Founded in 1943, Ikea is the world’s largest furniture retailer. Ikea operates 351 stores in 43 countries. (iStock)
Good, bad. Bitter, sweet. Pleasure, pain. Love, hate.
These classic dichotomies most accurately describe my relationship with Ikea – the Scandinavian home furniture store known for ready-to-assemble designs and sleek modern style.
On one hand, I totally dig Ikea’s hip Euro-vibe and self-serve convenience. But on the other hand, for a person like me, whose home decorating style can best be described as Hand-Me-Down-Chic, walking into an Ikea is like crossing the threshold of hell.
The other day, I drove an hour north to meet a friend at the nearest Ikea. We became acquainted years ago when our military families were both stationed in Stuttgart, Germany. After we both moved to New England, we thought we’d meet for an afternoon of shopping and catching up.
As long as I’ve known her, my friend has been artistic, popular, stylish, opinionated and interesting. In other words, we don’t have much in common. But somehow, our mutual appreciation for tasteless humor created a common bond between us, and we’ve been friends ever since.
After a quick reunion in Parking Sector B, we followed signs to the main entrance. Despite the conspicuous lack of pitchforks and flesh-singeing heat – we were at the veritable threshold of hell, after all – we found the lobby to begin our shopping escapade.
The staircase led us to an unplanned lunch of Swedish meatballs and lingonberry soda in the ergonomically ingenious but coldly Scandinavian cafeteria. Then, we set out on the compulsory one-way path that would take us on a mandatory tour of every product in the vast store.
All I needed was a couple of area rugs and a lampshade, but I grabbed two of those annoying side-winding European carts, knowing full well that I would fall prey to Ikea’s marketing ploys and throw numerous gadgets and accessories into my carts.
My friend, conversely, was a trained interior designer with years of experience and a keen eye for home decorating style. She knew exactly what she wanted – two Expedit shelving units in high gloss pink, a pack of Fantastisk paper napkins in green, a pair of Lillerod curtain panels in turquoise, and a pack of Bevara potato chip clips (her husband’s only request.)
Despite her specific mission, she stopped at virtually every showroom, tempted by the irresistibly chic displays and reasonable prices.
“So whaddya think,” she asked me in the kitchen showroom, momentarily forgetting that I have no home decorating skills, “could I make this work as a kitchen island?”
“Sure, looks pretty good to me,” I responded truthfully.
And a few minutes later, amongst a dizzying array of textile patterns, she inquired, “Oooh – wouldn’t this pop against my new wall color?”
“Sure, looks pretty good to me,” I repeated.
And then, deep in the heart of the rug showroom, she queried, “Isn’t that a cool pattern on that flatwoven piece?”
“Sure, looks pretty good to me,” I redundantly offered, knowing full well that my friend just needed a sounding board, no matter how frumpy and unrefined.
Near the maze’s end, I wandered into a clearance area strewn with damaged furniture, overstocks and other tchotchkes at discounted prices. The reject in me loves a good “scratch and dent” sale, but I resisted the urge.
By the time my friend and I met up at the long checkout lines, where the Ikea marketers strategically bathe shoppers in the aroma of fresh baked cinnamon rolls to lure them to buy snacks for the ride home, we both had carts overflowing with products with Swedish names we found impossible to pronounce.
My friend’s cartful of items was carefully selected to add functional fashion to her elegant and hip home furnishings. While my cart was piled high with impulse buys and sale items, which may or may not complement my collection of hand-me-down furniture and thrift store finds.
Munching a cinnamon bun on drive home, I felt surprisingly content with my utter lack of home decorating prowess, and glad that my friend did not judge me for my ignorance. Despite our dissimilarities, we both understood that, when picking a rug, a couch, a coffee table or a friend; the best advice to follow is, “Vive le différence.”
Read more at themeatandpotatoesoflife.com and in Lisa’s book, “The Meat and Potatoes of Life: My True Lit Com.” Email: meatandpotatoesoflife@gmail.com
