How IKEA Chopped, Hollowed Out and Flattened Its Furniture to Cut Costs
With inflation squeezing consumers and material and shipping prices up, the company took products back to the drawing board
With inflation squeezing consumers and material and shipping prices up, the company took products back to the drawing board
ÄLMHULT, Sweden—Amid IKEA’s colourful staged living rooms, piles of umlaut-laden housewares and endless rows of flat-pack boxes is furniture that can have shoppers wondering: How does that chair cost only $35?
IKEA grew into a furniture behemoth with a relentless focus on keeping costs low, but that goal has become more challenging. The price of metal, glass, wood and plastic have spiralled up, as have shipping costs. Inflation has squeezed consumers’ wallets. Managers at IKEA knew that something had to change to keep prices down and profits up, so in the past couple of years they have taken some of their products back to the drawing board.
Designers experimented with ways to reduce IKEA’s reliance on wood—even in its trademark wooden furniture—to cut material and shipping costs. Lighter, less expensive plastics, they discovered, could be used instead in cabinet doors and drawers.
They learned that they could substitute less expensive recycled aluminium for zinc, which had doubled in price over two years to $4,371 per metric ton after the start of the Ukraine war. Recycled aluminium is now going into bathroom hooks and other products.
When they turned to packaging, they cut freight costs by purging flat packs of “fresh air and wasted space,” said Fredrika Inger, IKEA’s global range manager. On the new Nämmarö garden chair, the curved wooden slats featured on a previous model were straightened, which allowed the components to be packed more tightly together.
“Our budget is the customer’s wallet, and their wallets are smaller than ever,” said Susanne Waidzunas, global supply manager at Inter IKEA Holding BV, the company that owns the IKEA brand, develops its products and manages its supply chain.
Based in Älmhult in southern Sweden, where the late Ingvar Kamprad founded the company eight decades ago, IKEA is today the world’s biggest seller of furniture, with 460 mostly franchise-operated stores spread across 62 countries that carry some 9,500 products. Its in-store canteens serve 1 billion Swedish meatballs with cream sauce and lingonberry jam each year.
Mr. Kamprad, who died in 2018, believed in “democratic design”—essentially that everyday products should be attractive and functional, but also affordable. It was, in part, a hard-nosed strategy designed to maximize sales.
The challenges started with the disruptions of the Covid-19 pandemic, compounded by Russia’s invasion of Ukraine. Then high inflation presented many companies with a dilemma: raise prices to offset growing costs and risk alienating customers, or keep prices down and sacrifice profit margins. IKEA did some of both last year, and its annual profit halved, to 710 million euros, equivalent to $778 million, despite record sales.
As part of its push to boost profits, the company said last week it would spend 2 billion euros to open new U.S. locations over the next three years—its largest-ever investment in new American stores.
One of the company’s chief weapons in its fight to cut costs is the Billy bookcase, a bestseller considered the “heart of IKEA,” said Jesper Samuelsson, the product’s manager. Over 140 million units have been sold since it first appeared in the 1979 edition of the IKEA catalog. The company says someone, somewhere buys a Billy every five seconds—which comes out to around 6.3 million sales a year.

According to IKEA’s official history, the Billy’s original design was scribbled on a napkin after its creator, Gillis Lundgren, was inspired by criticism from IKEA’s then-advertising manager that the company’s bookcases lacked simplicity.
Now, Mr. Samuelsson said, IKEA colleagues have a game they play: “If you’re a product in IKEA, which one are you? I’m Billy—it’s a very simple, straightforward product.”
The Billy comes in two styles: white and wood finish. Its last major overhaul came in 1999, when the company changed its method for producing the white version. IKEA designers knocked a fifth off the unit’s price by replacing its white lacquer coating with a melamine foil.
It has been significantly cheaper than the wood-finish version ever since. In the U.S., the model that measures roughly 6½ feet tall and 2½ feet wide retails at $89.99 in white and $109.99 in wood finish. IKEA executives wanted to make the latter version less expensive, too, said Mr. Samuelsson.
Targeting a cost savings of 25% to 30%, Mr. Samuelsson and his colleagues focused on a solution that IKEA had been developing for years: the replacement of wood veneer with paper foil.
IKEA’s wooden furniture isn’t typically made of solid wood. Instead, it has traditionally used veneer, a thin slice of wood less than a millimetre thick that is glued onto a main structure of particleboard. Particleboard is formed from compacted wood chips and sawdust, and is significantly less expensive and lighter than solid wood.
Mr. Samuelsson knew that getting rid of the costly veneer would be key to savings, he said. The paper foil is less expensive, less wasteful and much quicker to apply than veneer, which speeds up the rate of production, Mr. Samuelsson said. Wrapped around the particleboard structure and printed with wood patterns, it looks like a wooden surface, he said.
IKEA first began to develop paper foil for use on its furniture around 2004, and has since steadily made the material less expensive and more reliable, gradually deploying it on other furniture lines, including the Pax wardrobe, one of the company’s bestselling bedroom closets.
By the time Mr. Samuelsson and his team of a dozen designers set about reworking the Billy in 2020, IKEA leaders had enough confidence in the paper foil to use it on their prize bookcase, he said. The Billy redesign brought some functional changes—including the replacement of metal nails with user-friendly plastic fasteners—but the switch from veneer to foil generated the cost savings that managers had been hoping for, he said.
The global rollout of the reworked version of the bookcase—produced in Sweden, Germany, Slovakia and China—has faced obstacles. Factories in Europe were already running at capacity, so the company would need to move slowly and carefully to introduce the new version without disrupting output. IKEA also realised its demand for paper foil would balloon, which required lengthy preparations to help suppliers build up their output.
Production of the new version started last year in China, where the local manufacturer had spare capacity and could implement the new production system sooner. The Billy is the country’s No. 1 IKEA product. There the wood-style bookcase is priced at 499 yuan, equivalent to about $72, down from 699 yuan—a 29% reduction. The white version sells for 399 yuan. The new Billy hits stores in the U.S. and Europe in early 2024.
These kinds of design changes are unlikely to alienate IKEA consumers, who typically don’t focus on how their furniture is made, said Tom Higgs, a furniture designer and lecturer at London’s Brunel University. “IKEA’s customers are looking for affordable, replaceable and convenient furniture,” he said.
For one of IKEA’s most popular office swivel chairs, the Flintan, smaller armrests and less steel and plastic in the back cut manufacturing costs. The new Flintan, which hit stores in 2021, is roughly the same size as its predecessor, but it’s much more efficient to ship after designers tweaked its components to make them fit more snugly into a flat pack. IKEA can now squeeze 6,900 Flintans into one shipping container, up from 2,750.
Even so, the company said that costs have increased so much that it decided to hold the chair’s price at $119 in the U.S. Without the design tweaks, the price would have risen significantly, it said.
IKEA designers likewise reworked the Säbövik bed, available in Europe but not the U.S., by changing the construction of its wooden frame. It was previously made of so-called sandwich board, comprising thin layers of wood glued together. Designers experimented with new material mixes before settling on a less expensive and lighter combination of solid wood, plywood and a compressed structure of wood strands and glue called oriented strand board.
The Säbövik used to come flat-packed in three cardboard boxes, but now fits into just two more compact boxes, enabling the company to cram twice as many flat-packed beds into a shipping container.
Tasked with developing a new extendible dining table that wouldn’t be prohibitively expensive, IKEA designers tried a novel approach.
Earlier IKEA tables typically used solid wood legs for strength and stability. In developing the new Rönninge table, which launched last year, designers created a leg made from hollow wood veneer with solid-wood inserts at the top and bottom to add strength. This approach significantly reduces material and freight costs since each leg now contains 90% less wood than if it had been made of solid wood, the company said. The Rönninge retails at $499 in the U.S.
Victorian auction buyers will soon receive a piece of information that has traditionally been withheld until bidding reaches it: the vendor’s reserve price. Under new property-sale and underquoting laws, agents must publish the agreed reserve at least seven days before an auction or fixed-date sale. Most changes begin on 1 October 2026 and apply to …
Continue reading “Victoria’s New Auction Rules Will Force Reserve Prices Into the Open”
Four decks, 34.5 metres and a made-to-measure interior: step aboard the new Custom Line Navetta 35, unveiled at Cannes.
Could fears of an AI apocalypse be distracting us from the dangers already here? Experts debate whether regulation should focus on speculative existential threats or present-day harms, including cyberattacks, weapons and unsafe autonomous agents. Read more via the link in bio.
There is ample and alarming evidence that artificial intelligence can help humans do bad things, such as committing cyberattacks, building weapons and even killing themselves or others. The Hugging Face hacking episode—and a growing list of others by poorly constrained swarms of agents—indicate just how powerful and potentially dangerous AI has quickly become.
Yet many inside the U.S. AI industry insist far worse is coming, on account of the imminent arrival of AI with superhuman and self-improving abilities.
Plenty of experts, including many who study AI harms for a living, are skeptical. The so-called doomers’ assertion that AI might decide to wipe out all of humanity—or even “just” topple human civilization—is contingent on it achieving a pace of development not yet seen.
And if the assumptions behind this global-doomsday scenario are wrong, it could lead us to curb or regulate AI in ways that don’t address its real harms.
At the center of this debate is the claim that current AI systems might take over the job of training their next versions, a process called “recursive self-improvement.” Think of it like evolution on steroids—billions of years happening at light speed within vast AI supercomputers. Anthropic Chief Executive Dario Amodei recently proposed a global agreement to slow down the pace of releasing new AI models, with the goal of delaying the arrival of recursive self-improvement.
“I don’t think we’re anywhere near ‘artificial general intelligence,’” says Melanie Mitchell, a professor at the nonprofit research group Santa Fe Institute who studies AI. She said AI is making impressive strides but thinks claims by engineers that they’ve achieved recursive self-improvement don’t stand up to scrutiny.
She is hardly alone. A recent paper by two dozen academics at Princeton, Stanford and other institutions found that even the most cutting-edge AIs are incapable of doing the original research required to advance the AI frontier.
Two of the authors involved in that paper also threw cold water on the idea that the Hugging Face swarm hack by OpenAI agents occurred because of a breakthrough in intelligence. The attack succeeded primarily because of a lack of basic technical guardrails, not an unmanageable explosion in AI capability, they wrote.
Yann LeCun, former chief AI scientist at Meta, posted that this analysis was “a welcome dose of sanity in an otherwise insane debate.”
OpenAI and Anthropic didn’t respond to several requests for comment.
The people who disagree with the doomers still consider AI to be dangerous, and point out that such systems don’t have to be particularly capable to be powerful. Some argue that AI should undergo regular evaluation by outsiders and that the companies that make it should be held responsible when their systems do harm. AI should also be treated the same as airplanes and elevators, and should be designed to do the least harm possible, they say.
“If you believe that technology is powerful enough to create novel, dangerous viruses, or to essentially take over the whole planet for some reason, then it must also be strong enough to create cures for cancer, to cure aging, to fix socio-economic or political problems,” says Christopher Canal, CEO of EquiStamp, a company that helps companies and governments evaluate AIs.
AI has shown an ability to rapidly advance because it is matching the abilities of humans who are constantly feeding it their knowledge. Sometimes it can recombine that knowledge and exceed what people have been capable of, through a kind of post-training known as reinforcement learning, as we’ve seen in mathematics.
Today’s LLMs are “models of knowledge” rather than actually intelligent, wrote Yi Ma, professor of AI at Hong Kong University.
Researchers at universities and commercial AI research labs in China wrote in a recent paper that autonomous, self-improving AI is likely to be a long way off, due to the sheer number of breakthroughs required. They also argue that humans will probably remain in the loop, supervising that process—and gating how fast it can occur.
Vals AI, a company that evaluates today’s AI models, maintains an RSI Index that benchmarks whether models can “do the research that builds the next model.” So far, no publicly released model is even close.
Yet Rayan Krishnan, CEO of Vals AI, says his team projects models will exceed humans’ ability to improve the next generation of AIs by August 2027, or sooner, and at that point could start building their successors all on their own.
“Once we get to recursive self-improvement, the fear is that all bets are off,” he says. “You could end up with a ‘fast takeoff’ situation, where the models quickly acquire skills and eclipse humans across every possible domain.”
In a reply to the resignation tweet heard round the world from Jacob Coxon, another Anthropic engineer declared his belief that those odds were at least 10% over the next decade. Many others in the industry chimed in to say they thought the percentage was even higher.
Some who argue the end is nigh say they calculate their personal p(doom) based on a chain of conditional probabilities—a bit like the Drake equation for calculating the likelihood of intelligent alien life. Since all those probabilities are based on speculation, estimates range from 0% to nearly 100%. Many land around 10%.
“The weird thing is that if you go back and look at the predictions on this over the last 10 years or more, it’s always been 10%—it’s just a nice round number,” says Mitchell. “I think it’s all vibes, and there’s no actual evidence or calculation.”
One argument against worrying about superintelligent AI is that the world is full of unlikely humanity-ending disasters, and trying to avert them all can make it impossible to prioritize, says Canal.
This has led AI experts and the policymakers who listen to them to propose remedies that don’t get at its real and present dangers.
AI companies’ proposals to “pace the frontier” aren’t addressing the problem in the right way, argues Stuart Russell, a computer-science professor at the University of California, Berkeley, and the president of the International Association for Safe and Ethical Artificial Intelligence.
“It’s like saying we’re driving toward the cliff at 60 miles per hour and we’re going to drive toward it at 40 miles per hour instead, and everything will be OK,” he says.
Russell and his peers have proposed that AI companies should have to meet the same standards that govern other areas of everyday life, from air travel and buildings to food and drugs. They highlight the “behavioral red lines” AI should not be allowed to cross. Breaking into other computer systems, stealing information or advising terrorists on how to build biological weapons are all illegal for a human to do, and should be illegal for companies’ AIs as well, he argues.
The challenge for AI companies in such a proposal, he adds, is that it would be a de facto ban on today’s advanced AI systems, since the companies behind them don’t know how to make them respect such boundaries all of the time.
Others have proposed something like the Food and Drug Administration, but for AI, but setting up a new agency has so far been a nonstarter in Congress. And some prominent voices in tech have said such a structure would give up America’s AI edge to China.
Given the bipartisan groundswell of support for curbing AI companies and their creations, however, that may soon change.
“The tech industry has had this mantra for decades that regulation is bad,” says Russell. “They don’t accept the liability for any harm, and they hide behind free speech. That, I think, has to change.”
With two waterfronts, bushland surrounds and a $35 million price tag, this Belongil Beach retreat could become Byron’s most expensive home ever.
Australia’s housing market rebounded sharply in 2025, with lower-value suburbs and resource regions driving growth as rate cuts, tight supply and renewed competition reshaped the year.