The back is one broad panel of solid wood, opening upward like a fan and drawing inward at the waist, its chamfered top edge catching light along a thin bright line. At that waist sits a small bow-shaped pad in grey woven fabric, the only upholstered surface on the entire piece. The arms are one continuous run of polished chrome tube that sweeps forward, turns, and comes back to encircle the backrest from behind, leaving the wooden panel suspended inside a metal ring. Each end of the tube lands on a chrome collar capping the front legs, and the meeting of the two materials is left visible. The seat is carved from solid timber into a shallow saddle, with a row of long narrow slots cut through its centre for rhythm and air. Turned cabriole legs splay outward and finish in small pad feet borrowed from period cabinetmaking. Beneath a honey-red polish, the rippled figure of the grain reads across every face. Guena Marin declines to name its decade, and that is its strength.