Spanish Chair
(Børge Mogensen, 1958) Few pieces of furniture manage to feel both rugged and refined, and the Spanish Chair sits squarely in that rare overlap. Designed by Børge Mogensen in 1958, it embodies a kind of Nordic pragmatism that somehow reads as luxurious rather than utilitarian. Wide planks of solid wood. Thick saddle leather slung between them. Hardware that doesn’t try to hide. Everything honest, structural, and beautifully overbuilt.
Mogensen reportedly drew inspiration from the traditional chairs he encountered in Andalusia—heavy, low-slung seats with broad armrests meant to act almost like side tables. But his interpretation feels unmistakably Danish: reduced to essential geometry, resolved with precision, and elevated through craftsmanship. It’s a chair that looks like it could survive a lifetime of use, but also one that demands to be used—creased leather, patina, and all.
The proportions are intentional and slightly strange by contemporary standards. The seat is low and deep, insisting on a more relaxed posture. The arms are flat and generously wide, designed to hold a drink, a book, or even a momentary pause of the hand. The exposed buckle straps underneath—the element most people overlook—are responsible for the chair’s surprising comfort. As the leather softens, the suspension adjusts itself, creating a seat that becomes more accommodating as it ages.
Visually, the Spanish Chair has a kind of architectural presence. It reads like a small piece of timber construction: posts, beams, and tension. The leather acts as both enclosure and structure, not unlike a façade that also braces a building. Every connection is legible. Nothing is disguised. This clarity is part of its appeal in a design landscape often dominated by complex fabrication and invisible engineering.
Its resurgence in recent years—especially among younger designers and collectors—makes sense. It feels warm in an era of cold minimalism, handmade in a world of molded composites, and timeless without sliding into nostalgia. It’s an object that invites wear rather than resists it. Few chairs look better twenty years after they’re purchased; this is one of them.
In the end, the Spanish Chair succeeds not because it tries to be iconic, but because it attempts nothing more than being exactly what it is: a sturdy, generous, beautifully made place to sit. A reminder that the best design rarely announces itself. It just waits for you to take a seat.