Mother’s Day Vanity

So my wife had a vanity bench that belonged to her mother. When her mother passed, she kept it and used it for over ten years. The bench top was even made by her grandmother, which made the piece even more special.

Over the years, the bench had definitely seen better days. I’d made multiple repairs to the legs, trying to keep them attached and functional—glue, nails, screws, bolts, extra bracing, you name it. Eventually, it reached the point where it was no longer repairable, and I gently told my wife it was time to let it go. But there was far too much sentimental value to just toss it.

So, I set out to rebuild it.

I began designing the new version to closely resemble the original. The old one had rounded legs and ornate side details. I don’t have a lathe, and I wouldn’t know where to start with fancy decoration, so I had to accept it wouldn’t be an exact replica. Instead, I went with a clean, modern twist—tapered legs (a first for me) and castle joints to improve the structural integrity, especially at the leg-to-frame connection, which had always been the failure point.

I kept the original cushion—handmade by her grandmother—so I sized the frame to match. I chose walnut for the wood: it’s solid, beautiful, and the color matched what she’d had for years. I settled on a 10-degree taper for the legs... which would come back to haunt me later.

This is where things got tricky. I did all the math to figure out the 10-degree cuts, taking into account how each face would be affected when tapering opposite sides. I even built a jig and was feeling pretty proud—especially since I don’t have any fancy Rockler equipment for this.

After cutting the tapers, I moved on to castle joints. More math, another jig. But that’s when the wrinkle hit: with the taper cut, the legs were no longer flat, making it nearly impossible to clamp them square to the jig. Enter the shim army. I had to carefully fill the gaps, clamp each leg just right, and then cut. Four legs, two sides per leg. It took time, patience, and a few choice words, but I got it done.

For the stretchers, I cut half-laps—straightforward work, made easier by my new bandsaw. I rounded over the legs to soften the edges, then moved on to dry fitting and sanding.

The castle joints weren’t quite as tight as I’d hoped (thanks again, taper timing), but walnut isn’t cheap, and there was no way I was starting over. So we rolled with it. Everything went together well. I did a basic glue-up, touched up the sanding, and finished it with Halcyon Clear. To attach the cushion, I used small L-brackets from Amazon.

The result? A brand-new vanity bench (photos) that honored the original—made from better materials, with stronger joinery, and a whole lot of heart. My wife was thrilled.

The big takeaway for me? Order of operations matters. I’ve gotten good at batching similar cuts to minimize tool setup time, but the tapering step threw a new wrench into the plan. I hadn’t fully thought through how it would affect the next steps.

So here’s the tip I’ll leave you with: When building anything, yes—have the right materials and plan your cuts to save time. But also think about how each cut will be made. Will a jig be involved? Does the piece need to sit flat? Will an earlier step affect your ability to make the next one?

The lesson was humbling, but the result was worth it. And now, that handmade cushion from her grandmother sits on a bench built just for it—hopefully strong enough to last another generation.