Whirlpool design chief Chuck Jones stands behind a two-way mirror in a dimly lit observation room at the company's headquarters in Benton Harbor, Michigan. On the other side of the glass are a twentysomething volunteer and a shiny, black refrigerator. Jones and a small team of designers, engineers, and usability specialists watch as the woman loads groceries into the fridge. Her movements are mind-numbingly mundane, but the Whirlpool folks are rapt. "This is a very complex interaction between a user, a product, and her goals," whispers a human-factors expert. The design team isn't just observing; it's grading each task. How long did it take? How many of the fridge's features did she use?

That level of detail is pure Jones. He believes that extensive, even obsessive, research and performance measurements take the fuzziness out of design abstractions. The best way to win credibility from skeptics -- and to improve the design itself -- is to marshal reams of quantifiable data. At Whirlpool, the usability study is the moment of truth. The new product's aesthetic might be achingly brilliant. No matter. If the customer doesn't realize intuitively that the soda cans fit -- no, belong -- on the refrigerator door's short shelf, the design needs a do-over.

The woman picks up a six-pack of soda and turns to the Kenmore Elite, a popular Sears model Whirlpool makes and wants to improve. Without a moment's hesitation, she goes right for the can shelf as though she's following directions. That, Jones believes, is how smart design works.

Not so long ago, North America's largest appliance maker (No. 2 in the world) was content to churn out millions of refrigerators, ovens, and other household staples that were virtually indistinguishable from one another as well as from the competition. Not anymore. Under Jones's guidance, Whirlpool is cultivating a distinctive look and feel that better differentiates its product lineup from GE and Maytag appliances.

Along the way, Jones, 47, has helped 94-year-old Whirlpool discover its cool. The Duet, a matching washer and dryer introduced in 2001, is a must-have appliance. With its stylish lines, portholelike door, and eye-catching colors, the Duet, says Jones, "is like a Ferrari in your laundry room." That same year, Paris's Louvre Museum displayed Whirlpool's next-generation concept products, and in 2002, the Smithsonian Institution named Whirlpool the winner of its annual National Design Award in corporate achievement.

Besides raising Whirlpool's profile to new heights, Jones is demonstrating design's potential to boost the bottom line. As rising steel prices push materials costs to the stratosphere, it's one way to justify a higher price tag for finished products. At $2,000, the Duet is Whirlpool's most expensive washer-dryer set, yet it sells like an iPod: In the premium front-loading washer category, Whirlpool has gone from a market share of zero to more than 20% in three years. "The industry has been waiting for someone like Chuck," says Jonathan Cagan, professor of mechanical engineering at Carnegie Mellon University and coauthor of The Design of Things to Come (Wharton School Publishing, June 2005). "He has transformed the brand."

Jones began making his case for design in 1997, when he pitched a presentation dubbed "Leading by Design" to Whirlpool's senior management. With charts and figures, he showed how a similar strategy goosed market share and revenue for design-centric outfits such as Apple, Chrysler, Dyson, and Volkswagen. Jones took an unromantic view of design. For him, it's a branding tool whose purpose is to increase sales. That sensibility won him the senior-level backing he needed.