Yes, it’s a bitch to clean. Yes, it traps every particle of dirt that wafts into the room. Yes, to almost everyone other than me and some equally damaged enthusiasts, it looks god awful.
But if I could carpet my whole house with it without that being grounds for divorce, I’d be doing it right now. It’s the feeling between the toes, top-tier. I can’t explain it - it’s not like I grew up with it - but there’s something about orange shag specifically that screams “comfy” to me.
You talking that weird orange with the bits of brown in it they used in the 70s?
You talking that high maintenance, orange brown shag?
You talking that deranged, I’ll never-have-to-clean-it-myself carpeting?
Best shit ever.
My best friend bought a house that was last redecorated in the 70s, and had been unoccupied (but maintained and cleaned regularly) since the early 80s. I loved that carpet so much. Eventually we pulled it up and redid her hardwood floors, but my God did I miss that carpet when it was gone
In my very last move with my parents, I almost got to have my dream room - wood paneling, old 70s orange-brown shag with pilling like a lawn in need of mowing, the works. I was staying behind in the old city a month longer than them, but I begged them to keep it exactly as is.
I moved in to find it was replaced with beige, boring carpet, with almost no pill to speak of. I was devastated.
“Lookin’ for a good shag with the missus, gov’ner?”
Me, with my wife in the carpet store “Please leave us alone, it was hard enough getting her to come”.
“But didja manage?”
“Hell yeah!”
And then we high five, I buy my carpet, and turn around only to notice both my wife and car are gone and never coming back. And I’m left to hump that shag down the road myself.
Orange. Shag. Carpet.
Yes, it’s a bitch to clean. Yes, it traps every particle of dirt that wafts into the room. Yes, to almost everyone other than me and some equally damaged enthusiasts, it looks god awful.
But if I could carpet my whole house with it without that being grounds for divorce, I’d be doing it right now. It’s the feeling between the toes, top-tier. I can’t explain it - it’s not like I grew up with it - but there’s something about orange shag specifically that screams “comfy” to me.
If not friend, why friend shaped?
He’ll kill you on sight just to take the first word in your username without the s.
You talking that weird orange with the bits of brown in it they used in the 70s?
You talking that high maintenance, orange brown shag?
You talking that deranged, I’ll never-have-to-clean-it-myself carpeting?
Best shit ever.
My best friend bought a house that was last redecorated in the 70s, and had been unoccupied (but maintained and cleaned regularly) since the early 80s. I loved that carpet so much. Eventually we pulled it up and redid her hardwood floors, but my God did I miss that carpet when it was gone
Awwww yeaahh…that’s the good shit.
In my very last move with my parents, I almost got to have my dream room - wood paneling, old 70s orange-brown shag with pilling like a lawn in need of mowing, the works. I was staying behind in the old city a month longer than them, but I begged them to keep it exactly as is.
I moved in to find it was replaced with beige, boring carpet, with almost no pill to speak of. I was devastated.
They did you dirty, my friend. I’m so sorry. I will observe a moment of silence for your loss
My kind of people 🤝
Love a good shag.
“Lookin’ for a good shag with the missus, gov’ner?”
Me, with my wife in the carpet store “Please leave us alone, it was hard enough getting her to come”.
“But didja manage?”
“Hell yeah!”
And then we high five, I buy my carpet, and turn around only to notice both my wife and car are gone and never coming back. And I’m left to hump that shag down the road myself.
[This was fun]
Your comments and posts are a great contribution to Lemmy :)