Miscellany: A Visit to IKEA's Orlando Store

It's hard to believe any single retail store could outshine the upscale Mall at Millenia in Orlando. After all, the Mall at Millenia features dozens and dozens of shops, including posh tenants like Vuitton, Cartier, and Ferragamo.

Looming in the distance, though, is a blue and yellow Scandinavian monolith of home furnishing:


Until I visited the store in Orlando, I had a negative perception of IKEA and their products. I think this was partly due to the flak they got from David Fincher's über-pretentious movie, "Fight Club" - here's the narrator whining about them:



Compare that message with IKEA's own commercial, directed by Spike Jonze. It's a neat little piece, parodying the sentimental attachment people have for their stuff. And yes, there's a Swedish guy in there:



Two takes on the company by two idiosyncratic directors. I had all the research I needed, at least for a trip to a furniture store.

To begin with, walking inside IKEA was like walking inside a set of architect's blueprints. Every foot of the place is so heavily designed and thought out that it's impossible not to be impressed. To your right, there's a play area - with a ball pit, arts and crafts, and full supervision by the staff so moms and dads can shop without worry. To your left, there are lockers to keep any personal stuff safe while you shop, complete with color-coded, numbered keys. The design intent is clear - Ikea wants you to focus on nothing but shopping, to hold nothing but what is on sale. After all, who can measure a bureau for their bedroom when their two year old is throwing a fit?

And what's this? You discern some commotion upstairs...is that people eating? Inside a furniture store?


Yes, IKEA has a full cafeteria, serving Swedish-y food at reasonable prices. You can buy a 50 cent hot dog, or a $1 cinnamon roll, or have a cup of lingonberry-flavored soda. For people feeling more peckish, the Swedish meatballs and stuffed salmon are sure to please. Only Scandinavians would bother to offer food for patrons at a furniture store. Because who wants to shop for a new entertainment center when they're hungry?

After the initial shock wears off, though, the experience is much like any furniture store. There are model rooms, many of which are arranged into tiny floor spaces with square footage that is proudly displayed when you enter. You'd be amazed at how much storage and furniture you can cram into 237 square feet if you really try.

IKEA offers stuff for the home and office, and it all bears one-word Scandinavian names. Sometimes these are easy to remember (the KASSETT line of media storage accessories) and sometimes they're a little inscrutable (SKÄRPT kitchen knives). The store is so large that there's a suggested walking path (with arrows drawn on the ground), but even after traipsing through the showroom you might come away impressed but not awed. Until you walk into the attached warehouse...


That's a lot of furniture. When you think about how many rooms, how many homes, how many neighborhoods could be furnished with the stuff in just a single IKEA warehouse, the mind boggles at how far evolution has taken us. Were we really lashing together temporary shelters from fallen trees and leaves thousands of years ago?

Since IKEA is all about flat-packed, your-assembly-required furniture, you can buy and cart away an entire living room's worth of furniture in a single trip. You walk through the showroom, ticking off what you like, and then pick it up when you walk inside their enormous warehouse. Plop it on your cart (which, incidentally, is also offered for sale in the store) and head to the cashiers. Where there's more stuff you can buy while you stand in line.

All in all, I'd say that if you've never been inside an IKEA store, it'd be worth your time to visit one, if only for a lesson in customer service/industrial design/consumer psychology. The entire store is engineered so that it's almost impossible not to buy something, anything. Heck, even a homeless guy could afford a 50 cent hot dog.

My suggested soundtrack for your Ikea experience? My favorite indie Swedish pop band, Komeda: