I HAVE SPENT THE past decade immersed in retail and visual merchandising. I was trained to focus on the details: negative space, horizontal merchandising, vertical merchandising, focal points, sightlines. I understood what good merchandising looked like. What I did not fully understand, or even question, was the science behind why it worked and how our senses shape the experience long before a shopper realizes it.
In 2022, my understanding of retail changed in ways I did not anticipate.
A car accident left me with a traumatic brain injury, forcing me to step away from the industry for months while navigating therapies for memory loss, peripheral vision disruption, and light and sound sensitivity. When I eventually returned to work, the retail spaces I once enjoyed were suddenly exhausting and overwhelming. The lighting hurt my eyes and triggered migraines. Music overwhelmed me. Product overload and clutter quite literally made me feel angry. Even the thought of walking into a high-stimulus space could raise my heart rate.
At first, I assumed the problem was just me.
Most people do not walk around thinking about the brain as the control center behind every emotion, decision and physical reaction. I certainly didn’t. But if the brain influences everything we do, why was mine reacting so negatively to certain environments? What was happening neurologically each time I walked into a store? And if I was feeling this shift so intensely, how many others were experiencing it too?
As I began researching, I realized I was far from alone. Sensory processing differences affect millions of people. Things like ADHD, anxiety, migraines, neurological injuries, autism spectrum conditions and age-related changes all influence how environments are perceived. Throw in stress, pain or fatigue, and nearly anyone can become more sensitive to sound, light or visual complexity.
Even a quick look at the research shows how many people this affects.
Research suggests up to 16 percent of children show heightened sensitivity to everyday sensory input like sound or touch.
Migraines affect about 1 in 7 people worldwide, and sensitivity to light and sound are among their most common symptoms.
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About 1 in 4 adults in the United States lives with a disability, representing an estimated $1.2–$1.3 trillion in annual disposable income.
What felt like a personal struggle was revealing something larger. It was not about designing for a separate group, but about acknowledging the range of ways the same space can be experienced.
If retail environments are processed by the brain first, then lighting placement and temperature, acoustics, materials, spatial clearance, typography and color are not just design choices. They are neurological inputs the brain must sort through. In other words, retail includes sensory merchandising and design, whether we intentionally think about it that way or not.
The moment someone steps into a store, their nervous system reacts to sensory stimulation before any conscious evaluation occurs. That early reaction sets a tone and shapes the rest of the experience.
For me, it often meant exhaustion. The act of shopping stopped feeling fun and started feeling irritating.
The more I researched sensory processing, the more I understood that my body was not overreacting; it was responding to overwhelm. And if that response is happening before someone even looks at a product, it matters. It can influence how long they stay, how clearly they process information, and whether they want to come back. This is where accessibility enters the conversation.
Accessibility is not separate from good design. It’s what happens when we recognize that brains process environments differently and design with that variability in mind. Not everyone thinks of themselves as sensory-sensitive, but our tolerance operates like a battery. Early in the day, we have more capacity for light, noise and movement. As that battery drains, the same environment can feel more intense. Designing with that fluctuation in mind creates spaces that hold up over time.
When we start with the brain, visual merchandising and design make more sense. Applying that awareness is how accessibility becomes part of design from the start.
Curiosity is where change begins.
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