If you’re looking for information on the ones we owned previously, the console table argument ran for approximately two years. It didn’t get resolved, it just ceased to be. The day stopped mattering when the hallway flood happened and the table took the brunt instead of the skirting boards.
Pre-flood arguing went a little like this: Faction one wanted the table purely decorative, a home for a lamp and maybe one nicely intentional vase. You know, the kind of table you look at in a magazine and think “nice but who actually lives here?” Faction two had covered theirs in adverts, chewing gum (don’t ask), assorted mail and approximately four hundred takeaway menus despite none of us living here ordering takeaway food in years. Neither side would budge. Both were, let’s be real, slightly smug about their positions.
The flood happened because the washing machine decided to give up on life on a Tuesday morning.
Water everywhere, the console table being conveniently placed by the door took the brunt of it before anyone could do anything.
It’s white wood.
You can guess how distracting water damage photographs. Faction one lost their decorative masterpiece. Faction two lost their loyalty command station. Nobody won. The argument became pointless because we didn’t actually have a table left to argue over, making it probably the fairest way any disagreement has been resolved in this house.
The replacement we bought (and still, at time of writing, have) is pleasingly minimalist. It’s white. Because nobody ever listens. It has a drawer. Make of that what you will, but having a drawer means keys go IN the table rather than balanced on top of it. Revolutionary, I know, but apparently life truths that took us two massive arguments over consoles to learn.
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Living with one day to day is pretty much comes down to refusing to let anyone put more than one thing on the top surface. One lamp. One “home for keys” dish. And currently a small ceramic pumpkin that’s sat there since Halloween and will now remain until someone can face the pumpkin conversation. It is also, for some reason, the first thing anyone who enters our home looks at. It either sets the tone for a perfectly tidy house or we’re living in a skip depending on the day. No one can decide how tidy it should be -I fall into the team that wipes it down every day. Others find a receipt from March tucked under a candle and just leave it there as “proof”.
We also aren’t worried about the finish any more. Three water rings and a child with a crayon has learned us all that lesson pretty quickly.
TLDR?
Buy white if you LIKE white.
Don’t get it because it’ll photograph better.
It won’t. It will show every watermark ever, always. So if you’re cool with that. Buy it. If not… Well, you know. Our tits still aren’t entirely decided but the table lives on. Rinse, repeat. That’s my console table review.
