How Aldi's Middle Aisle Broke My Brain (and What Kiwi Brands Can Learn)
You can keep your sleek brand pyramids and customer loyalty heatmaps. I want to talk about the middle aisle of Aldi.
I was in Berlin last month, a city that smells vaguely of bread and rebellion, when I wandered into an Aldi for cheap bananas and toothpaste. What I left with was a waterproof metal detector and, oddly, a new respect for retail choreography. That middle aisle, casually stocked with electric pasta machines and inflatable kayaks, has no right to work. But it does. Beautifully. It's like a roulette wheel meets a National Geographic gift shop. And here's the kicker: this overt randomness seduces customers weekly—even if they swear they’re only there for milk.
New Zealand brands should take notes. Not to sell milk next to kayaks, but to embrace the underused power of playful unpredictability. We are deadly serious in our retail experiences here. From Queen Street to Riccarton, stores lean into minimalism, consistency, and a beige kind of safety. There’s loyalty in routine, yes, but there’s magic in the unexpected. Only a few, like Huffer or Honest Wolf, flirt with surprise. The rest are trying to be David Jones on diazepam.
Imagine if your local outdoor brand dropped a limited run of hiking gear inspired by a science fiction novel. Or if a skincare brand collaborated with an oyster shucker from Bluff just because they both believe in exfoliation. Madness? Maybe. But Aldi’s middle aisle reminded me: customers don’t just buy what they need. They buy what makes them curious. Give people a reason to linger, and they’ll walk out with a kayak.
I was in Berlin last month, a city that smells vaguely of bread and rebellion, when I wandered into an Aldi for cheap bananas and toothpaste. What I left with was a waterproof metal detector and, oddly, a new respect for retail choreography. That middle aisle, casually stocked with electric pasta machines and inflatable kayaks, has no right to work. But it does. Beautifully. It's like a roulette wheel meets a National Geographic gift shop. And here's the kicker: this overt randomness seduces customers weekly—even if they swear they’re only there for milk.
New Zealand brands should take notes. Not to sell milk next to kayaks, but to embrace the underused power of playful unpredictability. We are deadly serious in our retail experiences here. From Queen Street to Riccarton, stores lean into minimalism, consistency, and a beige kind of safety. There’s loyalty in routine, yes, but there’s magic in the unexpected. Only a few, like Huffer or Honest Wolf, flirt with surprise. The rest are trying to be David Jones on diazepam.
Imagine if your local outdoor brand dropped a limited run of hiking gear inspired by a science fiction novel. Or if a skincare brand collaborated with an oyster shucker from Bluff just because they both believe in exfoliation. Madness? Maybe. But Aldi’s middle aisle reminded me: customers don’t just buy what they need. They buy what makes them curious. Give people a reason to linger, and they’ll walk out with a kayak.