Designing for the Aging

People still think that elderly means pathetic, uninventive and unfortunate.  Yes, there is the occasional nod to the statistics showing Boomers have more disposable income than Gen Y folks, for instance and people address the fact that the elderly market is the largest market there has ever been, making them a worthy group financially to go after.  Early retirement means that a sizeable part of this market is commercially significant and has the money, and willingness, to pay for design. But that’s often where the story ends.  Before we can really addresses this population, we have to fundamentally shift our view of the aging and rethink our own perceptions.  We need to ask, what is such a market looking for?

Why is that so important?  Because in focusing too intently on designing for this population means, more often than not, that we are in fact designing for ourselves – our preconceived notions of the aged, our subconscious fears or growing old, our cultural biases about what it means to be over 65, etc.  Consequently, I believe that an approach of designing just for the elderly is too narrow and therefore possibly problematic. In a time that people are getting older and older, many over 65 have the physical and mental capacity of people that are twenty years younger, engage in demanding professional endeavors and personal activities, and would hate to be called “elderly.” They might have a different time horizon than younger people but they are not less able. Redesigning a bottle top is one thing, redesigning a dashboard is quite another.

An additional issue is that many of the problems that some elderly face are not unique to them, but also affect a host of other people – the disabled, parents with strollers, young children, people with various health problems, etc. Rather than narrowly focusing on the elderly, a broader approach can helps ensure that the real underlying cause for design addresses a real problem. Beyond being able to address a wider range of markets, there is also a social advantage: people don’t feel excluded or singled out.

It’s also important to remember that like all people, being older doesn’t mean that your world is restricted to interaction with a single, similar population.  People do not exist in vacuums.  Yes, I’ll say it again – CONTEXT IS EVERYTHING. Elderly populations are part of a shared community that spans age cohorts and easy classification.  Consequently, you are not designing for the elderly, but rather a host of interactions and agents.

With these overarching considerations, what, then, are some of the specific things to keep in mind as you design? There are several.

  •  Avoid designing “special” products for elderly people. Most elderly people are not disabled. There are exceptions, of course, but typically it is the condition of the disability, not the age of the user that is the issue. A shoe, a telephone or a saucepan designed for a disabled foot or hand may not suit an elderly foot or hand, designing for an elderly hand or foot to the exclusion of other populations will certainly not suit the broader population. Provided elderly people are considered at the right life stage, most products should be suitable for young and old. Design for the young and you exclude the old. Design for the old and you include the young.  You also run the risk of leaving your would be elderly clientele feel singled out.  While this may make a population feel catered to, it also runs the risk of feeling like pandering.
  • Good body use (what we should do) is far more important than what we can do. Ergonomic data may demonstrate what the body is capable of reaching. It is not part of design or ergonomic education to know whether such actions are healthy or natural. Elderly people may be able to reach a certain height, but should they?  The same can be asked of children. Peter Laslett, demonstrated not only the special potential of people in the “Third Age” but also some of the similarities between older and younger people. Provided certain things are understood, products for elderly people can suit younger ones, too.
  • Remember what, where, when, who and how. With the exception of hermits, the elderly do not in complete isolation. They are part of the broader social dialog and members of the cultural milieu. As such, designing for the elderly all too often revolves around methods and assumptions that treat this population as if they were lab experiments or living in complete isolation.  Products live shared lives as do the people who use them. That means designing with multiple users in mind and designing according to the contexts in which products will be used.
Advertisements

Liminality and Shopping: Retail as a Shrine of Shopping

You will not find the term “liminality” in many dictionaries. For instance, at last check it is not in the Second Edition of the Oxford English Dictionary. The Oxford English Dictionary does, however, have an entry for “liminal,” the adjectival form, which it lists as a rare usage: “Of or pertaining to the threshold or initial stage of a process.” Both liminal and liminality are derived from the Latin “limen,” which means “threshold”—that is, the bottom part of a doorway that must be crossed when entering a building.  And it is this notion of a doorway, or passage from one space to another, and the consequences of doing so, that matters to consumption and shopping, because in a world where the procurement of goods is increasingly simple the act of transforming a person from one state of being to another is more and more important.  We no longer sell just goods, we sell something much more profound – or we hope to, at least.

As a brief refresher, it was not until the second half of the 20th century, that the terms “liminal” and “liminality” gained popularity through the writings of Victor Turner. Turner borrowed and expanded upon Van Gennep’s concept of liminality, ensuring widespread usage of the concept in anthropology.

In 1967, Turner noted that “the subject of passage ritual is, in the liminal period, structurally, if not physically, ‘invisible’” (1967: 95). That is, the status of liminal individuals is socially and structurally ambiguous. From this he further developed the idea.  “Liminality may perhaps be regarded as the Nay to all positive structural assertions, but as in some sense the source of them all, and, more than that, as a realm of pure possibility whence novel configurations of ideas and relations may arise” (1967: 97).

Fundamentally, the idea is relatively simple.  When a person is in a liminal state, she or he is betwixt and between the positions assigned and arrayed by law, custom, convention, and ceremony.  Their roles in the cosmic order are ambiguous. He then goes on to name this state of non-structure or anti-structure through such concepts as the “realm of pure possibility” and structural invisibility. He chooses the Latin term “communitas” to express this idea of anti-structure, and refers to social structure and communitas as two major models for human interrelatedness.” 

The first model is of society as a structured, differentiated, and often hierarchical system of politico-legal-economic positions with many types of evaluation, separating men in terms of “more” or “less.” The second, which emerges recognizably in the liminal period, is of society as an unstructured or rudimentarily structured and relatively undifferentiated comitatus, community, or even communion of equal individuals who submit together to the general authority of the ritual elders.

Yes, yes.  All very interesting, but what does it have to do with consumption and shopping?  Shopping is, at a functional level, about getting things we need – food, clothing, shelter, etc.  But if it were as simple as that we wouldn’t have specialty stores.  We wouldn’t spend hours rummaging around a bookstore when we could simply order the product online.  As the outlets for acquisition have expanded with the growth of broadband, the nature of shopping has changed.  It is as much about fulfilling social, cultural and psychological needs and desires as it is anything else, perhaps more so. Which means it is often a transformational act of a transitory nature that takes us from one state of being to another, if only for a short while. And it is at the gateway that we find the symbols that successfully transition of from one state to another.  Retailers who do this well (Abercrombe, Anthropologie, Swatch) become points of destination and alter the nature of interaction, both with the store and with fellow shoppers, at the point of entry into their space.  They set the stage where shopping becomes akin to a rite of passage.  It signals that we have entered a special place and while we’re there, we are not the same person we were on the street.

The idea that the passage of the magical threshold is a transit into a new sphere of reconfigurement of who and what we are is symbolized by the gateway and harkens back to the worldwide womb image of myth.  It is the hero entering the belly of the whale and emerging transformed, carrying special knowledge or objects that can only be found by going through the passage.  This is why the approaches to temples are flanked by guardian symbols – dragons, angles, sword-wielding demon slayers.  These are the threshold guardians used to ward off those incapable of encountering the higher silences within. They illustrate the fact that the devotee at the moment of entry into the temple undergoes a metamorphosis.  Similarly, in a cultural construct where shopping and consumption have taken on the role of defining personal meaning, the threshold at the store signals a metamorphosis into the stylistically elite.  Those entering the space understand that they are unlike those outside the space and have entered a place that is beyond the confines of the mundane, daily life.  And like the hero, once having crossed the threshold, the postmodern shopper moves into a dream landscape of often curiously fluid, ambiguous forms.  It is here that shopping becomes something bigger than consumption.  It is here that the trial, the hunt, the act of self-becoming takes place, turning shopping into an expression of self-worth and of profound worth to the tribe (the family, the peer group, etc.).

Thinking about a shopping space and the symbolic cues to which we respond at the outset of the shopping journey means taking a more subtle view of how we promote our wares. Rather than screaming “low, low prices,” it means thinking about shopping and spatial design as promoting a change in the people to whom we would sell.  And it means putting as much though into the store front as it does the size of type on an end cap.  It means thinking of both the entry and the space as transitional, transformational structures that compel the shopper to alter his or her sense of being.  And this is where loyalty comes from.  Just as most people do not hop from on house of worship every week, let alone from faith to faith, so too should they feel compelled to return to your space again and again.

Liminality is almost always a temporary phenomenon. That is not to say that the temporal nature of liminality should be one of its defining characteristics. Rather, human nature being the way it is means that liminality cannot be permanent. Either we are absorbed into the social structure or we shun it all together—we cannot remain betwixt and between.  But liminality can be something that draws people back to a retailer time and again.  It turns shopping beyond the ordinary and signals that your space is beyond the daily grind.  It signals a place of rebirth.