The Herman Miller Aeron chair was generously given to me as a gift a few years back. Bulky and techy looking, it was slow to grow on me... i believe I compared it's transformer like appendages to those of a tarantula. I gave it back to the gift giver at one point, claiming it did not resonate with my naturally spare aesthetic. A few months later, my behind at odds with a naturally spare and agonizingly uncomfortable sorry excuse for a chair, I surreptitiously reclaimed The Aeron. It is clear to me now, there is more here than meets the eye.

I apologize to you, Aeron Chair, for ever doubting your taught techiness and arachnic functionality. My physiology would like to thank you for standing by and never judging the fickle tendencies an ever evolving aesthetic Goldilocks. A parting thought though: perhaps Mr. Miller, you would consider offering a florid pinkish version of The Aeron chair to the masses. It could be the Pepto Bismol of designer office chairs.
Nothing like a little chemical colored sugar to help the medicine go down. (Said with only the slightest hint of irony.)