First I noticed that throughout the catalog, the photos contain rumpled, unfolded things, and also, piles of things. They're artful piles--not clutter like normal everyday people know it--but piles nonetheless, and I believe this is a departure for this catalog.
Next, I realised that IKEA is telling me that not only is it okay that I keep things from 5th grade, but that I should also make sure I have a place to keep them forever.
I even think they might be spying on me. How do they know what my bedside looks like? How did they know I wanted exactly this sort of little table to stash all my bedside reads? How did they know I even have that many bedside reads? They know how lazy I am! They're encouraging me!
That's when I got a little bit scared. Has it always been this way? Has IKEA just been enabling my clutter proclivities over the years? And all this time I thought they were going to save me!
Despite the odd run-in with a shonky DIY furniture pack or two over the years, I'd always considered the IKEA showroom and catalog a place of dreams: of prettily designed, accessible organisation; of sweet, clear Scandinavian light falling on dust-free surfaces; of drawers and cupboards where silverfish fear to tread. But apparently I was mistaken: they are merely clutter dealers, pushing me to keep all my crap. But keep it in tidily arranged folders and boxes on endlessly expandable modular shelving, thanks.
On the other hand, all of this could also mean that the wheel of fashion is turning: the "perfect" room is no longer an effective marketing tool. Perfection is boring. Turn the page. Flick! Oh, look: clutter! Now we're talking.
Could the revival of clutter be on the horizon? Goodbye to glossy, glassy, slick, sharp home design? Could the notion of having a "magazine-perfect house" finally be going the way of the thylacine? Actually, I'd welcome that.
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