Before and after: modern country?

I, like everyone else, am enamored with gray right now. Though you will never, ever see a speck of yellow in my house to accompany said gray, as is the style this season. I will never have yellow walls, yellow knickknacks, yellow pillows, yellow anything.

I digress.

I've had these two antique chairs from my parents' house for years. When Chris moved in, he brought four dinning chairs, which were (A) two more than the antique chairs and (B) not all wobbly and creaky. The antique ones went outside for about a year, unused. I recently recovered the cushions, but they still look a bit country.

So I spray painted one of them glossy slate gray and bought some new cushion fabric. I likey.

Still a bit country (thanks, spindle legs), but maybe a bit updated? Though I suppose placing it next to a shabby chic hutch doesn't exactly scream "modern."

Before and After: Mirror, Mirror.

I've had my eye on this mirror at an antique/junk store. Antique/junk stores are my favorite kind of store. If you can see the potential in something that, on the surface, looks like outdated junk, the world is your oyster in one of these shops (and if you can overlook the near horder-like condition of most of these places--crammed to the gills with dusty odds and ends).

I couldn't decide on this mirror, so I told Chris about it. A round mirror with gilded gold frame of fleurs-de-lis and leaves. I could just picture it painted a glossy white and hanging in our bedroom. Two days later, he came home with an early anniversary gift me: a giant, 40-pound Victorian mirror with three panes and carved oak flowers. It was a completely thoughtful and generous gesture. And the wrong mirror. But so sweet! I resolved to find a way to incorporate this three-foot by four-foot behemoth in our house. In the meantime, we called the store and they told us we could bring it back and exchange it for the one I wanted, as they were the same price.

Before

 The mirror in its original state,
taped and papered in anticipation of the After.

After

I love the way it looks against the chocolate brown walls, 

despite the fact that I want to redo the entire room in gray.

The chair.

When Chris moved in last year, there was very little in his apartment that he brought with him. I had a fully (and cutely) furnished place, so there wasn't a need to bring much. There were the books, of course.

This is how our bedroom looks now, and this is just a sampling; the rest of our books 

are in the office and downstairs, tucked in every conceivable cranny.

And the chair. The one piece of furniture he was really attached to, the one that he bought at a vintage store because it spoke to him.

Spoke of '60s-era orange/saffron/brown colors, apparently. I was dubious.

Until I sat down in it. Mama mia, that is one comfortable chair. Like sitting in a cloud.

So we tried to make it blend in (because it's not going anywhere--we nearly got annulled over trying to get this thing up the stairs and through the tightest doorway ever, so this thing stays). Painted the walls blue. Tossed the orange pillows I got from former employees in Pakistan. A little hand-me-down foot stool. Make the chair look like it's there on purpose.

I've never been totally sold on how "intentional" it looks, other than when I see Chris retreat to it to read in the mornings, or on a Saturday afternoon. Then I know it belongs here. It's part of our house.