Introduction
—A love letter to the urban free spirit
- First it is a coffee table; soon it becomes the stage of life
At first sight, the Rio Coffee Table is a quiet, luminous comma, pausing the long sentence of your living room before gently continuing the story. The warm grain of North-American ash flows like Copacabana at dawn; the cool gleam of stainless steel recalls Atlantic waves under night lights. Warmth and chill collide, yet never clash—color-blocking gives rhythm to the eye, solid wood gives temperature to the touch. It stands without a word, already leading the dance of the space.
- Rise and fall: let mood decide the height
Press the gas-lift lever and Rio begins to breathe:
- Down to 28 cm, it sinks into the rug—chips, remotes, cat-paw mugs all within lazy reach; binge-mode on.
- Up to 66 cm, flush with sofa arms—laptop, coffee, take-away boxes—an instant workstation or midnight dining table.
The 12-centimetre travel is the perfect 30° incline between “horizontal” and “upright,” the shortest deep breath between workday and weekend.
- A 90° flip: a gentle sleight of hand
Lift the top, nudge it right—click. Surface area doubles.
Suddenly the table is a children’s drawing board, a dessert counter for best friends, an emergency desk for 2 a.m. deadlines.
Locked at 66 cm, the height was measured across 30 sofa profiles and crowned “golden fit”; whether you lounge on a low Japanese sofa or a tall Italian leather one, it nestles in perfect alliance.
- Materials you can see the honesty in
- North-American ash edge banding: grain like wind-creased sails; fingers feel the subtle ridges, warmth coaxing sunlight from the pores.
- Multi-ply solid-wood top, zero-formaldehyde, no paint—only the faint scent of natural wood wax greets you on arrival.
- 201 stainless-steel frame: mirror-polished, fingerprints wipe away in a single pass; 2 mm wall thickness carries 80 kg without a tremor, even when the cat stages a rooftop concert.
- Footnotes to ordinary days that refuse to be ordinary
7:30 a.m.—breakfast tray for one flat white and two slices of toast; sunlight slips through the grain and projects “today will be ok” onto the floor.
3:00 p.m.—a Switch battlefield where Mario hops across the tabletop, controller vibrations humming down the steel legs to your fingertips.
11:45 p.m.—late-night canteen; steam from an instant-noodle bowl condenses on stainless-steel legs like unspoken fatigue.
Rio remembers: home is simply a careful collection of such small, glittering moments.
Epilogue
When the lights go out and the living room slips into deep indigo, Rio still glimmers—an elf folding its wings, waiting to be needed again.
It does not ask for praise; it only wants you to know:
Life can be complicated, or as simple as a table that rises, flips, and understands you.
