In a blurb in the latest issue of The Atlantic, Ellen Ruppel Shell exhorts us to demonstrate responsibility in the face of economic difficulties by resisting the disposable nature of many of today's products and instead buying lasting quality. Her whipping post is Ikea -- the world's largest furniture retailer -- whom she takes to task for selling essentially disposable, low-quality crap under a thin veneer (pun fully intended) of striking design, while engaging in environmentally and ethically questionable business practices and being otherwise ungreen, all in the name of meeting a low price point. Well, having moved recently, and never really having owned any decent, or even coordinated, furniture, J. and I have been shopping at Ikea, and I can report that while relative to other stores, Ikea's prices are indeed somewhat lower, they are by no means cheap. Which brings up a side question -- why is furniture so expensive, anyway? Even $500 for a sofa seems excessive to me, and that's the low end, in the grand scheme of things. I mean, some wooden planks and polyester stuffing with some fabric stretched over it all? How difficult can it be?
But let's grant Ms. Shell her premise that Ikea is cheap. I've seen some gorgeous, heirloom-quality, artisan-built furniture. I have also seen its prices. Is that what we're supposed to buy during a recession? Well, both J. and I still have our jobs, have not had to take any pay cuts yet, and we live in a part of the country that seems to be weathering the recession better than some others. And even at Ikea, we have to be very careful not to overextend ourselves, buying one large item every month, if that. And The Atlantic wants us to spend five times the money in this economy? Thank you, Mr. Bennet, for demonstrating yet again how utterly disconnected the lifestyle coverage of your magazine is from the everyday reality of your readers' lives. There are far more egregious examples of the abiding cluelessness of the self-appointed cultural elite in the same issue, too.
But all that made me think of something else. Could we not say that the disposable nature of most of our personal belongings, especially furniture, however unsatisfying it may be to own, in fact contributes to the dynamism of the American economy? From an economic standpoint, we want our workforce to be as mobile as possible, right? The easier it is for people to get to where the work is, the more quickly the work will be done, increasing productivity. Americans move seven times in their lives on average, and we want to make all that moving as painless as possible. This is especially critical in a recession, when you should be far more willing to go where there is work than normally. So go ahead and leave all that low-quality, cheap furniture behind and go forth unencumbered. When you arrive, there's probably an Ikea there.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
5 comments:
I'm the author of that IKEA piece that was actually based on research I did for my upcoming book CHEAP: THE HIGH COST OF DISCOUNT CULTURE. Folks, I'm all for frugality--but frugality is not only about price. What about value? If, as Liquorice says, IKEA furniture is not low priced, then why does he suggest that we dump it and buy new IKEA furniture after each move? My point is that quality need not be costly or environmentally compromised--think second hand stores, vintage shops, etc. While IKEA is designed to catch the eye--and get us to reach for our wallets--it is not crafted to last--or to offer lasting value. My book--which considers the science, psychology, history and economics of low priced America--is meant to help all of us make wiser decisions about where we put our shrinking bucks.
Thank you, Ellen, for your thoughtful comment. I must say I was pleasantly surprised that the original author took the time to comment.
I understand what you're saying, but unfortunately not everyone has the luxury of being able to find lasting value at a low price. Shopping at second-hand stores and vintage shops for used furniture is much like shopping for a used car or a used anything else -- you need to know what you're looking for and what to avoid and, most importantly, you need time to scour the vintage shops and estate sales looking for things that do offer lasting value, would fit into your house, and won't clash too badly with things you may already own. This is time I, for one, do not have. Perhaps if I was a freelance writer with fewer demands on my schedule, or married into money, I would be able to dedicate the time to finding the perfect vintage bookcase to house my copy of Cheap: The High Cost of Discount Culture. But with full-time (and occasionally overtime) jobs for both my wife and myself, commutes, cooking meals, and an occasional break to read said copy of Cheap, spending time looking for vintage furniture is simply not an option.
Not to mention that if I really took such a search seriously, my 32-mpg compact sedan wouldn't cut it. I would surely have to upgrade to a far less fuel-efficient vehicle to haul in the booty. Frugality in one area usually breeds profligacy in another. There is no free lunch.
Having just assembled a few Billy bookshelves, I can attest that while Ikea's quality is certainly not heirloom, it is adequate for the price they charge, which is really what any self-respecting merchant should strive to provide -- good value for the money. Unlike many others, Ikea succeeds.
Finally, on the rare occasion in my life when I have actually disposed of a piece of furniture, I cannot think of a single occasion when I threw something into the dumpster, and I am not suggesting other do so either. There are always places, whether the local Goodwill or the neighbourhood grad student, that will be happy to take your donation, however battered. So we are not literally dumping anything, whether an Ikea bookcase or a a beautifully hand-crafted wooden cabinet, and in the case of the former, there is usually less emotional attachment, making it that much easier to remain mobile.
I guess what I am saying in the end is that if you have the luxury and inclination to seek out lasting value on a budget, you are very lucky. For the rest of us, there is Ikea.
Wow.
That's a huge steaming pile of shoddy thinking packed into a tiny little space.
For example, Ellen blasts IKEA for locating in the low-tax suburbs, claiming that they "cleverly" pass transport costs on to the consumer, without seeming to realize that the situation is exactly symmetrical: urban stores may save (some) consumers travel time and expense, but of course they pass on the cost of doing business in a higher-tax, more highly-regulated area. There's no free lunch - you have to count the costs saved as well as the costs incurred. Consumers generally factor into their decisions non-pecuniary costs such as convenience, and "assembly required"; how is it a bad thing for people to have a wider array of cost options to choose from? (Answer: it isn't).
Content-free questions are apparently important enough to get very nearly their own paragraphs: "Can we afford to keep shopping at places where an item’s price reflects only a fraction of its societal costs?" Can who afford? What do you mean by "afford"? what are "societal costs", and is it never the case that one person's "societal cost" is balanced by "societal benefits" to another?
And I note with some amusement that it's no longer necessary to even attempt a justification of the implication that Wal-Mart is the antithesis of good values. All right-thinking people know this in their marrow, which is why nobody works or shops there any more. Well, except for those crass IKEA people, probably.
And of course, IKEA should pay a premium to nebulously "ensure" that their timber is "legally harvested", rather than trying to do that due diligence themselves. Who defines "legal"? Who does the ensuring, and who ensures that the ensurers get it right?
I recommend passing on the doubtless slipshod and disposable CHEAP and buying something with a little bit more lasting value.
I just recently rid myself of several rooms full of IKEA furniture in preparation for an international move, and I fully intend to replace that furniture with stuff bought at the IKEA in my new location. I read this piece in the Atlantic back when it was posted and had similar thoughts to Liquorice -- while I'm sad to dispose of so much stuff, I am also happy that I didn't spend thousands of dollars on antiques before deciding to move across the world and leave it all behind.
However, I do have some sympathy. It bothers me a little that we have so much disposable stuff in the world. Transportation costs being what they are, though, I don't see how to really avoid that. For example, it costs about the same to Fedex a fifty pound box to Hong Kong as it does to buy a one way airfare. How can that be?
I guess it would work out if every apartment was permanently finished and we all lived as pod people or something.
I agree with Rasalom about the locations too -- I don't want to walk past a massive furniture store to get my lunch on. I like those atrocities out in the suburbs where you generally don't have to think about them.
I should point out that, like Liquorice, I didn't dump any of my furniture. Some of it was resold on Craigslist, and some of it was given away to friends. Nothing was abandoned, and even though IKEA does produce some shoddy stuff, I had those Billy Bookcases for over 10 years and they still look brand new.
Post a Comment