Fifty Shades of Acetone (a love story between a woman, her chairs, and too many pairs of gloves)

Paige Jordan
Dec 2, 2025
3 min read

The Stripping Begins

I guess it’s official — I’m a stripper now.

Not that kind.

The furniture kind. 😏

A while back, I found this set of mid-century modern chairs that had serious potential…they just needed a little love.

Set of mid-century modern dining chairs before refinishing, showing the original dark finish and dirty striped upholstery.

So I grabbed some acetone and a pile of hope.

Multiple pairs of gloves later — because apparently acetone eats through everything except my willpower — I was in too deep to turn back.

And let me just say: apparently Menards thinks all strippers are big, burly men with extra-large hands.

Who are these mythical strippers?

The ones who stride confidently through the lumber aisle, forearms lightly coated with sawdust, eyes smoldering with the quiet confidence of a man who’s stripped a thousand dining sets and still has energy for dessert.

I’d gladly let one of those men handle my…chairs. 😉

Stacks of lumber in a hardware store, representing the lack of an imaginary, broad-shouldered ‘furniture stripper’ I joked about while refinishing my mid-century chairs.

He’d roll up his sleeves, muscles flexing as he leans over the table, that hint of a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth — the kind that says he knows exactly what he’s doing. The scent of wood polish and trouble in the air.

Whew. Okay — I’ll save chapter seven of my debut novel for later.

Anyway — back to reality.

How did Menards decide “one size fits all” for stripping gloves was reasonable? Seriously, I’m 5'1" with the same size hands as my ten-year-old.

But by then, I was already committed — acetone in hand, dignity questionable, and a stack of chairs waiting for their glow-up.

And honestly?

Projects like this always remind me why I love helping people rethink the flow of their homes. A little shift here, a little stripping back there — suddenly the whole thing just feels better.

Now, if that little tease from Fifty Shades of Acetone wasn’t enough of a peek into my weird little mind… here’s the brain dump that happened as I scrubbed my heart out:

Stage One: Wild Optimism

You know that early-project confidence?

The “this won’t take long” lie we all tell ourselves?

Yeah. That.

Ugh, me and my great ideas.
I am so my mother’s daughter.
Why did I think this would go so much faster?

Stage Two: Immediate Regret

Right about when the fumes kick in.

I should’ve just polished the damn things and called it good.
They could be sitting around my table by now.
Why do I always underestimate my own bullshit?

Stage Three: Delusional Acceptance

This is that point in the project where you’re too far in to quit, too invested to hate it, and too stubborn to walk away.

So you just…keep going.

And before you know it — something starts to shift.

Okay, maybe this is worth it.
I am having so much fun (cue sarcasm).
Damn, these really are looking good.
Remember, you only paid $20 a chair — this is fine.

And my personal favorite:

I bet this would be more fun if dollar bills were being thrown at me. (I never did find out — hubby wasn’t willing to play.)

And you know what?

It was worth it.

The Revelation Underneath the Mess

Once I finished, the grain showed through beautifully — a mix of light and dark, every imperfection exposed and somehow more honest for it. I left some of that contrast on purpose.

Because that’s the thing about stripping back layers — whether it’s a piece of furniture or a space that’s stopped feeling like you — sometimes the beauty shows up when you stop trying to cover everything up.

You see what’s really there.

You make space for what actually works.

And you realize it’s not about starting over — it’s about revealing what’s been waiting underneath all along.

So, no, I have zero intentions of becoming a full-time stripper.

I am absolutely not cut out for that kind of work.

But these chairs?

These beautiful bitches were worth every damn glove.

Refinished mid-century modern dining chair with stripped wood frame and new textured green upholstery, photographed in a cozy home setting.

And sometimes, a space just needs the same treatment — a little stripping back, a little breathing room, and suddenly the flow makes sense again.

If Your Space Is Begging for a “Strip-Back,” Too…

You don’t need to take acetone to your living room (please don’t).

But if your home feels like it’s wearing too many layers — too much furniture, too many rules, too many outside opinions — I can help you strip it back to what actually works.