Can someone please explain to me the attraction of Ikea?
Yes, I know it’s a furniture shop, well an empire of furniture shops.
Yes, I know they USED to sell furniture at competitive prices.
Yes I know that they’re attractively Scandinavian, but besides all that, what makes Ikea so special and further more, why does the fairer sex go bonkers for it?
It seems to me that every female is genetically programmed to love Ikea. If a woman had the logistical and monetary backing, (i.e. a bloke with a strong back and even stronger wallet), she would buy everything she needed in its hallowed halls. Food, plants, furniture, (of course), bedding, everything. From nightmarishly priced Scandinavian biscuits to paper thin cupboards. From dodgy over boiled hot dogs to dangerously angled office furniture, Ikea have it all and the ladies can’t seem to get enough of it.
Why is that?
What’s wrong with B&Q or Argos? Why does it have to be Ikea? Don’t people go to the catalogue shops anymore for those bargains that nobody knew were almost second hand?
I honestly do not know.
And then there’s the jumble sale of pots and pans, cutlery and glasses downstairs. Why do we ALWAYS find something that we think we need there only to return home and realise we already have three Day-Glo green potato peelers.
And what is that with the bloody flowers and plants? Are we in a gardening store or furniture store? When I was a kid and my Mam and Dad went out to buy a sofa they defo did not come back with a backseat load of plastic kitchen utensils and a car boot so full of exotic plants that it resembled the lizard house at Welsh Mountain Zoo.
No, they bought a sofa then drove home and waited for it to be delivered.
Buy a sofa at Ikea and you’re building the bloody thing for three weeks before you can sit on it.
We went to Ikea last week and spent nothing in the furniture department, not a Euro cent. However, by the time we had zigzagged our way through the Turkish bazaar of table cloths and plastic boxes to leave the building we had over €60 worth of junk in our wagon. Sixty bloody Euro! I wouldn’t mind but I picked most of it!!
Which is why I’m whining about it here.
Hey, it’s my Blog, I’ll whine if I want to… Bloody Ikea…