I've dreamed of living at Ikea so many times. Everything so efficient, in its right spot, perfectly planned and laid out. It's like a dream, one where the pillows are always fluffed, the duvets are always down, my shoes are always on racks, and all my clothes fit into those sliding-door closets instead of exploding out of drawers stuffed way too full. But I guess in the end it's a little white washed, and not me. Who am I kidding? I spill.
These images by Christian Gideon combine the best of both worlds: cool Swedish efficiency with American WTF-ness. Did that guy take his shirt and shoes off in Ikea? (And was he still able to get service?)
WTF. I live in New York. I would DIE to have a 375 sq. ft. home.
The dogs are barking.
He survived the warrior dash, but he still reminisces about the past as he stares at sepia-tone daguerreotypes of his ancestors. What was life like for them?