2 hours ago
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Name: The laundry chair.
Age: Less than a week old.
Appearance: A bold new hybrid of wardrobe and chair.
I’m sorry, run this past me again. Do you have a pile of clothes that you’ve already worn but aren’t quite ready to wash? Do you need a place to keep them? Then let me introduce you to the all-singing, all-dancing, never-failing, always-amazing, positively life-altering laundry chair!
So, a chair you put your clothes on. Not just any chair! A fully-operatic, utterly infallible, singularly unrepeatable, epoch-defining, spine-blessing, gravity-defying, expectation-shattering, future-proof, legend-in-the-making triumph. But, also, yes, a chair you put your clothes on.
Sorry to break it to you, but these already exist. I’ve got one in my bedroom. But this cannot be. The laundry chair has only just been invented, by inventor and YouTube star Simone Giertz.
I just use a normal chair. But she’s launched a Kickstarter for it. It costs $1,100 (£820).
For a chair? I mean, it is admittedly a very clever chair. The problem with most laundry chairs is that, once they’ve been piled high with clothes, they are no longer functional as a chair.
But this one is? Yes indeed. The miracle of Giertz’s chair is that what look like a second set of armrests are in fact a rotating rail, effectively operating as a lazy Susan. You can drape your clothes over the rail, but then it cleanly swivels around to the back of the chair whenever you want to use the chair as a chair.
Has Giertz possibly been overthinking this? In fairness, this is her whole thing. She has spent four years trying to crack the problem of an expanding fruit bowl, even though the world hasn’t exactly been crying out for one.
Why? Clicks, probably. You should watch her videos. She’s great.
I suppose the laundry chair might catch on. That’s the spirit. And after that, the world is her oyster. Imagine if she made a type of kitchen sink that looks presentable when full of last night’s crockery. Or a drawer of chaos that can make a tangle of chargers, batteries, dead keys and old birthday candles somehow presentable. Or a fridge that can magically de-liquefy a month-old half-eaten bag of beansprouts.
That last one sounds oddly specific. We don’t need to get into that.
I mean, there is always an alternative option. What is it? Robotics? AI?
No, I mean, you could just learn how to clean up after yourself. Sacrilege. I’m going to order one of Giertz’s chairs right now. You know, once I’ve cleared a chair-sized space in the pile of clothes that permanently covers my floor.
Do say: “Finally, permission to leave your clothes lying around.”
Don’t say: “And coming soon for the more active customer: the laundry exercise bike.”
