December 3, 2009

Culture Clash

While Americans tend to pigeonhole IKEA as the beginning and end of home furnishing for the pre- and post-grad years known as the early twenties, the rest of the world sees it from other perspectives.

In this corner, coming in at some 50-strong, we have the displaced and disgruntled creative elite of Hamburg’s Frappant office building, staging an ideological protest by (re?)appropriating the showroom as a functional workspace.

And in the other corner, we have legions of workaday Chinese, young relatives and cameras in tow, drawn to the blue-and-yellow monolith purely for sport and leisure, with little to no intention of actually buying anything.

And thus, Sweden’s pride and joy asserts its rightful status as a symbol for capitalism, globalization and (lest we forget) affordable modern design.

I can only speculate as to the significance of these two divergent perceptions of the überbrand:

As I understand it, the German yuppies are protesting both a proposed store (at the site of their office space) and the broader city-branding campaign that it represents: a new IKEA would not only force them out of their studios but also (rather insidiously) leverages Hamburg’s reputation as a creative and intellectual community to justify gentrification. In other words, the city hopes to raise its profile by simultaneously piggybacking on and alienating its thriving creative class.

The Chinese, on the other hand, are simply piqued by the novelty of the megastore—and let’s face it, there really isn’t any other kind of store or novelty in Beijing—another instance of the prevalent Chinese fetishization of Western consumerism in theory but not necessarily practice.

The irony, then, is that the Hamburgers’ (yes I’ll admit that this post is just a long excuse to use that term) activism actually plays right into the marketing—i.e. IKEA is for creative people! (cf. Apple)—that they are protesting, while the Beijingers’ behavior is easily more subversive: taking advantage of the showroom without any commitment to buy.

Though frustrated, IKEA executives hope browsers like Luo will eventually turn into buyers. That’s why they don’t shoo anyone away for sleeping. It’s the promise of China’s middle class that has girded their investment here. The privately owned company operates seven stores in China, though there have been indications that profit remains elusive.

“The brand awareness is great, but the question is, how do we get people to open up their wallets and spend money?” said Linda Xu, a company spokeswoman who rolled her eyes when she came upon a trio of slumbering customers.

–Beijing Loves IKEA—But Not for Shopping
The LA Times, 08/25/09

Photos via *urbanshit.de and LA Times. See also: Sleeping Chinese.