In today's era of globalization, companies are no longer limited to producing physical goods and providing services. Competition among producers now goes beyond just price and quality; it also involves the intangible aspects of "narrative," which include ideas, emotions, and meanings. The importance of storytelling in shaping a company's identity, values, and unique characteristics cannot be underestimated. This is particularly evident in the success of brands like Ikea, which has strategically built its corporate culture around this approach.

After nearly thirty years since its founding in 1943, Ikea increasingly sought to align itself with a particular image of Scandinavian design, associated with concepts of egalitarianism, sustainability, and social justice, thereby reinforcing its functional and essential aesthetic. As Sara Kristoffersson explained in her book Design by IKEA: A Cultural History, core principles such as “Design for all” and “Democratic design,” which underpin Ikea’s design philosophy, stem from the communal values shared by the Swedish welfare state—deeply invested in the home as the fundamental right of every citizen and in educating popular taste toward an appreciation of beauty.

Although it was never a one-sided construction process – Sweden itself also sought to shape its national image through design – Ikea strategically emphasized the “Swedishness” of its products to communicate its values globally, while maintaining affordability and accessibility for the wider public. In many ways, Ikea has always been an ideological brand with an understandable language: it has never merely sold furniture, but ways of living and thinking about domestic space.

Thanks to a narrative that has preserved its original spirit, along with the idea that lower prices could allow anyone to create the home of their dreams, the Ikea brand is still widely associated around the world with affordability and a direct, physically engaging shopping experience. Its low prices and the interior design of its stores have always been its hallmark, conceived to give pragmatic form to fantasies and aspirations. The theatrical presentation of furniture in its stores and the meticulousness of its catalogs have, for entire generations, ensured a real first contact point with the world of design, long perceived as a privilege for the few, rather than a right for all.

And yet, in recent years, through a sort of conceptual and cultural shift, many of Ikea’s most iconic models have become symbolic objects; pieces once worth only a few dozen euros are now sold for thousands on the online second-hand market. Social media (especially TikTok and Instagram) have brought renewed public attention to old catalogues, discontinued collections, and furnishings now considered “retro.” Other items from the 1980s and ’90s, such as Verner Panton’s Vilbert chair or the Hasslo armchair are drawing collectors's interest worldwide. Riding the wave of this rekindled enthusiasm for some of its most famous products, Ikea itself has re-released updated and modernized versions of these classics.

However, when “democratic design” transforms into a cult object, intriguing dynamics emerge; paradoxical gaps open between social narratives and real-world circumstances. Ikea has undoubtedly succeeded in crafting an image of a company distant from the traditional consumerist world of corporation and close to the needs of its customers. But perhaps the heart of its timeless achievement lies more in the personal connection people have with it than in its “low-cost” label. To identify affordable pricing as the sole driving force behind its popularity would be overly simplistic and anachronistic. Likewise, it would be unjust to attribute its commercial success exclusively to trends or collaborations with internationally renowned designers.

In this paradoxical situation, both Ikea’s adaptable effort to remain paired with positive values and the cultural interpretations of our relationship with objects and the passage of time stand out equally. What is important to highlight, perhaps in what represents a semantic reconfiguration of Ikea’s cultural imagery, is the emotional dimension of these design pieces and their role in nurturing intergenerational feelings of belonging, identity, and nostalgia. Furniture that may appear “ordinary” becomes meaningful when it relates to us, reflecting the most basic of needs – one that perhaps isn’t so basic after all: the desire to see ourselves in something we’ve all shared.