A year ago the reality of my lifestyle temporarily vacated my mind when I was giddy during the purchase of a white slip covered chair for my living room. Yes, WHITE. My love for white furniture was born around eight years ago when I discovered all things Rachel Ashwell, Shabby Chic.
For years our design style has been eclectic. Not necessarily by choice, but more grounded in pick up a piece of furniture here or there, with hopes that it all goes together. Most realistically speaking our first baby, a 100 pound black lab, forced me to suppress my growing desire for slip covered casual, hang out at my beach cottage, white furniture. Then the girls arrived and yet again, my dream furniture was put on the back burner. Right around when GL was a newborn, I couldn't pass this chair up. I wanted so desperately to have "grown up" furniture. I had hope that my home's aesthetic could mesh with life with small children.
Up until a couple of months ago, my white chair purchase was not a complete and total disaster. About once a month, I would give the slip cover a good washing and feel content about my purchase. Proving to those nay sayers that white is possible with children. Heck my mantra was even reduced to, what better color to bleach? More recently, after giving the chair a fresh wash, little tiny dirty hands would creep in just shy of twenty four hours to grace the white chair with some sort of stain. Sigh.
Fast forward to tonight. At around 6pm I discovered I do not have my mother's stain fighting genes. Damn it. I kid you not, rarely does a stain get past my mother. My three brother's grew up with the whitest socks on the baseball fields. Something brown, almost with the appearance of dried blood, has stained the cushion cover of my white chair. I can't quite place what the stain is, but let's just call it set in.
After scrubbing by hand and brush with the following in any and every combination, PreSpot (by the makers of Meleleuca), Spray N Wash with Resolve Power, Clorox Bleach Pen, Tide Free and Clear, Soft Scrub with Bleach, Joy dish soap, and good ol' Bleach. All of these products which I rarely use, sit stored in the back of my laundry room cabinets for when I need to fight stains with the big guns. Two cycles in my machine, the stain has been diminished, but to my heart pounding sadness it still exists. I can see it, it will fade some when it dries, but it stands out like a sore thumb to me.
Realistic next step, box up my cushion cover and mail it to my mother in New York, so she can unleash her stain fighting magic on it. Seriously what more could I possibly do? Any stain interventionists out there, please enlighten me, for my genetics are failing me.