Why I Like MUJI
A MUJI designer once described its aesthetic to be the most universal Japanese idea, one where the product assumed the smallest quantity, but highest quality of design. MUJI aims to be an able support to a user’s life, rather than the driving force of it. Its products reflect the needs of the consumer as plainly as possible, without forcing any personality. It’s why I admire MUJI for being a truly minimal brand, one that walks the line between the inconspicuous and forgettable.
MUJI began, true to its nature, in a similarly understated way: Japanese Supermarket house-brand sales dropped in the 80s, being perceived as cheap and poor quality. To remedy this, basic products were launched, packaged in simple-yet-tasteful colours, and released in fashionable, upscale outlets in Japan. The MUJI look was born, and true to its meaning (no brand goods), it became a known brand, by simply not being branded at all. It became commonplace to see a good, unbranded product and instantlyknow that it’s MUJI.
What I find most admirable about the MUJI aesthetic is restraint: most of its products usually come in brown, white or black, and only rarely is the signature MUJI red used, resulting in packaging that’s instantly identifiable, and yet not overwhelming. The MUJI design comes from the undocumented needs and sensitivities of life, leading to an imagination and implementation of the shapes and structures that people need. The MoMa recognized Wall Mounted CD player is a good example of this: removing unnecessary materials, the final result is functional, intuitive and nearly invisible. MUJI underlines careful creativity, and aims to build towards a consumer’s world-view or life philosophy.
Eventually, the MUJI brand grows beyond a need to be minimal, to an advocation of rational consumerism. MUJI products strive not just to be good, but good enough, a significant difference. MUJI products don’t follow cyclical upgrades, and try to cater most needs, but not all (for example, quilts from MUJI come in just one colour, white, since that’s what most people buy anyway).
For me, knowing that a brand like MUJI exists is a comforting presence in a world that cherishes flash, sensationalism and a culture of bigger-is-better. MUJI refreshingly comes across as reasonable and mature, arriving at solutions from a point of simplicity, rather than economics. It’s a return to the classic genesis of a product: understanding a necessary concern, and finding a good enough way to fulfill it. As a MUJI designer puts it,
MUJI advocates the use of those qualities essential to Japanese aesthetics: being Essential, Minimal and Anonymous
