Cheap chic

Returning home from a trip to my local bookstore empty-handed--they were sold out of "Deluxe: How Luxury Lost Its Luster," the book I was looking for--I was greeted by a mailbox delightfully full of alternative reading material: a new issue of the New Yorker, a postcard from a friend overseas, a few bills and the Ikea 2008 catalogue.

Deciding to set aside the reality of bills to pay, the friend I had neglected to keep in touch with and the stack of New Yorkers I was already behind on reading, I soon found myself flipping through page after page of Ikea's affordable escapism. I contemplated buying a new couch (a circular conversation with myself that starts with "I do need a new one," followed by "it is an investment piece," then "but it is on the expensive side for Ikea" and back to "I do need a new one"). I thought about "hacking" a few tables into a shelf. And then came upon a page promoting a new luxury line from Ikea: Ikea Stockholm.

Now, the concept of going high-low makes sense to me. The now-ubiquitous collaborations between big-name designers and mass market retailers, like, most recently, Roberto Cavalli for H&M, Jovovich-Hawk for Target and Vera Wang for Kohl's, are essentially a case of high-end design for low-end prices, and I'm all for budget-priced Cavalli and company. But low-high, as it were? Is it a case of low-end design for high-end prices? Or just a basic brand pushing the price tag, albeit with plush this and plump that? The appeal of luxe lines for main street shops, such as Forever 21's new Twelve by Twelve "couture" (their word) line, alludes me.

Sure, luxury might have lost its luster (which I'm sure I would know much more about once I get my hands on a copy of the book!), but lustrous low-end? Really. There's nothing more de-luxe than that.