As an aviation design geek, I appreciate and applaud airlines that commit to expressing their identity in their own unique way. However, when the design obscures the needs of the passenger, it becomes too much of a good thing. Complexity can make a product inaccessible, perhaps especially for neurodivergent travellers.

On a recent trip with KLM, I discovered that the airline’s vast and quirky non-Schengen Crown Lounge in Amsterdam Schiphol falls victim to this problem and misses the mark in key areas. But some practical changes could make KLM’s bold vision a captivating one. 

Finding the lounge

The confusion for me starts outside the lounge. As a neurodivergent passenger, I cherish clear and simple signage, and Schiphol does not deliver. Anticipating that I might struggle, I did ask for directions from border guard staffers, but even they were confused by the signs and gave me verbal instructions in where to head and turn.

The lounge is called “Lounge 52” on airport signs, with a small KLM logo sometimes appearing next to it. Located between concourses E and F, the actual lounge is up some escalators so the entrance is a bit obscure.

I find it hard to imagine that there are 51 other airport lounges in Schiphol. But even if there are, I think that calling it the “Crown Lounge” on signs would make a big difference. The sheer scale of Schiphol (a 20-minute walk between gates, in this instance) means that wasting more time getting lost is a real drag.

Navigating the lounge

Once you are actually inside the two-story lounge, the confusion continues. Rising up the escalators flanked by Delft houses (an inspired touch), passengers are presented with two entrances. On the left, a traditional staffed entrance leads into the buffet and seating area. The right side, meanwhile, opens into a vast space housing seating and an entertainment space but no food or drink amenities. 

Each zone has a different name — “Polder”, “Dutch Mountain”, “Sea” and “Sky” — and each has a different role to play. This is a valid idea, but the names themselves don’t always translate.

The entertainment zone is called Dutch Mountain, whilst the rest area is called Sea. To KLM’s credit, there are some signs to explain what’s what, but I still found myself having to cross the huge complex several times to find what I was looking for. This, again, wastes time that most passengers don’t have and also makes the whole experience quite stressful. 

The lounge has a lot of options that are designed to meet different passenger needs. For example, there is a quiet zone at the far end of the lounge that has ginormous sofa seating that can be used for sleeping, whilst the open air (non-smoking) terrace is a godsend for someone who has been cooped up in a 777 for 12 hours.

However, when I visited, most passengers remained rammed into the buffet seating area. Entire sections of the lounge were deserted.

When I entered the large “Dutch Mountain” room, for example, I was one of only three passengers in there. A sort of open air cinema is nestled in the ziggurat at the far side of this zone (playing the Olympic Games at the time). I absolutely love the design concept, but there are no places to get food or drink to enjoy with the content.

I had to make a trip across the lounge to find a glass of wine from the manned bar. This feels disruptive and could be easily solved with more food and drink options around the lounge. 

The upper level of the lounge (called “Blue”) is where KLM serves premium food and beverages for an additional charge (either in euros or air miles). I can’t comment on the value of this upcharge venue as the bar and restaurant is only open between 9am and 4pm and I arrived at 7pm.

When I was there, all I could do was gaze at the vast, empty bar or sit in one of the many empty chairs. It seems very odd that an entire floor of the lounge would remain essentially closed during peak meal times like dinner. Again, acquiring food and beverages requires using the elevator or taking your chances on the stairs. 

It was a real shame that “Blue” was so desolate, because it is here that the theming of the lounge really shines. KLM has done a phenomenal job of curating the interior to showcase the design and history of the airline, showcasing historical artefacts including model planes and uniforms (the first floor walls include items like the pottery tiles that feature in KLM’s inflight safety video).

The design language of the furniture and fixtures is also something to behold, with traditional Dutch chairs featuring alongside comfortable and varied seating options.

I was especially impressed by the sofas, which have retractable armrests so sleeping passengers can really stretch out whilst also featuring power points and spaces for personal items. 

Accessing the amenities themselves is also a mixed bag. KLM is a very digital airline, and this translates to its lounge, where most services are accessed by self-service machines. I tried to use a kiosk to book a shower, but received an error message, and required manual assistance.

The showers themselves are pretty standard, but they now offer luxurious toiletries from a local Amsterdam brand.

In terms of food and beverages, the lounge has a manned bar for alcoholic drinks (and a self-service soda fountain), a barista serving coffee, and a buffet of hot and cold food with tables for dining surrounding it. The buffet also embraces the Dutch theme by offering local cheeses and snacks. 

I enjoyed a glass of cava from the bar, but unfortunately I could not sample the buffet as I saw a mouse wandering about the lounge on my arrival. The staff explained to me that there has been a rodent problem since renovation work began on the terminal, which is unfortunate to say the least.

However, as the staff were aware of the problem, it would seem preferable to have introduced guards or covers for food and drink temporarily rather than just hope that passengers don’t see anything scurrying across the floor. Aside from the presence of the rodent the lounge did seem clean. 

As I left the lounge to make the 20-minute trek to my gate, I was struck by how much of this facility is actually spot on, but just does’t fit together. The theming is spectacular and the specific zones for rest, play and relax are welcome, but clearer, simpler signs  (e.g. Rest, Eat, Refresh, Socialise, Chill) would make this a lot more accessible to passengers, as would in-lounge diagrams of the space. 

More evenly spaced out amenities like drink dispensers and snack stations would also mean that passengers don’t immediately go to the buffet and stay there, reducing overcrowding whilst also opening up more areas for people to explore. 

The Blue room also needs to be consistently open, or at least staffed, otherwise it is just wasted space. It’s worth reflecting on how much KLM actually benefits from this premium space or if it could be used for something else. 

Finally, the delivery issues like inoperable kiosks and the presence of a rodent need resolving. 

Ultimately, the Crown Lounge is an eye-catching and bold space that goes its own way, but a sensitive taming of the concept would make it more accessible.

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All images credited to the author, Fintan Horan-Stear