The Mercadona doctrine and how to make yourself at home part-time
What to do with a completely free Saturday, aside from writing this column? Sleep in and get up when you feel fully rested? You bet. Answer the door buzzer in pyjamas when a friend drops by with some fresh bread from Pão do Pastor (a respected bakery here in Lisbon)? Absolutely. Chart a course for a morning walk that includes visiting a newish branch of Spanish supermarket Mercadona at the far end of Campo Grande? A must.
It’s now a little more than a year since we were properly installed here in Lisbon and the apartment is as finished as a part-time residence ever is – there’s some good photography and art on the walls but some things need moving around and key pieces are still missing in the den and mom’s room. I would like to transfer part of my magazine archive here but the fact that it’s sitting somewhere out near Wembley makes it a logistical project that I’m not quite ready to face. It means I’m missing some of the titles that I enjoy having to hand elsewhere, and I’m trying to decide if there might be some good Portuguese or Brazilian journals that could stand in for old copies of Arena, The Face, Blitz, Sky and Tempo. All ideas welcome.
The star of the transformed apartment is the kitchen. For a very, very brief moment we were going to keep the original 1960s cupboards but, in the end, went for marine plywood open shelves and doors. With original stone floors and counters to match, it’s long and lean and the nook at the far end is perfect for a cosy dinner for six. It’s also set for a bit of a workout and this is where the hike up to Mercadona comes in.
If you’re not familiar with the Iberian grocery store scene (you really should be), Mercadona is a unique proposition. While it would be easy to suggest that it’s a Spanish-speaking version of Aldi or Lidl – given its no-frills offer – it’s actually so much more. For starters, you never see the brand unless you walk or drive past a storefront as Mercadona is famous for not advertising or engaging in traditional supermarket comms tricks. Inside, the stores are austere and dull from a design perspective but there’s always a parking lot to secure Rolser shopping trolleys and clean, well-maintained toilets have become something of a trademark that makes the brand popular with convenience-minded people.
The Mercadona that has opened near my place is in the middle of a mid-income neighbourhood that’s currently being upgraded. By 11.00 it was busy but not rammed with Lisboetas who are happy that the chain has now ventured down from the country’s north. With just shy of 1,700 stores across Spain and, more recently, Portugal, Mercadona is another one of those Spanish retail success stories that has created one of Europe’s richest families you’ve never heard of. While the Ortegas of Inditex (Zara, Massimo Dutti) fame are discreet but globally known, Valencia’s Roig clan are generally hidden from view. Privately held, the company recently posted sales of more than €40bn and distributed approximately a billion of that to employees across the group. Perhaps this is the reason why the woman at the cash desk was so smiley and helpful. It also made me curious as to where the self-checkout units were. For a brand-new store, there wasn’t a self-scanner in sight – at least not at this branch.
As I walked out with my takeaway bifana in hand, I wondered if Mercadona is a concept that’s likely to stick to the Iberian Peninsula or will it go Europe-wide? Would French customers care for the gentleman on hand with slices of ham? Would Italians want the fresh fish counter? Would British customers take a fancy to a personal care department almost free from major brands? Given their results, I’m sure the Roigs and employees are content being regional retail stars.
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