I have always loved fashion and stores and shopping. When I was in the third and fourth grades, I saved my lunch money to buy issues of Vogue, while my classmates were stuck with the Weekly Reader. Then, after class, I would go shopping and wander through stores, observing their interiors, how merchandise
was displayed and how people shopped. And I have continued doing that for most of my life.
When you have spent as much time in stores as I have—observing as well as shopping—you develop a sixth sense, a sort of bloodhound's nose for what is successful in retail environments and what isn't. For example, you can often walk into a store and tell right away if that retailer is doing well or not.
You look at the stock levels: does merchandise on the sales floor feel sparse and bare or overstocked and dense? Either condition could indicate weak sales (though seasonal shifts or poor management could also be a factor). Is the store's temperature too cool? A large number of shoppers quickly raises the temperature. If the store is too chilly, its traffic is probably off. Noise levels can also tell you a lot—customers chatter away when they are buying.
When he was still alive, CEO and owner Dick Rich would walk through a Rich's store in the afternoon, and he could instantly tell whether or not the store had rung up good sales that day. He was never wrong, and no one could figure out how he did it. One day, he finally revealed his secret: carpet dust bunnies. When there is lots of traffic, as Rich put it, "the dust bunnies will fly."
Of course, obvious keys like the number of shopping bags and shoppers' emotional states can be telltale indicators of the customers' buying mood. And here is another sign: serious shoppers always walk more slowly. If shoppers walk at a fast pace through the store, it is doubtful that they will make a purchase. Stores know the real job of visual merchandising is to slow the customer down.
People tend to buy more when they shop alone than when they shop in groups. A single shopper usually means serious, mission-specific shopping. Teens, however, prefer to shop in packs. They crave peer support in making buying decisions, which is why so many teen stores try to be club-like.
Customers are always attracted to what's new and different. Just position a rolling rack of incoming apparel in front of a fashion department, and customers will instantly be attracted to it. They will ignore the merchandise that is hanging on the front fixtures or presented in the displays, no matter how attractive, in favor of a chance to grab an item or two right off of the new-arrivals rack. To the customer, new is always better.
So much new retail space has been built in this country that the consumer is constantly being presented with an inexhaustible supply of new stores. We have trained shoppers to be maniacs for the new, and they have developed an insatiable capacity to absorb the next retail venture or mall or merchandising trend. The downside of that, of course, is that they quickly become less interested in what they have already seen or experienced.
In an effort to feed this on-going frenzy, retail space in America has increased by a staggering 75 percent in the past decade. New retail growth peaked in 1999 and 2000—perhaps there was a millennial building mania—and has been slowing since. But there are still plenty of shopping grounds around: a record breaking 20 sq. ft. of retail space exists for every person in America.
A lot of that space was shopped, examined or even designed by retail zealots, like me, who still get a thrill out of seeing customers' heels kick up some carpet dust bunnies.
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