Thomas went to Ikea and imagined himself in Disney. What had he come for?
Which of the Swedish furniture giants is your favourite? Yes, mine too. We were only going to look at a mini kitchen for Mrs Van Luyn’s office. Really, just run through the kitchens, go, in and out. How long can that take? Well, an hour or two, I know from experience. There is a whole science behind how, despite your intentions, they keep you in the business as long as possible and show you as much as possible. There are shortcuts, but only the advanced Ikea-goer can spot them, and even then you don’t use them. Everyone in the Amusement Park der Burgerdromen can be guided past all the attractions. Wandering sheep are gently helped back into the herd by a chair or footstool placed on their wrong track.
I too let myself go with the flow with love. Although, love, maybe melancholy is a better word, because I get knots and knots in my stomach from all those lives I could have led when I see all those little paradises of happiness, designed by incredibly skilled designers. What’s the secret? The missing ceilings? Smart lighting? If I decorated my house exactly like here, with exactly the same stuff, it would still look like faded cheap mass production.
Here, however, everything radiates hope, and small happiness. For me then. Ikea haters can get depressed or angry because they don’t want to face their imperfections, their inability that becomes poignantly palpable in this perfect world. Those people don’t like Disney either.
Rather, I experience ‘aspiration’ – that which I would like to be. A nicer father, a nicer husband, a more ambitious worker, a tidier person. Rarely does it translate into ‘inspiration’, that I think: I’m going to do this or that differently. Decades of Ikea experience have taught me that I am walking through a mirage, a world I will never be able to inhabit. Does not matter. I also like Disney.
Let me dream away, sink into a fake leather sofa and look at the stately walnut veneered bookcase slash TV furniture. Or leaning on the standing table in the sun-drenched kitchen where I would always have breakfast in a good mood, if I were a man who had such a standing table, with the family that came with it. If I were rich enough and had room enough, I’d have all the rooms here recreated in one of my many houses, and pretend I was one of those people every day.
It’s never just looking at one thing. Even before we got to the kitchen section, we’d snatched up a yellow indoor shopping bag to put in pink pillows, a salad set, and a bamboo screen riser for my computer, because we couldn’t pass them all up. And a tape measure. How often are you suddenly jumping for a tape measure? Especially if you already needed furniture. Guys, they’re so smart.
We were done quickly in the kitchen department itself. All in all it had taken over an hour, we said to each other, as if that were a surprise. And we pretended that we would be in the car in five minutes now. But somewhere we knew of course that small kitchen grits were waiting downstairs, rugs, lamps, plants, and above all: small storage. Oh, I love small storage so infinitely.