Over the past week I’ve solicited suggestions for topics to cover here. It’s my version of taking requests. While I chew on those having to do with synchronicity, semantic infiltration and the origin of “draconian,” I thought I’d start off with an easier one.
Sue wrote: “How about writing a blog on the use of couch, sofa, divan?”
I don’t know precisely what Sue would like to know, but I have two initial observations. One is that, while the proper name for this piece of furniture is “sofa,” many people call it–correctly or incorrectly–a couch. My other reaction is that there appear to be so many other names for this object. Immediately I thought of about half a dozen.
So, Sue, jump in and take this conversation wherever you like. In the meantime, I’ll follow the two threads.
I was brought up to say “sofa,” which doesn’t make it right, but it also happens to be what furniture stores call it. They would know. I could be wrong, but I don’t believe you would ever enter a store—in person or online—and see something called a couch.
Isn’t “couch” is just a sloppy way to refer to a “sofa?”
I suspect “couch” comes from the French verb, coucher, or to lie down (I think that’s what it means; It could mean more, as in “Voulez vous coucher…”) When I hear “couch,” I envision someone lying, not sitting. A couch is where you spend a Sunday afternoon, watching football or, in my case, working the Sunday crossword under a fuzzy blanket for a committed period of time. Otherwise, with or without someone sitting on it, it’s a sofa.
What else could it be? As Sue points out, it could be a divan. I had an aunt and uncle who called theirs a divan, a term I thought was perhaps unique to their generation. Apparently,” divan” is Turkish in origin; how it got from Turkey to my aunt and uncle is unknown to me. If memory serves, these same relatives might also have called it a Davenport, which I understand was a brand name (like the Norge).
I understand Canadians call theirs a chesterfield.
As far as I know, chesterfields, divans, Davenports, couches and sofas are pretty much alike structurally. Then you get into your settees, love seats, fainting couches and futons.
I can speculate about how these variations came about, whether they are separated by generations, by regions or by structural properties. Better yet, The Word Detective explores this matter in much more detail, so let’s benefit from his research. If that doesn’t do it for you, there are many more blogs that delve into all the nuances.
Or you can consult this sofa and living room furniture glossary. Notice, nowhere in the glossary will you find “couch.”
Word Nymph 
Monica, you are a couchist!
There are groups to help you deal with this…
Sofa, so good!
Another…chaise lounge?
Sue, you got my pun! Chaise lounge…I think I’ll sit that one out.
Have you ever seen Six Degrees of Separation? There’s a great scene where Anthony Michael Hall’s character is coaching Will Smith’s character on how to pass as upper class. One of the first lessons is to say “sofa” rather than “couch.”
No, I haven’t, but it sounds like a movie I would like.
Aaw heck, you took the chesterfield right out of my mouth. I read breathlessly to the end so I could enter that one (these ones?) for Dee.
P.S. “these ones” is a private joke between Mom and Daught.
I was going to say ‘Davenport’ as well. I never understood where it came from, but it certainly separated the generations. Now I know.
This post made me feel proud of myself because I’d been taught to say “sofa” at a Russian school with English bias. 🙂
As children, there was an artificial sofa in the living room. We were never allowed to sit on that sofa.
My parents still refer to the largest piece of furniture in the living room as the “davenport.” In the process of looking for a “settee,” I learned that I could also buy a “studio” or “apartment-sized” sofa. Who knew?
http://www.homedit.com/what%E2%80%99s-the-difference-between-sofa-and-couch/