Friday, July 4, 2014

IKEPOD - or the Ghost in the Machine

I did, for a brief period of time, live on the "other side" of the Bay across from the city of dreams, San Francisco.  Wendy and I lived in Emeryville (which was referred to as the "Green Zone" smack dab in the middle of some decidedly dicier neighborhoods).  And when I did venture across the verdant frontier to "Oak Town", I was reminded of Gertrude Stein's thoughts on her childhood home of Oakland -
...but not there, there is no there there. ... Ah Thirteenth Avenue was the same it was shabby and overgrown. ... Not of course the house, the house the big house and the big garden and the eucalyptus trees and the rose hedge naturally were not there any longer existing, what was the use ...
And now, knowing a bit more of the back story of IKEPOD, I have to say that the IKEPOD of today is by no measure the IKEPOD of the 90s and early 00s.  I remember discovering the IKEPOD watches writ large across the glossy expanses of Wallpaper magazine, I was leering at them in a Stockman's department store in Helsinki.  Those watches were like water from the moon.  I wanted one - I wanted one in the way that therapists would describe as "unhealthy".  I wanted one like I wanted a relationship with the beautiful girl in high school who paid attention to you more out of kindness than out of actual interest - I wanted one.  

Chronographs, GMTs, Divers, and if memory serves me - even an alarm!  It was an amazing collection of watches, it was positioned well - it was something special.


Today's IKEPOD is, well, sorta' depressing.  There is no "zing", no passion, no excitement - it is about as exciting as my annual prostate exam.  Yes, gentle reader, I am a man of a certain age.  

There is barely a hint of the creative guise that was once there.  Today's IKEPOD is not unlike the lingering aroma of a fart that was emitted surreptitiously with the hope of not being detected.  We deserve more.

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