An American abroad, aloft on a blue crushed velvet lounger.

Though I could generally do without Brocade Home and their overwrought ways, there's something about this chair that appeals to me. I'd like to lounge upon it, poolside, in a cool English or Italian early fall, with a slight wind blowing, and a general air of lackadaisical laziness prevailing. Bernardo Bertolucci, at nearly 29, I am still in the throes of your Stealing Beauty.