Selfridges, the 4th floor & the bid for our humanity

Global Trends

I’ve been feeling a bit uneasy about the world we live in today. It seems like we’re neglecting the very things that make us human, all in the relentless pursuit of money. The saying “If you’re not growing, you’re dying” has pushed us into a frenzied race toward a cold, emotionless victory.

Just the other day, I walked over 30 minutes to Arome, my mind buzzing with thoughts of their honey toast, spinach quiche, and matcha latte. I had already mapped out my plan: head to the fourth floor of Selfridges to enjoy my meal before finding my new foundation color. It was perfect—Arome is always packed, and Selfridges was just a quick 30-second stroll away. I could grab a bite and run my errands all in one go. As I made my way to Selfridges, all I could think about was the warm crunch of that honey toast. I hopped on the escalator, eager to find the food hall that used to have a Starbucks, but when I got there, it was nowhere to be found. Confused, I wandered around until I finally asked someone for help. She looked just as puzzled as I was and said, “I don’t think we ever had a food hall.” I thought she must be mistaken, so I asked another person, who confirmed, “Oh yeah, it’s been removed to expand the shop floor.”

In that moment, a wave of sadness washed over me. I couldn’t believe it. I walked to where the food hall used to be, only to find it transformed into more stalls and shops. Suddenly, it hit me: the food hall was more than just a place to eat; it was a symbol of humanity. It represented a space where Selfridges acknowledged our need to connect, relax, and recharge. It was their way of saying, “We care about your well-being. It’s not just about shopping; we know you might need a break.” Realizing that this little piece of care had been sacrificed for more retail space made me wonder: is everything really just about revenue? Do they not care if I’m tired? What if I just want to grab a coffee and read a book? It felt like they were sending a message that Selfridges was only a place to spend money and leave—no room for rest. That was heartbreaking.

I know this might not resonate with everyone, but for me, that food hall meant something significant. After about 30 minutes of disappointment, I found myself on the lower floor, sitting in a corner of the furniture shop to eat. Unfortunately, with no space for my matcha latte, it spilled all over the light brown wooden floor. My excitement for the honey toast had vanished, and my plan for a peaceful moment of enjoyment was abruptly derailed.

I’ve started noticing this trend in other places too. For example, the M&S next to my building recently replaced their tills with more stalls. It makes me question whether we, as a society, are caring less about our humanity. Sure, revenue is important, but people can sense when all you care about is taking from them. A lack of care leads to a sterile society where people feel uninspired, depressed, and disconnected.

Right now, as companies over-optimize for revenue at the expense of human connection, they risk losing the very thing that keeps their brand alive. In the end, how people feel is everything. Yes, it might feel risky to invest in the human aspect, but it’s what builds brand loyalty, higher spend per customer and elevates our basic human experience. In a world increasingly driven by consumerism, brands that prioritize the value of human connection and customer well-being, are the brands that will thrive.