Visiting The Pokemon Pop-Up Shop By Myself Would’ve Been Unbearable
A seven-hour wait in Westfield London gave way to a half-hearted shopping experience that left a sour taste in my mouth — but the person I did it with made it all worthwhile.
Out of bed at 5:30 AM. On a train by 6:30. Arrive in London at 7:45. Straight onto the underground at rush-hour, crammed in among the city’s usual commuters. Off the tube by 8:15 and straight into Westfield shopping centre. You might think that my girlfriend and I were right on track for a place near the front of the line for London’s own Pokemon pop-up shop, which wasn’t even due to open for the day until 10:00 AM. You would, unfortunately, be wrong.
In fact, Abbey and I joined the end of a line that already wrapped nearly the entire way around Westfield’s expansive first floor. The most intrepid Pokemon fans, the real die-hards who hoped to be in with a chance of nabbing an exclusive London Pikachu plush (complete with twee bowler hat), had started queuing at 4:00 AM.
We had expected this — especially since mainstream news outlets like Metro were irresponsibly reporting that the only way to ensure you got into the store during its limited run was to show up in the wee hours of the morning — but nonetheless, it was disheartening. We thought that maybe, given that the October half-term was over and the shop had been open for more than a week, the frenzy might have died down. Clearly not. Still, we were prepared. We had snacks, sandwiches, drinks. Abbey had her 3DS to play Pokemon (what else?). I had my phone and my superhuman ability to daydream so hard I practically astral-project. And so, we waited.
The queue itself was well-organised, which is about the only positive thing I can say about it. It was actually broken up into six separate queues, each one leading into the next, so that every time people were let into the shop you were able to shuffle forward, advancing glacially towards the next stage. Staff members in high visibility jackets urged people to fill in every possible inch of space, a practice which presumably created more room at the very back of the line, but when I was already pressed up against a stranger’s back and a steward was aggressively yelling at me to carry on moving forward, it started to feel like those few inches of room might not be worth it. Scratch that, they definitely weren’t worth it. One particular steward was so “insistent” every time she came upon us, I had to wonder if we had in some way wronged her personally. Maybe a Pokemon fan punched a baby in front of her once. Whatever the reason, this woman was like the dementor of line stewards. I caught her eye at one point and I’m pretty sure I experienced what it’s like to be dead. I briefly considered sacrificing one of the surrounding crowd members to try and appease her. 10/10 customer service, to be honest. I’ll be sending my compliments to her supervisor.
Sometimes we would move forward after waiting two or three minutes; sometimes it was twenty-five. I can only guess that it depended on how long people were spending in the shop, which kind of made me wish people were allowed in under some kind of time limit. Selfish, maybe, but then weren’t the people spending 45 minutes wandering aimlessly through the store being a little selfish? They were actively keeping other fans from the experience, whether intentionally or not. And let’s face it, it probably was intentional. You know that guy walking past with the 5ft tall Pikachu plush wasn’t buying it because he wanted it, he was buying it to stop me from having it. “Oh wow, they do hats like the one Ash wears in the cartoon? And they’re all going to be sold out by the time I get into the shop? Perfect!”
It wasn’t until hour six of our wait that I actually saw the shop for the first time, and honestly if Pikachu hadn’t been plastered across the front, I might have assumed it was an on-trend clothing store — nothing about the entire design really screamed “Pokemon” to me. And when we finally got inside, well… I can’t say it was worth the wait.
The limited run of London Pikachu stock had been picked clean within a few hours of the shop opening; by the time we got in there, they only had tote bags left. Good quality tote bags, made of sturdy fabric with little zips to hold them closed, but still. Tote bags. Various posters of each region, stylised to look like something you’d see in a travel agent’s window, were also pretty much gone, with only the Kanto version still up for grabs. T-shirts and hoodies were XXL sizes only, a little much for my 5'10", 125lb frame. There were a few key rings of Sword and Shield’s new starter Pokemon, but for £9.50 a pop they didn’t seem a wise investment. And so it went. The shop wasn’t even that big inside, made up of only two rooms on the ground floor, and there was barely a cursory effort to actually incorporate Pokemon into its design. I know it was only a pop-up shop, but it was so flimsy it felt more like a market stall.
Once we were done shopping, we headed upstairs to try an exclusive demo of the game (and for a quick photo-op). Despite reports suggesting there might be a wait, we got to play the game immediately, with no wait for an available console, and once a staff member made sure we knew what we were doing we were left in peace to get started. The demo was fairly standard fare: we were dropped into a gym with a ready-to-go team of level 50 Pokemon, and had to make our way to the end by fighting other trainers and activating switches to clear paths through a watery maze. It was fun, to be honest. It wasn’t surprising, but it was Pokemon, and that’s all I really wanted or expected from it. Disappointingly the demo ended right before you fight the gym leader, but that was also to be expected. Need to leave some things to the imagination, I guess.
Bizarrely, the demo experience was marred by the fact I was literally prevented from leaving by a staff member who tried to force pre-orders on Abbey and myself. We explained we already had pre-orders and he started actively encouraging us to cancel them and reorder with him for a 10% discount and a commemorative set of pins. When we still politely declined he went after my appearance and demeanour, telling me that I was getting a bit red in the face and that maybe I should “calm down”. At this point, I literally turned my back on him and left, but you have to wonder how many other visitors felt straight-up intimidated into pre-ordering a game they might already have bought elsewhere. Salespeople, unsurprisingly, are the worst.
All in all, the shopping experience itself left me incredibly sour. I’d waited for seven hours to browse overpriced stuffed toys and clothes I couldn’t wear, and it was my fault because I hadn’t shown up at 4 in the morning to beat the crowds. That being said, the experience overall? Getting up early, taking a bunch of unfamiliar trains, finding our way to the shop and listening to a bunch of strangers talk about Pokemon? It felt an awful lot like an adventure, and that was down to the fact I went with Abbey.
While queuing anywhere for [ahem] SEVEN hours will leave you a little cranky, the fact I had Abbey there to talk to, make jokes with, play games with… it meant it didn’t really feel like seven hours. Sure, maybe the actual activity turned out not to be worth it, but now we can say we were part of the tiny percentage of people who saw the London Pokemon pop-up shop. We were two of the few who persevered in that painfully slow queue even when people in front of us bailed out to go and enjoy any one of London’s many other attractions. We’re some of the only people who’ll ever own that London Pikachu tote bag (yes, fine, we bought the stupid tote bag). And despite everything, I had a great time.
So if you decide to brave the capitalist hell of any pop-up shop in your lifetime, I guess that would be my advice to you. Go with somebody who makes every mundane task in your life feel like an adventure. I could have fun grocery shopping with Abbey, or breaking down on a motorway, or walking along a beach, or standing in a queue for seven hours just to buy a dumb Sobble plush for double what it’s worth. And, in a way, that’s kind of what Pokemon is really about — it doesn’t matter where you’re going, as long as you find someone along the way that makes the journey worthwhile.
