When you work in the luxury furniture business and meet clients on a daily basis, you experience a lot. But sometimes you experience a bit too much. For example, you witness a lot of couples arguing and calling each other names—and I don’t mean nice ones. And you witness a lot of couples making up and again calling each other names—now I mean the nice ones! Also, you have to deal with people who have absolutely no idea about how much, or little, 10sq m are but still, they expect you to turn their kitchen the size of a broom closet into a cuisine that would befit the White House. So in short, what you’ve got to put up with is a huge variety of personalities. But sometimes clients fit into two main stereotypes.
The Minivantons—“Is this the indoor-playground for kids?”
Embodying the image of the perfect, happy family, they usually drive up in a minivan on a Saturday morning inclined to buy furniture for their recently built child-safe house—all well and good, so far. But, when they let their 2.5 kids loose in your showroom, the real work begins.
As soon as they enter the showroom, Mr. and Mrs. Minivanton hand over their parental responsibilities to you and now you are the one who’s in charge of keeping an eye on the kids, noisily romping through your showroom. But since we are interior designers not kindergarten teachers, we usually fear more for the furniture than for the kids’ safety. Occasionally, my patience got stretched a bit too far and I was on the verge of screaming: “Ok, now if you little rascals don’t stop plastering our high-gloss Poggenpohl kitchen with your tiny, greasy fingerprints, I’m gonna lock you in the Interlübke S07 closet. It’s got so many features; probably it’s even soundproof!”
But seriously, I often wondered if people actually knew that they were sitting in a design studio for luxury furniture. There’s a lot you can do with furniture nowadays, but you can’t tame a Ferrari and turn it into a Bobby Car—and you wouldn’t want to either. I’m not saying that designer furniture and kids are mutually exclusive—have a look at Lava by Cor—but I would be lying if I said that they are a perfect match.
Unfortunately, some parents never seem to take off their rose-colored glasses. So, should you ever be in a position similar to mine and get a visit from the Minivantons, here’s some advice to make their stay more relaxing for you: as long as the kids are screaming, nothing has been broken—yet.
But seriously, I often wondered if people actually knew that they were sitting in a design studio for luxury furniture. There’s a lot you can do with furniture nowadays, but you can’t tame a Ferrari and turn it into a Bobby Car—and you wouldn’t want to either. I’m not saying that designer furniture and kids are mutually exclusive—have a look at Lava by Cor—but I would be lying if I said that they are a perfect match.
Unfortunately, some parents never seem to take off their rose-colored glasses. So, should you ever be in a position similar to mine and get a visit from the Minivantons, here’s some advice to make their stay more relaxing for you: as long as the kids are screaming, nothing has been broken—yet.
Donald Trump—“Tell me girl, how much is the world?”
The Donald Trump type doesn’t simply arrive at your showroom, he appears. He usually parks his car right in front of the entrance, after all, who cares about the ticket if one’s driving a Jaguar, right? Then he pauses at the entrance, casting a graceful glance to the left and to the right, and with this he’s there. It’s his whole demeanor that seems to scream: “I’ve got the money, now sell me something beautiful.” The Donald Trump type hardly ever brags with looks. Believe me, if you see an Opel driving up and the first thing that hits the ground in the parking lot are MBT slippers, you hardly expect to sell a €64,000 designer kitchen to the human being wearing these shoes—but such things do happen. So, remember the first important rule when it comes down to rich clients: don’t let looks deceive you—ever.
In general, our relationship to the Donald Trump type is a satisfying symbiosis. He gets a newly furnished house with the most exclusive pieces of furniture, and we interior designers can go on a real planning spree without ever thinking about the price. We can plan new Bang & Olufsen sound systems, couches like Nuba and armchairs like Ophelia, walls of books with Studimo, entrance halls using Schoenbuch equipment and even €64,000 kitchens including a bar with AP stools. We can let our creativity run wild without maxing out our client’s card—it’s a dream come true and, in the end, everyone’s happy.
This brings me to my final, but most astonishing lesson about clients: apparently, if you have enough money, the question is not why you should buy a particular piece of furniture but simply why not.
Now, what does this mean for our luxury furniture showroom?—Children must be leashed and billionaires are welcome.
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