It’s not easy trying to describe something that is unique on so many levels. NinjaChow and I would buy a dictionary or look on line for a thesaurus. Not Sparky, especially Sparky Geoff. He’s going to throw out all sorts of words and hope something sticks.
Sort of like the stains on the items for sale.
Vintage funky retro couches
Cleaning out my grandmothers house and these beauties have to go. They are unique, fun, and a total show stopper.
Need them gone this weekend.
Geoff
Do you think grandmother knows that Geoff is doing this? Thanks, NinjaChow, lovely stuff if we were doing a remake of the Addams Family.
Welcome To Fabulous Sparkyville 
Do people have a tendency to dump on you?
Does your group have more cavities than theirs?
Do all the hippies seem to get the jump on you?
Do you sleep alone when other sleep in pairs?
Well there’s no need to complain,
We’ll eliminate your pain.
We can neutralize your brain.
You’ll feel just fine
Now.
Buy a big bright green pleasure machine!
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One has to wonder if Spark knows that the original meaning of “funky” was to have a unique or odd aroma?
If not, c’est a vie; I suspect that the olfactory impact of these items is well within keeping of their hue ( and by hue, I mean tincture, not the former imperial capital of Indochina ).
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Hmmm, I wonder…
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I have to say, my eyes are watering just looking at the pictures.
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But they’re vintage, isn’t everything perfect when you call it vintage?
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Windy, I think Grandma is probably paying Sparky to haul the “vintage” sofas to the dump and he thought he’d try cashing in (or at least avoid the dump fees) by putting them on Craigslist.
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Grandma was a snake charmer, but she didn’t like sitting on the ground.
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Story time! About 12 years ago I was working in one of our delightful English cities, the lovely river port of Name-Withheld-For-Legal-Reasons, and was supervising a small but interesting trenching excavation in one of the, ahem, less salubrious parts of the city centre. You know, the sort of place where you check your trench for needles each morning. Anyhoo. The landowner had a building which we could use as our office/canteen, a former seamen’s chapel (stop sniggering at the back) which had latterly been a nightclub. Yes, that sort of nightclub. I believe lapdancing was rumoured. It was really quite unpleasant and I’ve drunk a lot of gin to try and rid myself of the memories of those banquette sofas but one look at these pictures and I’m right back there. Thank you. Thank you so very much. I’ll be crying myself to sleep tonight.
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