What do to when IKEA lets you down

Regular readers of this blog know that Brian and I are both big fans of IKEA. We've bought all kinds of goodies there—patio furniture, towels, foodstuffs, rechargeable batteries, kitchen gadgets, and holiday gifts. We've hacked IKEA furniture to fit over our space heaters and to make a sitting/standing desk for Brian. We've even celebrated our anniversary there, preferring an afternoon of bouncing on POANG chairs, exploring the model apartment layouts, browsing the collection of kitchen tools and kids' toys, and eating Swedish delicacies to such traditional, pricey entertainments as dining and dancing.

But lately, I've started to feel like IKEA has been letting us down. It started last year, when we noticed that its selection of LED light bulbs wasn't that impressive. The bulbs weren't really any cheaper than the ones at Home Depot, and they didn't have any that were particularly bright. Then, on our last anniversary trip there, we found that several of the things on our shopping list weren't available. My beloved MELLANROST decaf coffee, which I'd been planning to stock up on, had been supplanted by a new line of organic coffee called PÅTÅR, which doesn't come in a decaffeinated version. And worse still, when we went looking for a refill brush for our old LILLHOLMEN toilet brush holder, we discovered that both the holder and the LOSSNEN refills that fit it were no longer available. Instead, they had a new brush insert, called HEJAREN, which was sized for its newer toilet brush holders and probably wouldn't fit our old one. This was a major bummer, because the whole reason we'd bought the LILLHOLMEN in the first place was because it was so much more ecofrugal to replace the brush with a cheap refill when it wore out, rather than being forced to discard brush and handle together. If the refills were no longer available, the whole piece was now useless—even though the screw-on handle and holder were still perfectly good.

However, we thought there was a chance we could make the LILLHOLMEN work with the new HEJAREN inserts, so we decided to take a $3 risk and buy a couple. After a bit of tinkering, Brian was able to get the new insert screwed into place, and it was just short enough to fit into the base—but it wasn't exactly secure. Every time I tried to brush the toilet bowl with it, the slightest amount of pressure caused the brush to bend and threaten to snap. And eventually, on maybe the third or fourth use, that's exactly what it did, breaking off right at the point where the insert attached to the handle.


To add insult to injury, another IKEA tool that we used all the time in our bathroom, our little shower squeegee, chose the same week to break. I just went to wipe the shower walls with it as usual, and it snapped right off at the handle. I suppose I can't complain too much about this one, since it only cost us $2 to begin with and we'd been using it for several years, but it did feel like all our IKEA products were failing us at once.

Our first thought was to try to repair the damaged items, since that's usually (though not always) more ecofrugal than buying new ones. Brian tried fixing the squeegee with epoxy, fitting it around the join and molding it into all the cracks, but to no avail; the first time I tried to use it, it snapped right in the same place. As for the toilet brush, we could probably have glued the broken end of the insert back on, but we quickly realized there wasn't much point, as it still wouldn't fit the handle. It would still be subject to the same stress every time we used it, so it would almost certainly break again.

So then we headed out to Bed Bath & Beyond to try and find replacements for the two damaged items. And there, we got a quick, sharp reminder of just why IKEA, despite its shortcomings, is still our favorite place to shop for small items like these. The store had a fairly large assortment of shower squeegees, but none for less than $10, when the perfectly functional IKEA one that we'd been using for years had cost only $2. (Even with inflation, a similar item there—made with recycled plastic, no less—costs the same today.) As for the toilet brushes, Bed Bath & Beyond was charging $15 and up for a perfectly plain, utilitarian model such as you could buy at IKEA for under a dollar. At those prices, we could spend the $8.50 in tolls for a trip up to IKEA and spend the same amount (and we'd be able to get a new toilet brush that would be refillable, so it would cost less in the long run).

So we walked out of Bed Bath & Beyond pretty much convinced that there was no reason ever to go back; nothing there, as far as we can tell, is ever going to be a good deal, even with the inevitable 20% off coupon that arrives regularly in our mail. But on the other hand, making a trip up to IKEA for a cheaper alternative is a much bigger undertaking, and we wouldn't have time for it until the next weekend at least. Letting water build up on our shower walls for a whole week didn't seem like a good option.

In the end, we compromised. We picked up a reasonably priced squeegee at Target for $3.50, and Brian took another crack at repairing the old toilet brush using Sugru, a nifty product that's like a cross between Superglue and modeling clay. We can't be sure how well the repaired brush will hold, and even if it does, it will no longer be refillable—but at least we'll be able to use our existing brush a little longer, which will give us time to shop for a more reasonable replacement.