"Baby Björn is actually Swedish?" asked a coworker when I mentioned my trip to the Swedish Embassy. He assumed that, like so many other catchy product names, 'Björn' was the result of extensive market testing: "I thought they just used a Swedish name cuz they're all ergonomic and European-looking."
But no, the Baby Björn company is extremely Swedish, named after the father who founded the company in 1961. And so when they wrote to Babble, offering to whisk me from New York to D.C. for lunch at the new Swedish Embassy, how could I refuse? I figured that the food alone would be worth it. So I packed up my crappy camera and dragged myself onto an 8 a.m. train, ready to learn everything I ever wanted to know about Scandinavian baby products.
I don't have a lot of experience with Embassies, but apparently the Swedish Embassy (a.k.a. House of Sweden) is unusual, in that it's largely open to the public. The building, which hugs the Potomac River, is sleek but unassuming, with a stark interior of 
Mmm, Swedish lunch.
The Baby Björn exhibit in the Swedish Embassy. Every disembodied blue torso needs one!
The Potomac River, where George Washington once threw something.
glass and Canadian maple. I must admit, I was expecting something a bit more regal — doesn't Sweden have a monarchy and whatnot? — but I'd soon learn that extraneous details are simply not the Swedish way.
After meeting the Baby Björn people (most of them approximately twice my height), the first thing on my agenda was lunch. Excellent. We had a yummy but predictable buffet of Swedish meatballs, smoked salmon, lingonberries, potatoes, and something that I swear they called "Pinnochio cake." (Whatever it was, I had seconds.) Joining us for lunch was the Swedish Ambassador to the United States, who I'll bet is pretty sick of meatballs and lingonberries. I wouldn't blame him if he snuck a burger under the table.
Next, the other guests and I were ushered into a lecture hall for a presentation about the wild, scandalous world of Baby Björn. Okay, so it's not so wild. But it's very ergonomic! First up was Lisa Thoren, the granddaughter of founder Björn Jakobson. Once upon a time, Lisa was the messy eater who inspired the Baby Björn bib — that plastic one with the lip that catches food. (Realizing this, I wished I'd watched her more closely during lunch.) "In Sweden," she told us, "everyone uses the plastic bib. But in America, we have a cultural difference where people haven't realized the value and convenience of the plastic bib." She seemed quite exasperated with our American insistence on non-Björn bibs — you'd think it would be enough that every single person in New York has a Baby Björn carrier. Seriously, I'm pretty sure I know childless people who have those things, just in case they need to carry something squirmy on their chests.
©2007 Gwynne Watkins and Nerve Media
About the Author
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Babble editor Gwynne Watkins is a Brooklyn-based writer whose work has appeared both online and in print. She is a consulting editor at Nerve.com, as well as a playwright and a lyricist. Her most recent show, the children's musical Space Pirates, premiered in May. |
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