Exit Strategy: Designing for Delight, Not Departure
“Design is about delivering a satisfying experience. It’s not about a process. It’s not about the product. It’s about an experience.” — Tim Brown
Welcome to the Inaugural Article of Experience by Design
Welcome to “Experience by Design,” a new publication dedicated to exploring the nuances of physical experience design — a field too often overlooked. As an experienced UX designer and someone deeply sensitive to aesthetics (thanks to a Libra stellium), I’ve become acutely aware of how physical environments impact our well-being. This publication aims to delve into these subtleties, making the case for intentional and thoughtful design in our everyday spaces.
So after much accidental anthropological research (i.e., me just living my life and trying to vibe), I’ve come to realize that many establishments treat ‘the guest’ more as an abstract concept than an actual priority. Despite supposedly catering to guests, many organizations seem thoughtless about the very people they’re meant to serve. They focus on maximizing sales while generally failing to empathize with their intended patrons. This creates an experience that pushes visitors to the exit as quickly as possible rather than one where they feel encouraged to willingly and happily spend money for prolonged periods of time. This oversight can really taint an experience, as I discovered first-hand during a night out at what was supposed to be one of London’s “best” clubs.
A Night to Remember (For All the Wrong Reasons)
The story begins with a rather invasive pat-down at the entrance. Yes, it was wise to pair me with a female security guard. No, that didn’t make her jabbing my crotch (and my entire body, for that matter) with her hand feel any better. Gross. To put things into perspective, my randomly selected past airport checks have been more kosher than this. In other words, this felt less like a safety precaution and more like a violation. I was very glad to hurry out of the security area, wishing nothing more than to listen to some good music to forget about this start.
As my friend and I made our way to the actual club area of the venue we made a quick pit stop at the coat check on the way. I merrily stuffed my thin sweater into my jacket sleeve and passed my jacket to the coat-check worker. GASP! I couldn’t believe it — they were demanding £5 per item, an abomination at best. I begrudgingly paid the 10 quid fee for my fabric and carried on. With this rough start, I hoped the worst was over, but the night had just begun.
Upon entering the club, I breathed a sigh of relief as I took in the space’s ambience. Red lights, cool. We love. Ah, but I have to pee! So, we scurried to the bathroom as I anticipated a nice and relaxing moment of sitting.
Squeezing my way into the narrow stall, I immediately contemplated other bathroom options while playing a dangerous round of the “holding it in” game. My next move was clear. I stepped over to the toilet, which was awkwardly jammed between the wall and an oversized garbage can. How could this be? I was forced to contort uncomfortably and cross my legs just to fit. The relaxing break I was hoping for was overtaken by thoughts of how big my butt felt on the tiny toilet seat. Ugh! Whoever designed this bathroom designed it with their feet (a favourite Romanian expression). After a hasty flush, I was more than ready to hit the dance floor.
We tried the main room, but the music just wasn’t doing it for us. Next, we ventured into a second room. Industrial open-pipe design? Nice. Red lights again? Even nicer. Music with a bit of groove and rhythm to it? We’re three for three, baby, nice! The problem? It was freezing! The AC was cranked up to full blast, which made no sense considering : 1) the room was sparsely populated, so there wasn’t enough body heat to counter the cold air, and 2) it was March, hardly the time of year when people crave cold air. Sigh.
Our hope for a better experience in the third available room was quickly dashed by overwhelming strobe lights, although the music was surprisingly decent. The real issue here, though, was the cramped space, and I did not spend £50 to live out the next hours of my life as a sardine. We eventually retreated to a chill area, which was also aggressively air conditioned, to reassess our situation. Considering we had already spent so much money on the night, we decided not to give up just yet and gave each dance floor another try. However, when my friend and I got shoved into a wall as we tried to find a spot to dance, we exchanged looks and realized that our two hours at this club were two hours too many. Ironically, this so-called “best club in London” turned out to be one of the worst clubbing experiences of my life.
Reflecting on the Importance of Thoughtful Design
This night underscored a crucial truth for me: even minor design choices can have major impacts on the guest experience. Why was no one questioning these design flaws? Was it simply drunken complacency among the guests, or something more systemic at play? Were the issues merely the result of profit-driven business decisions, or indicative of a deeper disregard for guest comfort? Furthermore, in a venue as large as this, capable of hosting over a thousand people, how had the design failed so profoundly to create spaces that encourage meaningful interactions? The absence of thoughtfully designed communal areas, comfortable seating, and even adequate restroom facilities was glaring. Each oversight, each corner cut in design, not only diminished the club’s atmosphere but also its potential to foster connections among its patrons. As a designer, I found these details impossible to overlook — they were lessons in what not to do and reminders of the transformative power of good design.
Creating “Experience by Design” was born out of a necessity to highlight the importance of physical experience design. While plenty of publications discuss architecture, interior design and digital UX design, few address how the holistic experience of a space can impact our mood and health. This publication will explore how thoughtful design can enhance well-being, inspire us, and facilitate connections that enrich our lives.
So, how do we start building community spaces that make people feel good and also foster genuine connections? Follow this publication as we explore this question and more. If you’re interested in contributing or sharing your experiences, please reach out. Together, let’s demonstrate how great design is not just seen — it’s felt.
