on my furniture guy.
That’s right — my furniture guy.
In L.A., like New York, you can get anything you want — as long as you find the right guy. Sewers — get the right guy. Electricity — get the right guy. Custom cabinets, earthquake proof picture hanging — get the right guy.
A few years ago, I wandered into a tiny crowded furniture shop. For a fraction of the cost of a buffet I had my eye on at Arhaus, I could get a similar buffet. I made a deal, and it was delivered to my house. It fit in perfectly.
A year later, I wanted a dresser and armoire for my bedroom. Anything from Pottery Barn or Restoration Hardware was going to set me back thousands of dollars — not to mention those huge delivery fees. So, I wandered back into my little furniture store and asked — could you make something like that.
Sure, Max said, and it was about a third of the Pottery Barn cost — with real wood, and whatever finish I wanted. The deal was struck and the furniture was great.
Then, a year later, my head was turned. I heard about Larry St. John in Carson. You could pick your furniture from the PB, RH, or ZGallerie catalog — and they’d knock it off for you — at half the cost.
So, I ordered an entertainment center for my family room. Larry, though, had some crazy rules. First, they only take cash, second, they offered no delivery, and third, the furniture was made in the southeast — and you’d get it when they got it. Max always lives up to his three week turn-around promise.
Got the entertainment center, six or eight weeks later, — and it’s good — but I wish I’d gone back to Max. The armoire he made for our bedroom, is really two pieces, cleverly disguised, which makes it much easier to move and maneuver. Our entertainment center is a bear to move around.
A few weeks ago, I needed a new dresser. (Don’t ask how my dresser got relegated to the guest room). A quick trip to Max, and the deal was struck. Three weeks later, he came here and delivered my dresser. On his way back down the stairs, my entertainment center caught his eye. While I came back from getting my checkbook, I found Max caressing my furniture.
"Not mine," he said, "but, that’s a nice finish."
I was caught.
