Ikea at last cracks China market, but success has meant adapting to local ways

On a recent Saturday afternoon, Ikea's flagship mainland store - one of the world's largest - is abuzz with people. Walkways guiding visitors from one showroom to the next feel more congested than the road outside, and almost all 660 seats in the canteen are occupied. Yet the lines to the cashiers are refreshingly short - most are not here to shop.

The store is gripped by a kind of anarchy that would rarely be seen, or tolerated, in its country of origin. There are picnickers everywhere - their tea flasks and plastic bags of snacks lining the showroom tables. Young lovers pose for "selfies" in mock-up apartments they do not live in. Toddlers in split pants play on model furniture with their naked parts coming in contact with all surfaces.

On a king-size bed in the middle of the largest showroom, a little boy wakes from a nap next to his (also sleeping) grandmother. When the old woman casually helps the boy urinate into an empty water bottle, dripping liquid liberally on the grey mattress under his feet, most passers-by seem not to mind or even notice. The exception is a young woman who elbows her disinterested boyfriend: "Look, he's peeing into a bottle!"

Most endemic, however, is the sleeping. After a few, rare clear days, the city's notorious heavy smog has returned, and is made worse by a sticky, dusty heat wave striking northern China. Weeks earlier, a photo of people napping in a Shanghai shopping centre to escape the searing heat went viral, but in the capital, it is Ikea's cool, conditioned air that is salvation for tens of thousands of its inhabitants.

The bedroom and living room sections on the store's third floor are the most popular. Virtually every surface is occupied by visitors appearing very much at home. Older people read newspapers or drink tea; younger visitors cuddle or play with their phones. Most, however, are sound asleep.