Stools Are Bullshit

Say no to stools
Say no to stools
Image: Shutterstock

You might want to sit down for this one. Unless, of course, the seat closest to you is a stool. In that case, stand with some dignity, because stools are bullshit.


I’m currently in the process of decorating a new apartment, my first time living sans-roommates in a very long time (please, hold your applause.) The process of living alone after rooming with a bunch of assholes is a cathartic one, but also one defined by the realization that you don’t actually own anything and you need to buy things. Stat. It’s led me down the ever-winding and ultimately expensive road of purchasing kitchen furniture, i.e., things to eat my luxurious baby food upon. It’s been an illuminating experience in just how challenging and mostly upsetting the entire furniture buying process is, especially when it comes to dining sets.

You’d think buying a table and placing some chairs around a flat surface would be a walk in the park, but it’s not. At some point in the 20th and 21st century, probably, some sociopathic designer decided all proper dining chairs would be backless and propelled into the air at obscene heights by thin tubes—sometimes, a single tube—of metal, or wood, or god forbid, plastic. Yes, stools are everywhere, apparently marketed for their “modern, sleek” appeal, but they suck. (You’d think we, as a society in 2018, would avoid doing anything originally introduced in Byzantium by the Varangian Guard prior to 600 A.D., but whatever.)

Listen, I know stools can be kinda cute. Do a quick google search. Adorable! This one looks like a macaron! It also costs, like, 100 Euro. Reeeeally think about that. If you were to buy a stool (confection-shaped and otherwise) what are you actually purchasing?

Illustration for article titled Stools Are Bullshit

Whose tiny tuchus would enjoy their morning coffee on one of these human torture devices? Who among us wakes up and thinks, “Yes, I’d love to start my week with some unnecessary lower back pain.” And what about those who’ve been described as “clumsy” or “uncoordinated,” or, perhaps by a past partner, “barely erect”? There’s no hope for us, you and I, and at some point we will fall off of a stool. If we don’t fall, we will continuously stumble, slip, and slide our knees into jagged table edges. We will be known for our shin bruises, and our friends will express concern.

You might be thinking, “You’re cynical, pal. I love stools! My mother was a stool, and her mother, and her mother’s mother...” Well, sheep of the hassock industry, I urge to consider other, much more comfortable seating options. Like a chair:

Together we can stop the madness, and leave stools where they belong—in bars, where alcohol numbs the pain.

URL: Senior Writer, Jezebel. IRL: Author of the very good book 'LARGER THAN LIFE: A History of Boy Bands from NKOTB to BTS,' out now.


I strongly fucking agree, thank you.

What I really hate is the “breakfast bar” that all apartments have these days instead of a place to put a table. No, a strip of counter that sticks out 3 inches from a hole in the kitchen wall is not a dining area.

You’re kind of obligated to get some stools to put there to make your place look finished, but nobody is going to want to actually sit there.

This stupid useless “breakfast bar” also invariably ruins one of the walls in the living room. I could put my TV against that wall, or the back of the couch, if only it weren’t for the breakfast bar.

Also, a 12 inch gap between the wall and the ceiling on one side of the room is not a window. Nobody is climbing out that thing in case of a fire. That windowless room is not a bedroom, it is a den with poor sound insulation.

I also see you people with your “one bedroom plus den” layouts that depict a second bed in the “den.”

And I see you people labeling the hallway between the living room and the kitchen a “dining room.” Yeah sure, I’ll mount a flip down table on the wall, and one of us can be trapped in the kitchen while we eat. That will work.