A beach in Naples, Italy. Brent Lloyd via Saigoneer.

Martin Kaloshi

Science and Environment Editor

• Coca-Cola, Michael Jackson, Ronaldo, that one white plastic chair.

I crafted this list of reminders myself (very proudly, I must add) upon hearing that humanity needed a quick rescue. There you go, humans. No one tell me we live in divided times ever again. Because sure, we might be waging wars on each other every other week now, or getting out of hand on TikTok comment sections about whether we should or shouldn’t care less that Justin Bieber is feeling nostalgic, but as long as we have Coca-Cola, Michael Jackson, Ronaldo, and that one white plastic chair, we’re probably going to get through it. 

My rationale with this lineup was: universally recognisable, able-to-unite-us-all stuff. Of course, each item is wonderful and deserving of an article in its own right, but secret recipes are anticlimactic, Michael Jackson has been dead for some time now, and I’ll leave it to someone sportier to discuss Ronaldo. So, that leaves one behemoth humanitarian loved by all including Bad Bunny: that one white plastic chair.

It’s impossible to meet someone who doesn’t recognise the modelled piece of plastic. A guy in Baghdad got his hair cut on it last week. A Nonna in Napoli shared on it the hottest gossip ever heard last night. The Monobloc is our most successful piece of furniture to date, and with good reason: it’s affordable, durable, and pretty revolutionary.

As the name Monobloc suggests, the chair is made of one single piece of polypropylene, the thermoplastic polymer that food containers and bottle caps are also made of. It gets heated to 220 °C before being injected into a single metal mold. In just over a minute, the polypropylene cools to reveal the Monobloc. 

According to Domus magazine, we have the 60s to thank for the idea of sitting on one-piece plastic. In 1960, Danish designer Verner Panton created the Panton Chair: the stackable design icon that unfortunately – due to its polyester-reinforced fibreglass composition – was too costly to be mass marketable. 1972 saw French designer Henry Massonet’s Fauteuil 300 hit the markets. With a production time of under two minutes and a very practical shell, the chair paved the way for new Monobloc models, like French company Grossfillex’s Resin Garden Chair, released eleven years later (note how all list items, save for Ronaldo, peaked in the 80s). This rendition was comfortable, weatherproof, lightweight, and cheap enough to produce – three euros, according to Elle Decor Italy – to set the chair out on its world domination.

Still, Monobloc, though familiar to everyone, is not loved by everyone. Critics say the chair strips away the cultural context that makes goods unique, on top of being ugly and plastic (thus non-biodegradable). To these anti-globalisation environmentalists I say: I’ll sit on it. But I’d add that coke and Michael Jackson are also very globalised phenomena, and that Ronaldo probably owns a fossil fuel-spewing private jet somewhere, and these still made my list of world saviours. Pivotal and surely not filthy, therefore, is the chair.

Calling the Monobloc filthy would also mean overlooking the awesome, different uses it has increasingly been taking on. In some African countries, the Monobloc is being turned into makeshift wheelchairs to lower costs for those who need more mobility, as Saigoneer notes. The chair has also struck the attention of artists like Bert Loeschner, who reheats and remolds Monobloc into unique sculptures. You couldn’t do that without some tackiness.

And while it is the same chair everywhere, the memories it evokes needn’t be. For me, it’s cheffing up sugar water at the lakeside lokal in Albania, informing my grandpa about my second-grade shenanigans and that the capital of Morocco is Rabat, assuring him this is the reason why his crossword is suggesting a double-A for three across. After, it’s ripping the plastic tablecloth with the cousins and collecting the shreds until the waiter notices. When the waiter does notice, it’s tossing away the evidence and sitting straight, hands stoically on the armrests, determined to divert all attention from the crime.

You have your own Monobloc memories, I’m sure. But I can almost say for certain that we’ve both drunk a Coca-Cola on one at our local bar, perhaps with Michael Jackson blasting in the corner and Ronaldo playing on the TV screen before us. 

We forget sometimes, I think, just how much we all have in common. Particularly in the way of tacky, globalised, plastic things. Maybe let them be the glue sometimes.