The new Daslu

Writer Rebecca Mead introduced Americans to the Brazilian über-luxury merchant Daslu in her March 17, 2003, New York Magazine profile called "Dressing for Lula" (read the piece at www.rebeccamead.com). The store started more than 40 years ago in a private home of the mother of its present owner. When I visited the store three years ago, it was housed in a series of connected, single-family dwellings in an urban neighborhood in Sao Paolo, Brazil. The women's store was on one side of the street; the men's and housewares were on the other.

With the pressures of the market and the success of the store, a new location was needed. Besides, the neighbors of the original store were furious about the traffic problems. With each trip to Sao Paolo, I'd get an update, hear the rumors and drive past the construction site. As I arrived in Brazil in late October, the new store had been open for four months.

How often does a store take my breath away? As a globetrotting retail wonk, it has never happened until now. Stand back LVMH; too bad Neiman's; eat your heart out Harvey Nicks. You are not even playing in the same arena, much less the same game.

Three layers of security start at the driveway. A Daslu membership card and a strict valet-parking-only policy control access to the store. You enter and exit the store at different levels. This is not a mall store. More than two-thirds of shoppers are greeted by name, and the concierge at the doorway calls on personal shoppers to announce guest arrival. While the main door spills into international fashion labels, the guest can opt for the men's store and restaurant entrance. If you so choose, you can also arrive by private helicopter. There is no walk-in traffic.

The store is a mammoth 150,000 sq. ft., but still functions like a series of connected mansions, with atriums filled with coffee bars, a champagne lounge and two restaurants. It feels like a private club with more air kisses than the fashion shows in Bryant Park. Every major luxury brand in the world has a presence.

Continuing the tradition of the old Daslu, no men are allowed in the women's fashion area. Large, ceramic Great Danes sit at women's fashion entrances with "No Men Allowed" signs hanging from their necks. The shopper assembles her own dressing room—point to a pair of Manolos, and they get sent to her dressing room. Cosmetic surgery, a salon, an up-market drugstore, a vacation planner surrounded by tenting and a real estate department selling homes across the world are included in the offering.

The men's section merchandises apparel and male toys together, including books, model cars, Lionel trains, radio-controlled helicopters and Ferrari-branded laptops. That's just the small stuff and miniatures. Get to the sports apparel, and the toys supersize—from sports cars to full-size helicopters all merchandised together.

The top floor is rented for events at Brazilian scale. With 50,000 sq. ft., a ballroom out of Versailles that accommodates 1,500 people and more white sofas than the Nebraska Furniture Mart, the space is booked into 2007.

What makes the store work is the mix of aggressive cross merchandising, a highly developed service model and visible management. The store makes no apologies for what it is and whom it serves. While Paulistas (the citizens of Sao Paolo) are the resident customer base, Daslu is the destination of choice to Brazil's agri-business gentry who come from their coffee farms and 21st-century dairies to a one-stop portal in the broader world of consumption. In a city with a manic pace, ongoing security issues and terrible traffic, being able to buy a suit, a car and vacation in the same place makes a lot of sense.