresponsible of the architect (sorry Phillip Johnson and friends).

 

Don’t get me wrong; there are lots of modern houses that I think are extremely elegant, visual masterpieces even, but I sure as hell wouldn’t want to live in them. Where do I put my rake and shovel? my table saw? my piles of laundry? the pieces of my childhood (Star Wars figures, roller skates and the Animal muppet) with which I simply can’t bear to part?

 

Modern architecture is a matter of really understanding the person who will occupy the home. And maybe this is where Mr. Johnson is off the hook. He was building the house for himself. Perhaps there are people who don’t have/need stuff, and they can live in a glass house, but I sure as hell am not one of them. I think a lot, if not most, people feel the same way.

 

ps Phillip Johnson built himself a giant “barn” on the Glass House property, along with a bunch of other buildings, to house his “stuff.” I guess when you’re rich you don’t need rooms; you can have whole separate buildings.

 

I believe clutter (rather, the fact that it’s “not allowed”) is the biggest issue that scares people away from modern houses. There’s so much openness that requires responsibility which in turn translates to discomfort. Well, I say screw responsibility! There is an easy solution. Just make sure your modern house includes an abundance of storage space (under the stairs, in the basement, in the garage, behind the Noguchi screen, in the Herman Miller wall unit)! When it comes time to organize and clean up, you should be able to simply throw everything that’s “out” into a storage unit, hidden space, separate room, the closet, or bins. You can still have your clutter (which seems to instill comfort in a lot of humans), but it’s not out for all to see. You can have the best of both worlds! Order and chaos.

 

This idea plays into one of my favorite things about modern: there’s little to no wasted space. You maximize your dollar amount for your sq. footage. You don’t have to have a giant house (somebody please blow up all the mcMansions) to have a lot of space. It’s my addiction to Tetris at an “adult” level. It’s actually fun to figure out where to hide all of my junk, and still have the house look open, clean and uncluttered.

Thank god for Ikea closet systems and storage solutions, especially when you can hide even those solutions out of site (Storage systems in closets? How dreamy).

 

p.s. Another important notion concerning modern, and one I will perhaps elucidate upon later, is distinguishing between “modern” and simply “contemporary” or “now.” On top of that, the word “contemporary” has grown it’s own connotations over the years, inferring a sort of 80’s style (think deco-based (but bastardized), Miami Vice drug lord beach house). A lot of time the architectural objects that people refer to as “modern,” especially when wandering around Lowe’s and Home Depot, are what I would refer to as contemporary, actually more post-modern, and most often, in my opinion, “bad.” Modern and Contemporary are very different things. Joey’s porcelain greyhound and rain-window fountain reek of Contemporary (do NOT call them modern), and would both be smashed with hammers if brought anywhere near my modern house.  However, I would consider housing a Tiki bar or 1950’s ray gun collection (things often referred to as Googie or Lounge) –but that’ s another story and aesthetic in and of itself.

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