Sumo Omni Beanbag
Readers know I take in my share of review material for the Modern Pea Pod. It’s a cushy gig, I won’t lie. “Cushy,” though, only in the sense of unsolicited free stuff arriving frequently. That’s changed, though, with the arrival of the Sumo Omni beanbag.
What’s initially striking about this piece of furniture is its magnitude. Actually, its sheer volume remains striking even secondarily. Upon walking down the stairs to my apartment and seeing the four-and-a-half foot tall box waiting for me, I was filled with a glee altogether infrequent since, oh, the Christmas morning of my fifth year. It’s that good.
The fun didn’t stop once I got the Omni uncrated. This is not your playroom’s beanbag. Apart from its size, Sumo’s offering features a modern nylon material that retains its fresh, clean look very well indeed (you’d hardly know the “pure white” version has been sitting around my apartment as long as it has) yet retains a comfortable feel. Combine that with some sort of Canadian-engineered foam bits that noticeably outperform the domestic filling of my youth, and you’re talking about an eminently ploppable piece of furniture. Hey, when you’re reviewing a beanbag chair, this stuff matters.
And how. Half the fun of the Omni is just taking a calculated fall onto it. If this doesn’t produce a satisfactory lounging experience, get up and try it again. (As a side note, I’ve noticed that if you’re still able to force yourself to get up, it’s not as good as it could be). The beanbag’s size lends itself to endless reconfigurations: I have personally sat up, reclined, leaned back, watched a movie, read a book, listened to music, and reviewed this beanbag in this beanbag. All transformations quite easily carried out on the Sumo’s unbeatable, plop-based user interface.
What else can I say? If you’re reading this and sitting uncomfortably, you’re probably not sitting on an eighteen-pound beanbag. I’d recommend dealing with that at Sumo Lounge.