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05.31.2002

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Achieving Wellness By Design -or- "daddy, Why Aren't Grocery Stores Round?"

Recently, I found myself headed to Portland, Oregon, to complete several rounds of participant observation research at popular grocery retailers in the area. Since my chronically underemployed girlfriend happened to have the weekend off, I dragged her along for moral support, promising to treat her a decent dinner when the days' work was complete. The promise of dinner was crucial, for she had long since tired of visiting, analyzing and talking about grocery stores. What seemed like a blessing on our first date ("Oh...you like to do the grocery shopping? Cool...") had quickly turned into a bitter curse - simply uttering the words "grocery store" was enough to make her shudder. So it was with understandable trepidation that I approached the entrance to the first store: "If you get bored, just come let me know," I offered sympathetically, and then, backpedaling, "but I think they are supposed to have a coffee shop or something, so maybe you can hang out there and read or relax."

I had been in the store observing customer interactions for about 45 minutes when something very strange happened. I looked up to notice my girlfriend smiling and holding out a basket of items that included artichokes, facial cream, cards for far-off birthdays, a stuffed toy for an as-of-yet-to-be-born second cousin and a bottle of pills made from, of all things, fish oil. Even though she had little money and had grown to detest shopping in grocery stores, she was rolling along at a nice clip. Perhaps more puzzling, she seemed to actually be enjoying herself.Not wanting to pass up such a great opportunity, I begged her to think about why she was having such a nice time at this particular grocery store. So began the inquisition:

"Is it the 'salad-bar' style cosmetics display? Is it the library filled with information kiosks? Is it the sight of oversized eggplants stacked eight feet high? What is it about this place? Do tell..."

As is (all too) often the case, I received the stock "I'm not really sure... it's just something I feel" response - a cop-out if ever there was one. Fast-forward to dinner: While we were eyeing the menu, she blurted out, "It's the layout!

"You know, the grocery store we visited today that I liked so much...it's laid out differently than most, it doesn't resemble a library. Libraries are tired, dreary and musty. That place was alive, I got to weave my way down a winding path, and I didn't even see the cash registers until I had made my way to the end!"

Thinking back to my visit earlier that afternoon, I realized just how dead-on she was. Instead of resembling a giant rectangle with rows of shelves and aisles intersecting at 90-degree angles, which could appropriately describe a conventional grocery store, a library or a prison, this store offered something very different: a series of thematically oriented departments and sections engineered into the floor plan in a nonlinear fashion, a fluid ever-changing retailscape with no visible evidence of those pesky 90-degree angles. Best of all, these physical and aesthetic changes to the dominant form were tacit - it was as if this was the way things were supposed to be.

Though my girlfriend was ready to attribute her "positive experiences" to these design alterations, I decided to investigate further. While it certainly sounded like a plausible explanation, I also realized that - like most sociologist - I don't know much about much of anything. So the following Monday I picked up the phone and began harassing my friends in the design and architecture world.

The architect friends, as it happened, weren't very helpful. They explained that most grocery stores resemble libraries and prisons because "functionalism and rationality, the bastard stepchildren of the modernist movement, have infiltrated every corner of our collective psyche..." All of this reminded me why I seldom visit my architect friends. Fortunately, I had better luck on the design front. My conceptual designer pals suggested that my girlfriend was, indeed, quite correct to chalk up her positive experience to the physical design of the store. While they, too, had a bunch of fancy arguments, they also pointed out that straight lines intersecting at 90-degree angles are rarely found in the natural world, so it only stands to reason that folks would feel more comfortable in the "new" grocery store described above (i.e., despite our best efforts to the contrary, we do remain creatures of the natural world).

As to the next logical question: Will the enlightened few who break with tradition serve as role models for the next step up the evolutionary ladder in grocery retailing? - I remain silent. This much, I do know. The physical design changes in the store described above appear to produce less monotonous, more energized and happier consumer experiences, and if my girlfriend's reactions are any indication, shoppers even appear to feel better. Isn't that what wellness is all about?

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