how you can retailer Like A Dane

Flying Tiger Copenhagen—the low cost Danish home decor chain that opened its first U.S. region in long island this earlier may just—is a bit of like Ikea’s manic pixie dream girl little sister. From nostril-shaped pencil sharpeners to oven mitts with enamel, most of its quirky, colorful products promote for lower than $10.

This tremendous-affordability is ordinary for Danish design, known for its beautiful craftsmanship and hefty costs (suppose Arne Jacobsen’s leather Egg Chair, $15,000 at Design inside attain). “Our mission is to make coveted but incessantly very pricey Danish design obtainable to everyone,” Tina Kanter, managing director of Flying Tiger Copenhagen tells Co.Design in an e mail. “however we’re additionally occupied with more than just product—we’re keen on how our artful objects can inspire consumers to have fun, smile, and engage day by day.”

the result of this mission: lots of the stuff in Flying Tiger’s whimsical tchotchke land seems find it irresistible was once designed by Danish elves on sugar highs for the sole function of stuffing Christmas stockings. So when my editor instructed I do all my holiday shopping there, to investigate how Flying Tiger’s take on Danish design translates to American tastes (or doesn’t), I bravely ventured forth.

On Broadway and 23rd boulevard, this buck retailer of Danish design is laid out as one lengthy, snaking aisle from entrance to checkout. After 5 minutes within the maze, my basket used to be full of lovely little knickknacks that none of my family or chums would in fact want: neon erasers shaped like gorillas ($1), a holographic elf laptop ($2), lip-shaped fridge magnets ($2), a miniature air hockey desk ($5), cactus candles from a 24-foot-broad candle wall ($three), a robot pencil sharpener ($2), glittery cat brooches ($1), and a color-changing coronary heart-printed mug ($three).

Flying Tiger’s hodgepodge of kitsch is galvanized via the flea markets the place the chain’s founder, Lennart Lajboschitz, used to promote overstock. The upside of Denmark’s spin on the flea market aesthetic is that despite cheapo prices, Flying Tiger’s merchandise don’t appear to be junk, thanks to easy, inventive designs. You’ve most probably seen stuff of the same quality and aesthetic on the market in city Outfitters’ house items section for 5 times the fee. (Cultural differences between Copenhagen and NY city aren’t so vast that the shop’s design registers as “international” or “unique”—if anything, it’s the affordable prices that set it apart from the American approach to retail.) but considering that the whole lot is industrially produced, regardless of how authentic or eccentric the designs, it’s tougher to seek out gifts that really feel distinctive or meaningful at Flying Tiger than it is, say, at an actual flea market, the place one-of-a-kind old items reign.

still, in the mustache section (the shop’s merchandise are organized with the aid of theme), I came across a couple of things I hoped would have deep importance for his or her recipients. My brother has a bit of a factor for mustache memorabilia. In high school, he stored a faux mustache in a purple velvet-lined jewelry field and called it his “secret stache.” From the cabinets heaped with mustache stuff, I pick three $1 mustache-printed ingesting glasses, some $2 mustache pushpins, and a $3 mustache-formed piggy financial institution.

the next part was themed round noses. both my mom and grandmother have elegantly distinguished noses that, after years of sweet sixteen self-cognizance, they now put on with satisfaction. For these plentiful-schnozzed matriarchs, I choose two presents that honor their sturdy profiles: A magenta nostril-formed eyeglasses holder ($3) and a ceramic mug with a big nose-shaped deal with (also $3).

It was more difficult to find gifts for grown males, like my dad, who will not be an lovely knickknack more or less man, if there is any such factor. subject material items he appreciates embrace drum units, drugs balls, and the occasional cigar, none of which Flying Tiger shares. but as I was about to lose hope, I noticed it: A jar labeled “Glowing Slime/Slim selvlysende” for $2. It was once good: He might mold the slime into no matter mysterious factor he secretly wanted for Christmas, and its glow would illuminate his lifestyles. There in point of fact used to be something for everyone in this Danish wonderland.

towards the end of this consumerist patience take a look at, I seize a $5 LP frame for report-accumulating good friend (urban Outfitters sells the same thing for $18); a $5 miniature pool desk for my college-aged sister; $2 spools of yarn for a knitting friend; plus some lovely blue plates ($three) and a few $1 elf-patterned washcloths for whoever I forgot about. The grand complete for 21 gifts for 12 people: $79.

If $seventy nine worth of cheap Danish design didn’t persuade my friends and family I actually cared about them, i am hoping that, within the phrases of Flying Tiger’s mission statement, these items would at least function inspiration “to have fun, smile, and engage every day”—or, if not every day, for a couple of minutes before opening their next reward.