Life’s accoutrements come at a seemingly soaring price.
LONG, long ago, my friends and peers started “nesting”. Buying a first bed. Or couch. Or bean bag (they were dirt cheap back then and young people could afford them ‒ and get in and out of them). Or linen and kitchen things.
We had zilch money and almost every furniture item was a sturdy cardboard box covered with cheap, colourful fabric. Flea markets provided “decor” and cheap pine was painted or “fabricated”. A foam mattress on the floor was casual and bohemian.
Devilishly clever “designer” bookcases (we all had loads of previously loved books) were lengths of painted wood on bricks.
A second-hand clothes rail served to hang your flea market-sourced or “used” wardrobe. You sewed stuff and invented your own unique “style” ‒ colourful and cheap. Shopped at roadside stalls for baskets and bowls, or mats, either for the floor or for super-creative window blinds. Cheap saris made jewel-like curtains at R50 a drop.
It was creative and rewarding.
A few outlets began to attract our attention with offerings we could sometimes (just) afford. But you daren’t speak their name for fear of announcing your cheapness.
Sometimes a sheet or duvet cover came from Em Are Price. Garmay was for small appliances. Once, I bought two “paintings” from that exclusive art gallery Em Aye Krow. They were bright and pretty and still hang on my wall.
Aye See Kerman seems to have remained faithful to its target customers, and regular people can afford to go in and have a look.
The lounge suite I bought nearly 20 years ago (from a Garmay-type outlet) cost about R7 000 for a three-seater, a two seater and an armchair. All have served faithfully and comfortably. Don’t just believe me: the five canine occupants agree.
Emails from a couple of the modern-day versions of the retailers indicate they’ve clearly moved from the home start-up segment. Either that or the starter homemakers earn way more than we did.
I always look: it’s an old habit to gather “rich” ideas and see how to do it on the cheap.
These are not exclusive shops. They are chains. But some of their prices make you think you have wandered into a store that has a double-barrelled name etched in gold plate above teak doors.
One two-seater costs as much as my whole “suite”. And doesn’t look nearly as comfortable. I’m sure the dogs wouldn’t like it either.
Among my best finds, years ago, at Em Are Price was a sale table loaded with bright, cheerful dinner plates. They cost, as I recall, about R5 or R6 apiece: I bought a lot.
Sadly, there have been accidents and just a few remain. Luckily, I seldom need more than one and I’m grateful. A full set now would cost as much as my old Oregon pine dining table, bought at one of those “cheap” stores.
Young folk face a difficult “nesting” season with high unemployment, Covid and an uncertain future. I just hope they can find the sense of content we had when we sat in our bean bags and lit an “atmospheric” candle on our cardboard box, waiting for the time we would have a proper table.
- Lindsay Slogrove is the news editor
The Independent on Saturday