Nearly everyone here agrees the tall dresser was the right call, the exception being whoever keeps insisting we should have bought two low ones instead and stacked them, an opinion nobody has managed to talk them out of in what is now three years.
It went into the corner of a room that was, at the time, being used to store a dismantled cot, four boxes marked “sort later” that never were, and one guitar nobody plays. It did not fix the room. Nothing was fixing that room. But it gave the chaos somewhere vertical to go instead of horizontal, and that, honestly, is most of what we were after. We measured the doorway before we measured anything else, which felt sensible right up until the delivery and turned out to be the only measurement that actually mattered.
Living with it has been less about the dresser and more about what people put in it, which tells you everything about the people and nothing about the furniture. Top two drawers are for things that get worn on purpose.
Bottom two are, by unspoken agreement, a crime scene. Somebody’s teenager uses the very top drawer to hide sweet wrappers, which we only know because the smell gives it away every August. The handles have gone slightly loose on one side from being used as a step by someone under four feet tall who should absolutely know better, and does know better, and does it anyway.
It looks good, we will say that plainly.
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Tall means it does the job of a wardrobe without eating the wardrobe’s floor space, which in a small room is the difference between the room working and the room not working. In an ordinary, lived in room, with washing on a chair and a phone charger trailing across the floor, it is somehow the one thing that still looks like it was put there on purpose. That is not nothing.
The runners are metal, not plastic, and we mention that once and will not mention it again, mostly because the person who bought the plastic runner version first still winces when it comes up.
Where we are now is fairly settled, drawers included. It gets used properly, meaning badly, meaning constantly. Someone leans on it to pull socks on in the morning and it has never once complained. It has taken a scooter to the corner, a toddler’s felt tip up one side that came off with actual effort, and being climbed like furniture is not supposed to be climbed, and it is still standing there looking, frankly, better than we deserve.
The two low ones stacked argument still comes up at dinner sometimes. We let it. It’s wrong, but it’s committed, and honestly that’s most of what keeps this account interesting.
