By the mid-18th century, cabriole legs were all the rage in European furniture—appearing in English, Dutch, and French styles, helped along by Louis XV—but they were first beloved by the ancients. Roman and Greek tripod tables, often used to present wine, featured lion’s paws and acanthus leaves at the knee—later signatures of the cabriole pegs of Queen Anne and Chippendale pieces.

Even at its simplest, without fluting, etching or carved flourishes, a plain cabriole is never boring. Its curve mimics a goat’s leg mid-prance—you don’t have to look hard to picture a mythological faun bounding through a meadow. The zoomorphic versions take it further, with details straight out of Dr. Seuss: hoof, paw, pad, claw-and-ball.

When it comes to a slim tapered leg, we may think unapologetically MCM. But the simplest cone-shaped taper, in wood or metal, dates back to ancient Egypt. You can spot its descendants from a mile away in late 18th- to early 19th-century American Hepplewhite and Shaker.

The Victorians loved tapered legs too, but by the time we get to 20th-century modernism, legs had become streamlined shapes and hairpin tapers—like those from Paul McCobb, and Edward Wormley (who also, incidentally, loved a soft cabriole leg).

The takeaway? Everything old is new again—or never left.