Designer Furniture Thrifting Diaries- Leolux Pallone Chair

Hey everyone! It's me again with a designer thrifting entry. So, I have a problem. It’s not a secret, and my long-suffering partner will confirm it with a weary sigh and a gesture towards our already-full apartment. 

I am a treasure-hunter, a devotee of the Hong Kong second-hand scene. My hunting grounds are the sidewalks on bulk-trash day and, my absolute favourite, the digital flea market that is Carousell.

For the uninitiated, Carousell is a beautiful, chaotic whirlwind of people selling everything from barely-used designer handbags to, I once saw, a single trapped lizard sold in a jar... and someone's used socks. You have to wade through a lot of junk, but sometimes, you strike gold. 

It all started with a late-night scroll, my thumb mindlessly flicking through listings for “vintage chairs.” And then I saw it. A photograph, slightly grainy, taken in a dimly lit storage unit. It was a sphere. A giant, white, cosmic puffball of a chair. My heart did a little flip. I knew exactly what it was. A Leolux Pallone armchair.

Now, for the non-chair-nerds, let me geek out for a second. The Leolux Pallone isn't just a chair; it’s an icon. It was specially designed in 1989 for the "House of the Future," and looking at its perfect spherical form, you can absolutely see why. It’s a personality, the kind of piece that doesn’t just sit in a room- it holds court. The seller’s description was perfect: “the perfect centrepiece for eccentric interiors.” I think my interior qualifies.

The seller originally wanted $500 HKD (£50) for it, which for a design icon made in the Netherlands is an absolute steal. But the real magic happened when I messaged him. He explained he was moving and needed it gone. The leather, he admitted, was “a bit cracked.” His next message was the stuff of my thrifting dreams: “Actually, I was just going to throw it out. If you can come get it this week, you can have it for free.”

Free. A free Leolux Pallone. I think I actually gasped! I immediately abandoned my cup of tea, told my partner I was “going on a rescue mission,” and practically flew out the door.

When I arrived, the chair was even more… present than I had imagined. I’d snagged the Leolux Pallone Armchair Ma, the medium size. It’s a beautiful, imposing object. But the seller wasn’t kidding about the leather. The two seat ‘zones’- the middle and outside panels you actually sit on- which, according to my frantic on-the-spot research, are only ever made in leather, were cracked, like a dried-up riverbed. It looked its age. But underneath the wear and tear, the structure was perfect. The leather shell was pristine and its structure was solid. 

Hauling this slightly sad-looking planet into my apartment was a logistical nightmare involving much grunting and a very confused taxi driver. But once it was in the centre of my living room, I just stood there, grinning like a fool. 

This was a piece from Leolux, a designer furniture brand that prides itself on “making sitting a pleasure” and creates “timeless products with a long life expectancy.” Their mission is all about craftsmanship, sustainability, and smart, high-quality construction. And here one of their creations was, minutes away from being discarded. 

I think this is the best part of the hunt: the redemption arc. This chair was designed for open-minded people with their own taste, and it was built to last. It felt wrong to let it die in a Hong Kong landfill. So, now the real project begins.

I knew I had to have it after I saw it on Carousell- the new ones are worth £1900! 

This is the ACTUAL chair I thrifted- it's cracked and damaged 

The plan is two-fold, and I’m ridiculously confident about both, which is probably a sign I’m in over my head. Phase one is a deep clean and minor leather repair. I’ve already armed myself with a arsenal of leather conditioners and fillers. I’m not expecting miracles—I know I can’t erase the cracks completely—but I think I can hydrate the leather and make it look loved rather than abandoned. It’s about giving it some dignity back.

Phase two, if the leather rescue mission proves futile, is the exciting part: reupholstery. This is where I get to put my own stamp on it. The Pallone is interesting because for the back sections, you can choose a fabric covering. In fact, there’s an exception to the leather-seat rule: you can have the entire thing, sphere and all, covered in a stretch fabric (I was thinking boucle, or something classy and white). How cool is that?

I’m already dreaming of possibilities. A deep, emerald green velvet to give it a decadent, galactic lounge feel? A bold, geometric print to really lean into its 80s futuristic roots? The potential is endless. I’ve found a few upholsterers in Central known for working on quirky pieces, and I’m ready to brave their sceptical stares with my translator app and a lot of hand gestures.

Thinking about reupholstering it with white fabric like this

I’m chronicling this entire journey, from its cracked and forlorn state to its (hopefully) glorious revival. There will be photos of me covered in leather conditioner, probably swatches of fabric taped haphazardly to the sphere, and likely a few frustrated rants. But I think that’s the whole point. Thrifting in Hong Kong isn’t just about finding a bargain; it’s about the story. It’s about giving a forgotten piece a second chance and adding a new, personal chapter to its history.

This ball chair was built for the future, and I’m making sure it has one. 

Stay tuned for the update!