Junior year of college, my roommate and I went without a couch for almost a year. We also subsisted on Kroger-brand frozen tortellini and pumpkin-spice Eggo waffles. We’d moved off campus, but we continued to live (and eat) like we were in the dorms. By my senior year, we had acquired both a couch, a dining table, and a foster dog. We still ate a lot of frozen tortellini, but we considered ourselves very grown up.
A few years later, as I prepared to move into my first solo apartment, I took the hunt for a couch very seriously. Buying my own couch would be proof that I really was a grown-up and not just playing house with my family’s hand-me-downs, so I wanted to find the perfect one. And I did, tucked in the corner of a consignment shop in Memphis. Deep and marshmallow-soft with cream-colored linen upholstery, it completed the space perfectly. Being an adult was going to be great.
That lasted about six months. No amount of my decorating could make up for the fact that the building was falling apart. I broke the lease and sold my perfect couch to move in with four girls from college and their ragged brown pleather sectional. I will grant that it served its purpose by fitting all of us comfortably, but it was decidedly not an adult’s couch.
I eventually moved to Philadelphia for a dream job and soon found a dream apartment. All I needed was a dream couch. I was all set for my grown-up life to begin on the day said couch was delivered, but although I’d measured the door frames (twice!), I hadn’t taken into account a sharp turn up the narrow staircase. I cried a little as I watched the delivery men load it back into the truck, feeling like I’d failed some crucial test. I may have moved to a new city where I didn’t know anyone for a good job that put my English degree to use, but a real adult would have known to measure that tricky angle.
Luckily, I was able to get most of my money back to put towards the couch-in-a-box that would follow me to my first place in New York. It was a good couch that I would wholeheartedly recommend if the brand (Campaign) still existed, but it always felt temporary. At some point in my mostly single and entirely childless twenties, I seem to have latched on to a piece of furniture as a way to gauge my progress in life, and this couch told me that I hadn’t quite made it.
Which brings me to the couch you’re all here for, so thanks for bearing with me. After many fruitless hours of searching for a loveseat that was both in stock and within an inch or two of 60”W x 32”D, I found it: the Burnett Loveseat from PB Teen. Better yet, it had storage hidden beneath the cushions. It may not have been exactly the couch I wanted, but it has been the couch I needed. Aesthetically, it works well with the rest of my pieces. The ivory tweed upholstery (no longer available) looks polished and has proven to be very durable. Its storage is indispensable.
However, this couch is not comfortable. The seat cushions are too flat, and the back/arm cushions are overstuffed. This is not a couch that invites you to snuggle in with a good book. This is a couch that might help you improve your posture. Since I most often describe my style as “cozy,” this is difficult for me to accept. To alleviate the situation, I remove the overstuffed back/arm cushions and replace them with the throw pillows from my bed to create a little nest. In my nest, I watch TV, eat dinner, write this, etc. Perhaps there’s a lesson there on learning to live with discomfort, but I’ll spare you that poorly thought out analogy.
And let us not forget that, although it looks like an adult on the outside, the Burnett Loveseat is from PB Teen. But isn’t that how most people feel? I’m 30 years old, support myself, and live alone in Manhattan, but I have a couch designed for a dorm room. I’ve accepted this couch as an embodiment of that fact that arrested development is an inescapable consequence of life in New York City. Everyone’s on their own timeline and all that. This couch certainly isn’t the one, but at least I measured it correctly! Plus, a lot of strangers on the internet said they liked it, so that has to count for something.
I realize this became a weird timeline of my life in couches, but I will leave you with this genuine piece of advice: don’t assume that you have to place your couch against a wall.* Don’t assume that you have to place any of your furniture against a wall. When people walk into my apartment for the first time (or tour it via TikTok), they most often comment on how well I use the space. And it’s as simple as that: I use the space. By putting my couch where I did, I managed to eke out a “bedroom,” a “living room,” and an “office” in one 10’ x 17’ area. I can’t offer a foolproof formula because every room is different, but think about how you need your space to work for you and plan accordingly. The best layout is the one that works for you and takes every square inch into account.
* See also: your couch does not have to face your TV.
this week’s read
Not a review or recommendation—just what I’m reading right now.