Material Girl

I’m suffering from a modern disease – or perhaps it is a syndrome? I like to call it Ikea Discontent. It is a strange malaise, attacking mostly young people who like to think that they are carefree and without responsibility. Indeed, victims may continue for months – even years – without seeing their irrational and impulsive behaviour for what it is. I therefore wish to present a guide to diagnosis, just in case you or someone you love is affected.

Sufferers will display a lack of interest in repairing anything that breaks around the house. Whether it be expensive electronic gadgetry or the kitchen cutlery drawer, their attitude will be that things which are broken are now no longer worthy to be part of their home, and should be either thrown away or left to collect dust (depending on the innate housewifeliness of the subject, which is oddly unrelated to this condition). If they do attempt a repair, it will be with any air of play rather than with any serious intention to continue using the item. Mildly inconvenient things will be similarly ignored or disdained. For example, a futon that has become slightly de-aerated and uncomfortable. Let the older generations tell stories of the days when mattresses and cushions actually used to get thumped to bring them back to life – no, once it’s squashed it will stay that way.

All of this is of course secondary to the true goal of the I.D. sufferer – to get New Things. I’ll admit I’ve never known any sufferers (or indeed people of any sort) with plenty of money, but in normal people there is guilt (probably planted by our parents when we weren’t looking) about buying New Things. What a waste of money, eh, when you already have something that can do the same job? The subject will therefore try to justify their purposes in every possible way – from searching out the cheapest New Things to working up such a feeling of discontent with their Old Things that they absolutely have to replace them no matter what the cost. Obviously, combining both approaches leads to the most satisfactory results.

And what, I hear you ask, does Ikea have to do with any of this? Well (I say in return) - Ikea encourages us, lures us, tells us we can just change everything. Fed up of seeing the same old room every time you walk through the door? Sleeping badly and feeling like blaming it on your bed? Mildly discontent about having to use an old garlic crusher with rust spots on? Essentially unable to control your life in any way and searching for something shiny with which you can comfort yourself? Come in, come in, we have brightly coloured things for ridiculously low prices…

Eventually, you will reach the point where it seems unfair to you if you can’t have a new thing every week or two. Where furniture needs replacing just because you’ve had it for over a year and all the things in the shops look better. Where everything is made to be enjoyed for a short time and then discarded – consumed, in the truest sense of the word, but with no benefit from it.

What happened to make do & mend? To saving up money for special indulgences rather than just spending all the time? To the pleasure of using things that other people have used before you? To the satisfaction of knowing you don’t need anything more than what you’ve got? It’s almost hard to remember how that felt.

So, is there hope? I don’t know. Will I ever be able to go back to being happy with all that I have, and unconcerned by the people who have more things? I like to think so. Because I enjoy the times when it doesn’t matter, when all that you have (and all that you need) is compressed into one bag and you are totally independent – camping, hostelling, etc. And I also keep things around long past the point where there are better versions of them – the Argos plain blue & white plates I bought in my first week at university have a certain nostalgic appeal to them, as does the outmoded cd player that kept me company on those nights where I stayed up working until 1 or 2am. I would find it a wrench to part with either of those.

I guess it is not a problem to replace things when you feel they need replacing. The trick is not to feel that need where it doesn’t exist, just because things are new or you’re having an off day. Because really, there are far better uses for my money than to constantly upgrade fully-functioning things. And to spend your life with the nagging feeling that it would all sort itself out if only you could improve those one or two remaining things is not healthy. Instead, I should work on aiming for…*sly grin*…more of a feeling of content. Maybe Fitz wasn’t so wrong after all.

But then, there’s no Ikea in Buckkeep.