I know a lot of you trendy parents out there with your Bugaboos, Oeuf beds, Netto changing tables, and duc duc dressers have been bemoaning the fact that there wasn't a high chair available that was well suited for your modern aesthetic. Sure, there was the Mozze Nest chair but it always seemed a little too Jetsons for you. Well, worry no more, my design concious friends. As always, Phillipe Starck has come to the rescue.
The French designer, who may be the most famous and prolific designer alive, has always expressed his desire for transgretion and challenge. His aesthetic and cultural background has allowed him to change not only how we view design but also our lamps, door handles, cutlery, kettles, vases, clocks, scooters, motorcycles, desks, beds, taps, hotels, toothbrushes, baths, toilets… in short, our whole life!
Add a $200 MacLaren-built high chair and it's clear that Mr. Starck's plans for world domination are coming to fruition. As usual, the chair is impeccably designed. It has a sleek appearance and even collapses when not in use. However, I'm questioning whether Mr. Starck has any children himself. Why? Because the only color available is WHITE!
And as I was telling my wife last night, I think the next high chair we purchase should be the color of ketchup and mac-and-cheese.
About MetroDad
I'm a French-named, speed-reading, former public policy analyst now trapped in the body of a Asian-American fashion executive. I've ridden elephants in Sri Lanka, imbibed snake venom in China, skiied the Italian Dolomites, eaten barbecue in Pakistan, travelled to every state except North Dakota, visited 28 out of 32 major league ballparks, worshipped at the altar of Graceland 5 times and have shut down most of the nightclubs in Paris. That being said, I still get lost every time I go through the Lincoln Tunnel.
It's safe to say that we'd probably get along if you can truly appreciate the real beauty in...a good Peking duck, Sunday's NYT crossword, nice manners, Scrabble, Law & Order, spontaneous travel, Otoro, Jim Jarmusch, Tabasco sauce, Morrissey, Haruki Murakami, Peets coffee, Radiohead, listening to baseball games on the radio, Thievery Corporation, X-Men comics, fresh powder, Southern BBQ, Christopher Hitchens, bloomin' onions, mid-century design, the warmth of a good scotch, a great day spent fishing where you didn't catch a damn thing...
On a related note, I'd like to believe that I probably have absolutely nothing in common with another human being who really loves any of the following: pro bass fishing on tv, NASCAR, low carb Cabernet, Kathey Griffin, Microsoft, the Olsens, Applebees, Jessica Simpson, romance novels, tofu bacon, Pamela Anderson, ballet, "Survivor" or HUMMERs. Similarly, I could also never be friends with someone who mixes up "they're", "there", and "their". I will give you a smidge of credit if you know the difference between "if" and "whether". But if you leave any participles dangling, we're breaking up.
In conclusion, let me just say...
Lex clavatoris designati rescindenda est.
(The Designater Hitter Rule has got to go)
