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Reviewing the jellyfish cat store in Nordstrom
The recent Jellycat pop-up at Nordstrom in downtown Chicago arrived with considerable buzz a chance, many hoped, to step into the plush, whimsical world that has captured hearts worldwide. I had seen the features on social media and even on the news, where staff at other Jellycat pop-ups created an interactive, imaginative experience for example, “pretending to cook” plushies or wrapping them up like little pastries or treats. It was cute, charming, and very on-brand for Jellycat. Naturally, I assumed the Chicago experience would bring that same sense of magic and creativity. Unfortunately, it did not.
From the moment I entered Nordstrom, the first thing that hit me was the heat. The entire floor felt humid, almost suffocatingly warm, which made waiting nearly three hours, in my case increasingly uncomfortable. After all that anticipation, stepping into the so-called “Jellycat experience” was anticlimactic. The pop-up itself was tiny, barely larger than a walk-in closet. The layout was cluttered, with people pushing past one another just to move a few feet. It was difficult to appreciate anything in that kind of environment.The selection of items was equally underwhelming. For a brand celebrated for its creativity and variety, the assortment felt rushed and limited the kind of stock you’d expect from a clearance table rather than a feature event. Many of the plushies available were standard designs easily found online, and not even the more beloved or exclusive pieces that make Jellycat special. Ironically, Amazon and other retailers online offer better selections and prices. When a pop-up fails to offer a unique or immersive element, it loses its entire purpose.
Staff energy didn’t help much either. Some were friendly and moving about, but others appeared disengaged chatting casually with security, complaining about standing too long, or simply ignoring the crowd forming around them. Organization was minimal, and crowd control nonexistent. It was clear the space and staff were not prepared for the turnout or the expectations.
Pricing, as anticipated, was high that’s expected for Jellycat. But price alone isn’t the problem; it’s when the experience doesn’t justify it. The news segments and social media teasers showed a delightful, imaginative setup where shoppers got to see plushies “cooked,” “wrapped,” or playfully presented like they were part of a whimsical story. That’s what I came for. I wanted that heartwarming, lighthearted interaction the moment that makes a brand feel alive. Instead, what Chicago received was a cramped corner with plushies on shelves and very little of the fun or fantasy that Jellycat had teased elsewhere.
Overall, this pop-up felt rushed, unplanned, and misrepresented. For a brand built on creativity and comfort, this execution failed to capture its soul. I still adore Jellycat’s plushies they’re adorable, soft, and full of character but I can’t say the same for this location or its presentation.
Final thoughts: Jellycat should rethink not just the space but the entire concept of what they call a “Jellycat experience.” Chicago deserved better. The charm of Jellycat lies not in its price tags, but in the feelings it creates — warmth, play, and imagination. Sadly, none of that was present here.