Oh, God - French Provincial!
That was one furniture style that midcentury kids remember very well, because it seemed to attract moms who were much more house-proud than average. If you went into a friend's house and saw French Provincial, you kind of knew right away to be very careful about making any kind of mess or causing any damage. <br
We had one Francophile mom on my street whose house never changed one iota the entire time I was growing up - every fold of every drapery was exact, every chatchke was placed Just So, every damask-covered chair had its own particular needlepoint pillow and every inch of fruitwood and antique-painted wood had been rubbed with Pledge until it glowed. In the dark. <br
My friend was named Rusty, and he liked motorcycles and bikes and fooling around with anything dirty or greasy. He shared a bedroom with his brother, and they had fruitwood French Provincial bunk beds with green damask spreads and matching curtains (walls were yellow-gold). You could have eaten off any floor in that house, and Rusty lived to get out of it and go someplace where he could make a glorious mess working on something.