Sunday Express - An Ode to Lakeland

Lakeland is a kitchen and homeware company with 35 shops and a thriving mail-order business. But it's much, much more than that. Over the years it's become a Middle-England cult, with enthusiastic devotees. When I canvassed opinions among my friends, the responses were uniformly gushing. 'My loyalty to them is total,' announced Katie. 'I wouldn't dream of buying anything for my kitchen anywhere else.' 'Just looking at the catalogue makes me feel cheery and domesticated,' said Gemma, 'it's like a window into a world where everything's calm, ordered and safe.' 'Don't mock my potato ricer,' railed Lucy when I teased her about her addiction to Lakeland gadgets, 'it produces lump-free mash perfection, every time!'

So how has a shop selling jumper de-bobblers and insulated gravy boats come to inspire such passion? I visited their flagship store in Windermere in the Lake District to find out. En route I did some research about the company, which was set up in 1963 by Alan Rayner and originally called Lakeland Plastics. It sold plastic sheeting such as haystack and silage covers to farmers, and as 'the home freezer revolution' had just kicked off, with housewives keen to enjoy the new-found freedom of cooking food ahead, Alan also supplied plastic bags for domestic use. His sons Martin, Sam, and Julian, who now run the company helped out as youngsters for pocket money, counting the polythene bags into packs of 100 in the garage of their Windermere home.

During the next forty years the business expanded rapidly, moving away from its farming beginnings and shifting firmly into domestic territory. The mail-order business thrived and the first shop was opened in the ex Station Master's House in the 1960s. After that shops were opened in York, Chester and Guildford, with new ones added gradually over the next four decades. In the early 1980s the Windermere flagship store moved to larger premises and in 1997 the 'Plastics' bit of the name was dropped and the company became known as just Lakeland.

The store is only a minute's walk from the railway station, and the building also houses the administrative centre and 24-hour call centre for the mail order business. The layout is spacious and well-ordered, with a fresh cream and wood colour scheme and a first floor restaurant which overlooks the Lake District beauty spots of Claiffe Heights and Coniston Old Man.

As I wander around I feel the familiar surge of covetousness that always sweeps over me when I'm in one of their shops. I'm suddenly gripped by a desire for a 3-tier draining rack, a collapsible colander and a jolly stoneware Hen's Nest for storing eggs. Because for all my laughing at Lucy's potato-ricer, the fact is that I have a secret Lakeland habit of my own. It started with a teabag squeezer a couple of years ago and after that I never looked back. I've discovered the soak-up sheets for when I defrost the freezer which means I don't have to re-enact the Tewkesbury floods every time it needs doing, a cheese grater which effortlessly produces professional-looking ribbons and heavy-bottomed saucepans which have become old friends.

As I'm gazing longingly at some baking trays, one of the assistants asks if she can help me and sounds as if she means it. In other Lakeland stores I've found one of the most consistent things is the helpfulness of the staff. It's like having a domestic agony aunt service where you can chat to someone about the difficulties you have with, say, getting ingrained tea-stains off your favourite cups and feel they're genuinely interested in helping you solve your problem. The solution to this particular one is the Magic Eraser Block, by the way – it's fantastic!

After my undercover reconnaissance I'm due to meet up with Matthew Canwell, Director of Buying who previously worked at Marks and Spencer. Over coffee he told me how he'd felt after his job interview at Lakeland. 'I went away really, really wanting to work for the company. I was so impressed by the Rayner brothers honesty and integrity, by the belief that if you give good customer service that everything else will fall in to place and I wanted to be part of that.'

One of the most important parts of customer service is, of course, getting the right staff and I ask him how they manage that in a world where so many shop assistants see spending most of their day standing around chatting to colleagues about their holidays and nights out as one of the perks of their job. 'It's an interesting question, but we just don't seem to attract people like that,' Matthew replies. 'I think people who want to work for us are the type who take a pride in their job. Anyone who just wants to stack shelves and isn't interested in taking responsibility would be more suited to working somewhere else.'

As well as the shops there's the call centre, which serves the mail order business. There are currently 188 staff working there and Lakeland is a significant employer in Windermere. 'Customers often say how they love hearing the local accents,' says Matthew. 'They like it that there's that solid connection to our geographical area.' Refreshingly there's no holding system with the calls and you're put straight through to an advisor. No buttons to press, no music, no having to listen to insincere nonsense about how 'your call is important to us' whilst being kept online for hours.

Then we talk about how current trends in society are being reflected in sales. 'There's a move towards feeling that home-cooked is best,' says Matthew, 'and our bakeware sales have doubled in the past year. There's a growing emphasis on getting children involved with cooking and we've found our 'kids in the kitchen' products such as the child-sized bakeware set and little chef's apron have really taken off. People are increasingly interested in healthy eating so any kitchenware to do with preparing fruit or low-fat frying is very popular.'
And at a time when green concerns are being joined by a ones about a chillier economic climate, products linked to recycling and thriftiness such as composting bins and energy-efficient slow cookers are also gaining ground.

Then of course there are the perennially popular gadgets. 'People do know us for gadgets and sometimes we get teased about them,' admits Matthew. 'The classic example is the banana guard, which fits every shape of banana and stops it from getting squashed in your bag. But the fact is we wouldn't sell something if we didn't think it did its job well. If people laughed at the banana guard because it didn't work, we'd be worried but actually we know lots of people find it really useful, so we're big enough to take a bit of teasing.'

Lakeland clearly enjoys being at the cutting edge of domestic developments as well. Matthew produces the iRobot Roomba Vacuum cleaner to show me. It's a cute little UFO-shaped vacuum which doesn't actually need operating by a human being. Instead you press a button and it uses sensors to methodically work its way around the room. The general idea is that you can set it going before you set off for work in the morning and then when you get back it will have completely done one level of your home, including under the furniture (though sadly, like a Dalek it has yet to get the hang of stairs). Now, when I was a child back in the 1970s I distinctly remember we were promised that by the 21st Century we'd have robots to do our housework – nice to see we're finally making progress on that one!

Then we're joined by Wendy Miranda, Lakeland's Customer Ambassador. The role is a unique one, and is all about developing the ongoing dialogue that Lakeland has always had with its customers. It was first taken by Michelle Kershaw, who joined the company in the 1970s, became a national authority on home freezing and ran the Lakeland Home Freezing Advisory Service. Over the years, Michelle developed a tremendous connection with the customers and when she died several years ago she was sadly missed by many of them, so much so that it wasn't until 2006 that it was felt her job could be filled by someone new.

Wendy has been with Lakeland for 15 years and used to manage the Tunbridge Wells store. 'I was appointed because it was becoming clear that customers wanted a real person, like Michelle that they could write to about suggestions for products, requests for old ones to be re-instated, and general feedback and complaints. My role isn't one that's tied in with budgets or sales targets, I'm here to be the voice of the customer.'

And Lakeland customers have certainly got a lot to say! The company receives 3,000 suggestions a month. 'Our customers are very vocal,' says Matthew. 'They tell us the direction they want the business to take and we respond to it – it's fantastically helpful actually, and I'm amazed more companies don't do the same.'

One way in which the dialogue proves useful is that customers who find a product they're keen on when travelling overseas will get in touch and suggest Lakeland stock it – that's how they came across their legendary Australian Soft Eating Liquorice.

They also get in touch about items they currently use but can't get hold of any more. 'For example, the Perfect Pastry Crisper in our present catalogue was developed after a customer had written in to suggest it,' explains Matthew. 'She owned a flan dish with a perforated base which allows the heat to circulate but hadn't been able to replace it. So she sent us a letter, together with some photographs of the dish and our buying team were able to track down a manufacturer who was producing them.'

And the dialogue with customers goes further than just product ideas. The catalogue is full of reader comments. For example the three-tier draining rack I'd been eyeing up in the shop earlier has its praises sung by Gladys Coleman of Worcestershire who writes in to say she 'loves her high-rise cookery drainer.'
Then in the letters page there's feedback from readers who've found extra uses for some of the products – from the Eclair tin which doubles up to make individual toad-in-the-holes to the the wine bottle stoppers which Morven White of Glasgow's husband finds invaluable when seasoning his bagpipes.

Wendy then whisks me away to show me a selection of the post she receives every day. There are letters of appreciation and thanks, ones expressing disappointment at the discontinuation of an old favourite, ones from elderly people reminiscing about Lakeland products they've used over the years. There's even a poem in one, an 'Ode to Lakeland' written in fountain pen. 'If people have taken the trouble to write in then of course we'll always write back,' says Wendy. 'It gives a nice sense of connection. Often I'll send people a little something, such as a box of biscuits as well.'

And of course there are complaints as well, but the Lakeland approach is to go the extra mile when it comes to sorting them out. Wendy tells me about a customer who'd ordered an oven thermometer as a present, but it had been delayed in the post. He'd got in touch with her and she immediately followed it up by calling his local Norwich store and having one sent round to him in a taxi, so it was with him within the hour.

The Lakeland philosophy isn't 'Domestic Godessy' in the sense of being showy-offy and insanely aspirational. It's about enriching people's real lives rather than trying to flog them some out-of-reach ideal. Acknowledging everyday annoyances whether that's recalcitrant jar lids, cluttered cupboards or bruised bananas and providing solutions to help life go more smoothly, it's closer to William Morris's maxim about 'have nothing in your home that you do not know to be useful or believe to be beautiful'.
And then of course there's the way it bucks the trend of valuing style over substance. Lakeland doesn't spend a fortune on adverts featuring overpaid celebrities who probably don't even know the way to their own kitchens, let alone have a clue what to do when they get there. Instead it relies on offering value for money, courteous service, listening to its customers and continually seeking out new and original products. In short, it provides a combination of old-fashioned values and robots that do your housework. What's not to like?