Growing up in the ’70s, we had poufs in our living room – of course we did. I remember at least two of them very clearly. One was covered in bright red faux leather, with tassels on each corner and – brace yourself – gold Cleopatra figures all the way around. (No comments, please.) The other one came from Spain, checkered in brown and black, also probably faux leather, with a huge ranch-style brand stamped right on top.
They were just… always there. Part of the furniture in every sense. So when I eventually moved out, I took the red one with me. Not because it was particularly stylish (let’s be honest), but because it was practical. And, well, no one else seemed to want it anyway.
Fast forward to the ’90s: I decided to have an old sofa reupholstered and thought it would be a brilliant idea to have the Cleopatra pouf done in the same fabric. The upholsterer held it at arm’s length, gave me that look, and clearly had his doubts. But to his credit, he went along with it. And you know what? The sofa and the pouf actually looked great together.
Unfortunately, looks aren’t everything. Not long after, the sofa ended up back at my parents’ house. It was just too uncomfortable – too high, somehow awkward, and definitely not made for everyday lounging.
Can you imagine kids slouched on that sofa, or anyone curling up to watch a movie? Not really.
The pouf, on the other hand, was a completely different story. I used it all the time. I sat on it, put my feet up, balanced trays on it—basically, it did whatever I needed it to do. And after about 17 years of that kind of loyal service, it definitely showed. The top was cracked, the fabric badly worn, the colors faded. It had seen better days.
These days, casually having furniture reupholstered isn’t really my thing anymore (possibly because all my money disappears into yarn… just a guess). So instead, I decided to take matters into my own hands and re-cover the pouf myself. And that’s exactly what I did!
Over the years, the photos that used to be here got lost – thanks to a total blog crash, a stolen hard drive, and whatever else can possibly happen to images along the way. The same goes for the link to the pattern – it seems the instructions have disappeared from the web as well. If I happen to come across either of them again, I’ll be sure to add them back in. Thanks so much for your understanding.
One square and four rectangles, joint with slip stitches, and a (mindless) pattern, consisting of four different rows (dc, nothing else) that I would be willing to translate and post upon request.
The trick was doing it from the outside toward the inside. Not in rounds like usual. More like an LP record playing, spiraling in toward the center. For anyone who never handled vinyl: yes, that kind of record. Once I figured that out, everything fell into place. The swimmer. The tire. The whole summer scene.