Ice Cream at IKEA: a Photo Essay

This summer was The Summer of IKEA. Despite the 90-minute drive through scorching desert during a heat wave, we went to IKEA so many times—individually, as a couple, and as a family—that we started leaving toothbrushes there. The staff started rolling their eyes when we arrived. I witnessed a near-fistfight once. Luca watched most of Tangled in Småland. I now know all the shortcuts through the showroom. I ate something other than the meatballs.

And still I’m not sick of IKEA, even despite my experience with The Worst Dresser Ever Made. To me, it’s like going to Disney. It’s magic. It’s my regional design Mecca.

Plus, ice cream.

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