My Grandmother’s home sat solidly within the slopes and slight undulations of the surrounding landscape. A split level, the house had a massing that was notably horizontal. The kitchen connected directly via screen door to her extensive garden and incorporated her garden’s summer colors: pumpkin-orange, paprika- red, sunflower-yellow. Rows of garden flowers created a sort-of floral labyrinth. Running along the foundation of the home, within easy reach of the screen door, were three large peppermint beds. As if intentionally punctuating the house’s horizontal orientation, the Peppermint plants climbed vertically. Saturday afternoons spent with my grandmother and my brothers would include simple, didactic tasks in her garden, one of which was picking peppermint for tea. Upon finishing our tasks, my brothers and I would come back into the house and relax in my grandfather’s favorite chair as we each enjoyed a glass of peppermint tea. As a child, and even today, I find these memories surprisingly immediate and soothing—the scent of the mint, the feeling of the leaves and sturdy stems in my fingers, and even the bright sunshine of languid days.My objective is to explore ideological, cultural and social ideas through the production of physical objects. The chair is a re-inscription of my own memories, and the most immediate aspects of these memories are stimulated by touch and smell. As a result, the design is informed by the the tactile qualities the boucle fabric and the smell of fresh peppermint.