I recently moved, which means I went to IKEA. 

The trip started out as a normal one; we started with barstools, couches, and finished our trek with all the kitchen gear: plates, cups, silverware, martini glasses (importantly) and the like. It wasn’t until we hit the food court that I realized I hadn’t stepped foot in an IKEA since olive oil came in squeezable packaging or water was deadly. 

Of course, I remembered the Swedish meatballs and sleek white tables and chairs, but I didn’t remember the grocery store-inspired storefront. And the best part about the market? The refreshingly charming packaging designs. My “normal” trip to IKEA quickly turned into an all-consuming packaging-analyzing trip, which was undoubtedly unexpected and a massive detour in my fiance’s eyes.