IKEA Vittsjö Hack- My Golden Table

I am great at spending money.   If I know I'll wear it and feel pretty in it, I can justify a $40 lipstick.  It's all about perceived value.  $400 for gorgeous boots that I'll wear and be comfortable in?  Absolutely.  More than that for something that I'll put drinks and magazines (and my feet, when no one's around) on?  No, sorry, can't do it.  It's the law of diminishing returns.  Sure, a $500 coffee table is probably nicer than a $50 one, but it's not ten times nicer.  A coffee table can only be so interesting, to me, anyway.  I understand that this is the minority opinion, however.

Hence, Ikea.



When I moved back to Toronto in the late 90s, I wanted a fresh start, so I bought new everything,  and got it all at Ikea.  I moved into my new place with a ton of clothes and a bunch of flat pack boxes.   I invited over my best girlfriends, gave them each a glass of wine and an allen key, and by the end of the night, I had a furnished apartment! Rickety, built-by-girls furniture, but furniture, and it looked great. This was my blonde wood and celery green walls phase, and Ikea was perfect for that aesthetic, and that time in my life.  All that furniture probably ended up as kindling, but for a single woman making not much money, Ikea gave me a functional and comfortable home.

I suppose at this stage in my life, I'm too old, and financially stable, for Ikea.  My current sofa is from Elte, a classy store in the design district in Toronto; I have other pieces from shops on King East and Queen West, but there's still a surprising amount of Ikea in this place.

There's the regrettable TV "tower of power" from the dearly departed Expedit line.  I wish I'd just gotten a nice console and some shelves to surround it, but not enough to go through the agony of moving this behemoth. My dining table is an expandable Ikea table.  Matched with UpCountry Eames-ish wire chairs, I'm happy with the look.  Billy and Malm still live in the bedroom, for now.  What can I say, it's functional, it looks good, and if I decide to change styles, I don't feel as guilty as I would if I'd spent thousands of dollars on every piece of furniture I own.

I really wanted to get a coffee table from somewhere other than Ikea, but I couldn't find anything I liked, at least for under $800.  Add on the tax, and that's a return flight to Paris.  No way in hell I was spending that, so I got the round Vittsjö  and a can of gold spray paint, and voilà, a coffee table I'm perfectly happy to have under a pile of Condé Nast Travelers  and coasters from Sip Sip.  And look at all the money I have left for lipstick!