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My mother liked the finer things in life. She was all about Victorian cherry wood, china, and crystal. She also collected antique porcelain figurines by Lladró. These figurines, originating in Spain, are representative of “the grand tradition of porcelain making, preserving artistic techniques of classic 18th-century European styles…” They can be/are somewhat valuable.
I did not inherit my mother’s champagne tastes. Even before TRR, our interests have always been more function than fashion. This means we love our admittedly expensive antique trunk, not because it is a valuable antique, but because it serves dual purposes. It’s a great end table that also stores extra blankets. For years, that trunk sat just a few feet from an entire wall of IKEA bookcases. And man, oh man, those bookcases nearly ended my mother!
Somewhere along the way, my mom gifted us with a fairly valuable Lladro figurine. It wasn’t our style, but it was a gift, so it was displayed on the bookcase along with several globes, a lantern or two, and a tree root that looks like a wisened old troll. In addition to books, the shelves displayed an eclectic mix of mementos from various ages and stages in our lives.
Mother was not very impressed as she perused our collectibles. She did not like the globes. “What is the point of a globe that doesn’t even show the countries?” She did not like the lanterns. “If you’re going to display your antiques, show off the nice ones, not a lantern with a crooked lid!” She did not like the root/troll. “W-h-h-y would you display that ugly piece of wood?” And finally, she expressed her disdain that I would even have IKEA bookshelves. “You guys are not just out of college. There is absolutely no reason for you to have IKEA furniture in your home at this point in your lives!”
And then I watched as her face tilted upward towards the top shelf, where the Lladro was perched. I can’t begin to describe the sound that escaped her lips. There was such a sharp intake of breath it caused her to hiccup, but she was trying to speak at the same time. What came out was an undulating high-pitched, squealing, forceful condemnation. “YOOO – OO – hiccup -OO – OOW -UUU CANNOT PUT A LLADRÓ ON IKEA SHELVES!” I don’t remember much else about that visit, but the Lladró was in her suitcase when she left.
My mom passed over a decade ago. I have no idea what happened to that Lladró, but our grandson – post college – has some of those original IKEA shelves in his bedroom.