Maybe I expect too much.
It’s entirely possible. Just ask my husband. But when I see a chair in an upscale catalog billed as a “garden chair,” I assume it goes outside.
I ordered such a chair — wrought iron with a cane seat — and set it on my deck, where it rapidly rotted. The black iron rusted. The cane seat deteriorated. When anyone started to sit on it, I darted between person and chair to avoid a lawsuit. The person would look at me with legitimate wonder: Why on earth do you have a chair on your deck that people can’t sit in?
Any normal person — the kind who puts public safety ahead of appearances — would have scrapped or trashed the chair. But I liked its lines, and it filled a blank spot on the deck. Plus, every time I thought about tossing it, this small green voice inside said: “Don’t replace. Repair!”
My conscience eventually drove me to a patio store where the good salespeople addressed my problem by selling me a book on caning and some cane for $27.
Back home, I realized this project was over my head. I returned the dilapidated chair to the deck, where it sat all summer in ambush.
Then last week, as warm weather pulled its curtain for the season, I took the chair to Open Air Chair Repair, a Denver company that only does outdoor furniture repair, which shows you how often this stuff falls apart.
I showed the folks my chair. You could hear their tongues cluck in Canada. “That chair was never meant for the outdoors,” one worker said.
“But the catalog called it a garden chair!” I said with the naivete of Goldilocks.
Another worker was more blunt: “Outdoors, this cane stands as much chance as a declawed cat.”
Seriously? I hadn’t been this disillusioned since the last time I drove in snow and learned that the all-weather tires on my new car don’t grip. That afternoon, after my car skidded so far I found myself hanging from the rear-view mirror of the car in front of me, I went to the tire store. There the guy said with a completely straight face: “You have all-weather tires. You need snow tires.”
“But doesn’t ALL WEATHER include snow?” Is there something wrong with me? At first I thought this was just another hoax Coloradans play on California transplants.
Why can’t people just say some-weather tires, and indoor chairs? Like those fast- food joints — Fat Burger and Blimpies — they let you know straight up what’s going to happen if you eat there. I like that kind of full disclosure.
The folks at Open Air laid out my options. To recane the seat would take more than 100 hours, (at $20 per hour — Gulp!) and I couldn’t keep the chair outside. If I wanted a true outdoor chair (Yes!), my best option was to replace the seat with woven vinyl strapping for $65.
“When can we start?” I asked.
Marni Jameson is the author of “The House Always Wins” (Da Capo). Contact her through .
New life for an old (looking) chair
Want to refresh or weatherize an outdoor chair? Here’s a vinyl strapping primer from Bob Alderman, the most experienced outdoor furniture repair guy at Open Air Chair Repair.
Gather supplies: You’ll need vinyl strapping (available online in many colors and widths), an oven, clamps, a blow dryer and clippers.
Remove the old straps or cut out the old cane.
Refinish. If the chair’s frame is weather-worn, refinish it now rather than after it’s restrapped. To remove the rust on my iron chair, an outside company sandblasted it, then applied a powder coat. The new finish will last years outside.
Measure and cut. If you’re replacing straps that screw into hollow tubing, precut same- length straps. This is easier than relacing a chair, as I was doing. For that, measure out one long piece. Add a 15 percent fudge factor. If you’re short, you’ll be cussing midway through.
Heat. Preheat your oven to 300 degrees. Place pre-cut strips or the one long strip (wound in a tight coil) on a tray in the oven for 5 minutes, or until it’s pliable, but not melted.
Work fast. Weave or wrap following your pattern. Pull tight as you go, but not too hard or vinyl will snap. Secure with clamps if you’re weaving, or with screws if you’re securing into tubing. As the vinyl cools, use a blow dryer to make it pliable again.
Snip and seal. Tie off and clip loose ends, then seal with a vinyl protector like Son of a Gun, which gives vinyl a nice luster.
Or hire a pro. Though you can do this with a little patience, pros will do it for you. At Open Air, restrapping starts at $3.50 per strap. Check pricing at openair . Either way, new vinyl should hold up 15 years. And yes — that’s in all weather.
