How the sheepskin chair became a symbol of softness after crisis
When you picture a sheepskin chair, you might think of warmth, softness, and visual comfort. But this chair holds more than aesthetic value. It carries memory.
After World War II, European homes were rebuilt not only with bricks but with touch. Designers turned away from cold metal and hard edges and embraced softness. The sheepskin chair emerged as part of that shift. It was a tactile answer to emotional needs.
And now, nearly a century later, in a world once again marked by uncertainty and unrest, this material still speaks.
The sheepskin chair shows us that comfort isn’t a luxury it’s a response.
If you’re curious to experience this iconic shape yourself: here are the clam chairs available.
Softness as survival
In postwar interiors, comfort became more than function. It became an emotional refuge. The sheepskin chair answered that need with warmth, texture, and a low, welcoming shape.
Rather than polished perfection, it offered presence. The natural wool retained its irregularities. It wasn’t trying to hide the past it helped people live with it.
This connection between comfort and materiality still matters today. Design classics of tomorrow are shaped by the materials we choose today.
Tactility as language
Sheepskin is not a neutral fabric. It’s unruly. It has a life of its own. And that’s exactly why it resonated so strongly after the war and continues to do so now.
It reminds us of animals, warmth, nature. It grounds us in the physical world at a time when everything else feels abstract.
Today’s interiors are shaped by similar instincts. As the digital world expands, the desire for tactile, grounded materials grows. A sheepskin chair invites the body to rest. It’s not performative. It’s present.
From vintage knowledge to new design
Before designing my own lounge chair, I ran a business called Mariekke Vintage, specialising in high-end vintage furniture. I spent years sourcing, restoring and selling rare design pieces everything from Bauhaus armchairs to Italian postmodern sofas.
Among those pieces, one chair stayed with me more than the rest: the clam chair. I owned an original. I lived with it. And I studied it up close.
There’s something visceral about vintage design. The weight of it. The patina. The way the legs meet the frame. When you’ve handled hundreds of chairs from different eras, your hands begin to recognise proportions before your eyes do.
The clam chair was different. It didn’t shout for attention. But once you sat in it, you understood its power. It held you without effort. The sheepskin wasn’t decorative. It was essential. It invited softness without collapsing into it.
But vintage also taught me something else: time leaves marks. Many of the beautiful chairs I sold had foam interiors that had disintegrated. Cushions that sagged. Fabrics that couldn’t be restored. Even the clam chair had its weaknesses: outdated construction techniques, unsustainable materials, limited ergonomics by today’s standards.
So when I began designing my own chair, I didn’t want to replicate what was. I wanted to respond to it.
The chair I make today is built on everything I learned in those years. It borrows the soul of the vintage classics, but rethinks the structure. It uses Dutch wool, not foam. It’s completely frameless, yet provides natural resistance. It’s soft, but not shapeless.
Where the clam chair spoke to a postwar longing for softness, my design speaks to something we urgently need today: circular comfort. Materials that honour the past, but don’t compromise the future.
Design evolves when we listen. To materials. To history. To how people live now.
Some designs deserve to be remembered. The clam chair will always be one of them. But it also gave me something else: a starting point.
Comfort without compromise
In our own work, we look to the sheepskin chair not to replicate it, but to understand it. What made it timeless wasn’t the shape. It was the honesty.
We take that same approach with Dutch wool. Every chair we design is frameless, filled with layered wool, and built for support without plastic foams. The result is a seat that adapts to the body without losing structure. A comfort that isn’t temporary.
Memory as material
What makes the sheepskin chair iconic isn’t just how it feels but what it remembers. It comes from a specific time, a specific need.
It wasn’t mass-produced luxury. It was tactile care. A chair that responded to crisis with softness. That legacy matters. Especially now.
When you choose a material like wool or sheepskin, you’re not just choosing a style. You’re choosing a position. One that values comfort, nature, and continuity.
In a market flooded with synthetic softness, the sheepskin chair reminds us what real softness is made of.
FAQ
Why was sheepskin used in postwar furniture?
After the war, people longed for warmth and emotional comfort. Sheepskin offered softness, breathability, and a natural, comforting texture.
What makes a sheepskin chair different from a regular lounge chair?
Sheepskin chairs offer a tactile, grounding experience. The texture of the wool is irregular and rich, unlike synthetic fabrics that often feel flat and uniform.
Is sheepskin still a sustainable choice?
Yes, when sourced from by-products of the meat industry or from circular suppliers. It’s a long-lasting material that biodegrades over time and requires minimal processing compared to plastics.
What are modern alternatives to sheepskin?
High-quality wool, such as locally sourced Dutch wool, can offer similar softness with a circular footprint. We use it in our lounge chairs for comfort without compromise.