Retail Unwrapped from The Robin Report

A New Formula for Luxury Marketing

Kate Newlin — Thu, 12 Feb 2026 05:01:00 +0000

“What becomes a legend most?” Remember the famous ad line when fur was in fashion, and that fame-saturated double-page photo shoot vision appeared in every fashion magazine. But that was back when there were real fashion magazines, not today’s celebrity showcases masquerading as style books.

Legacy as Liability?

Today, I ask the question from a different angle of the cultural prism: What becomes a legacy legend most? More specifically, a luxury legacy legend. Why luxury? Because luxe is where the money is, and legacy brands have an embedded baseline of that most difficult and expensive asset: consumer awareness of their origin stories.

But there’s a flip side to awareness. I’m talking about the risk of once-great brands suspended in hibernation in the depths of memory. These are the ones, theoretically at least, awaiting resuscitation. They may be tempted by some Chimera, that fire-breathing animal of Greek myth with a lion’s head, goat’s body and serpent’s tail: AKA, stupid money and stupider debt. These luxury brands are charades as uber confident and a total denigration of customer respect and product knowledge.

Is luxury legacy a risk or a liability? And the answer is: If brands trade on a mutation of the relevance of luxury legacy that dilutes their value, they risk losing the past and the future.

Luxury Odyssey

As a trained future trends analyst, I have spent the past 18 months consulting for one of the premier legacy luxury businesses, which came of age in that long-ago and far-away ‘what becomes a legend most’ era. I have learned much on this business strategy odyssey. The focus is on the mission-critical centrality of the Ultra High Net Worth audience – and its influencers – as the last bastion of margin-accretive growth. The exploration showcases the obvious age-old edict: The rich really are different. During this journey I had the great good fortune of engaging with savvy luxury brand stewards, sales associates, private wealth managers, so-called creative agency executives, comatose retailers, and the journalists who cover them. These kaleidoscopic viewpoints coalesced into my current vision, and I have developed the reignition model for luxury legends built on seven non-negotiables.

Seven Truths in Pursuit of Genuine, Sustainable Growth

Truth One. The uber luxury market is the only one poised for genuine, sustainable, profitable growth. It’s time to forget about the ‘aspirational’ consumer, lusting after high-end, name-checked logos and settling for an over-packaged bottle of a marquee brand’s fragrance. Forget too, while we’re at it, the quaint notion of ‘masstige.’ Why? Because life changes at the macro-level while marketers change at the micro-level. Aspirations change. The definition of prestige evolves. The culture shifts.

Truth Two. Private equity and its doppelgänger, personal greed, are actively ringing the death knell of retail. Ask not Saks for whom the bell tolls. All the while, we avert our gaze from the obvious impossibility of carrying or ever repaying the gravitational pull of race-to-the-bottom debt. This all takes place during a technological revolution upending the notion that we’re willing to leave home for the acquisition of goods. Not clothing. Not jewelry. Not groceries. Not nothing. Unless and until it’s personally relevant. Interesting. Exciting. In short, bespoke.

Truth Three. The Ultra High Net Worth customer does not ‘shop’ in a mall or at the car dealership or at the auction house. They dispatch lesser mortals to deal with lesser mortals. Yes, the fabulous designer invites the equally fabulous client to fly in on the corporate jet to Paris or Milan, but it’s the stylist’s job to curate the wardrobe and speak with sales associates to deliver options to be chosen in the privacy of the client’s various homes. Knowledgeable human to knowledgeable human. How to reach the UHNW? See them as individuals. Meet them where they spend their time and money—unapologetically. Our model shows the power in valuing their values: Their non-profit galas, their family resorts, their joie de vivre pursuits, and their friends.

Truth Four. Successful luxury brands use their retail locations as ads that we walk into. They provide the luxury ‘lifestyle experience’ on display in case the merely wealthy—personal shoppers, tourists and husbands in search of ‘something’—stumble in the day before or on ‘the day’ itself: Valentine’s, anniversary, birthday, and the ‘I’m so, so sorry, and it will never happen again’ day.

Truth Five. Marketing and product creativity are at their nadir. This goes for the conventional creative and performative hype of AI. Luxe marketing demands the personal engagement and recommendation of ‘one person I know,’ in preference to some desperate cool hunt for anonymous ‘friends’ pestering us in bot-speak. Creatives who grew up in the world of CPG marketing are ill-equipped to understand the un-commoditized revelations of genuine craftsmanship. They are even less able to communicate through the dog-whistle tropes of exclusivity to be noticed by the one percent of the one percent. Equally, designers tremble at the notion of separating the exquisite workmanship of their vision from its ability to be manufactured on the cheap two oceans away.

Truth Six. Modern retail is a gauntlet to survive, not an experience to engage. Nor even enjoy. Much of our work over the past two decades has centered on a core understanding of the customer. Freud said it best: We all want to feel significant. We hunger for it. We mourn its loss. When we speak to consumers under hypnosis – yes, hypnosis – they describe that sought-after feeling of a great shopping experience as ‘I felt lucky.’ The easiest way to cheat that ‘lucky’ feeling is to mass produce and ‘buy one and get 50 percent off another.’ This generation of marketers has literally addicted consumers to price promotion. But for the Ultra High Net Worth, that doesn’t work. Paying a hefty luxury tax on their most recent fill-in-the-blank acquisition offers unstated bragging rights of the ‘what me worry?’ mentality.

Truth Seven. The long-heralded transfer of wealth from one generation to another is near. But it won’t mean an après moi le deluge spending binge. Rather, the old guard has set up Family Offices with savvy financial managers to educate and exert fiscal restraint in ways that may well irritate next-gen revelers. Thanks to ever-increasing longevity, boomers have had quite a bit of time to monitor their children’s and grandchildren’s behaviors, and they are not going gently into the night.

Legacy as an Asset

For any brand, revive your legacy, reconnecting with those who already know and love you. Reach out to past and present clients and their trusted advisors to prove you’re an investment-grade acquisition. Then ignite exploration by next-gen audiences for whom you may be ‘new to you’ but are worthy of respect. Finally, show up where they are and reinforce that you share their values and humanity. All the while, focus on the unmet need of those most willing to exchange money for genuine cultural currency. Then, stand back and watch your legacy transform your business into a goldmine. Finally, what becomes a legend most? The spotlight.

Surprising Collabs Empower Customers

Kate Newlin — Thu, 17 Jul 2025 04:01:00 +0000

Retail has undergone a series of reinventions that has left it all but unrecognizable to fabled emporium merchants like Harry Selfridge. For the records, here’s a brief, high-level, skeptic’s overview of retail’s recent devolution.

The Peril of One for All: First, the reduction in full force of ear-to-the-ground buyers who are able to discern commonalities and differences in local tastes from the commoditized efficiencies and price negotiating leverage of mass purchase decisions with well-known logos.
The Lack of Expertise: Then, the cutting-to-the-bone number of on-the-floor sales professionals, the outsourcing of sales training, and mono-focus of associates of brands now paying ‘rent’ for their boutiques within the store.
The Triumph of Digital: Next, the triumphal announcement of the revitalization of the chain’s website into an ecommerce site with AI-driven chatbots to ‘assist’ and confuse the consumer.
Decline and Fall: Then, the announcement of the new dawn, stating the obvious that it makes so much sense to close underperforming stores.
Retailtainment: Then, the euphoric announcement from mall redevelopers that a) new ‘experiential’ rides on the mall midway will more than offset the decline in shopper traffic; and b), the once-successful mall is better suited to be a community center, university campus annex, or new church.

Luxe brands realize it is more than fair to trust clients with their most scarce resource: Authenticity. It is becoming the essential differentiator. People want the genesis story of the brand, its inspirations, its current creative force, its – dare we say it? – relevance to them.

White Knights En Route

On the horizon we can almost make out the outline of a remarkable new posse riding to retailers’ rescue. At least to the rescue of the ultra-high net worth shopper. The composition of that remarkable crew of rescuers makes it clear: When consumers of prestige luxury goods are the ones you want to seduce, it’s best to have an effective wingman or woman. Thus, we see the glimmers of a new breed of collaborations and a focus on consumer education and expertise.

Knowledge is Power

Positive consumer knowledge about brands enhances loyalty. And loyalty drives sales. Take a look at the recent UBS Private Wealth House of Craft x Dior. Strange bedfellows? Possibly. This unusual but effective collaboration is staged under the banner of “craft.” Such an old-world, 20^th century notion, right? I was witness on a recent rainy weekend afternoon in lower Manhattan, when the exhibition space at 30 Pine Street Studios was filled to the rafters with young and older connoisseurs all waiting to walk the gallery. They were also jamming the seating space to hear conversations with various éminences grises speak with profound knowledge of the pursuit of excellence. And by inference, or halo effect, UBS Private Wealth Management as well.

Summer rentals in the Hamptons may be down by 50 to 70 percent depending upon your source, but New Yorkers’ desire for an experience in luxe at the very height of fashion is alive and well. Standing room only, in fact. All this flies in the face of the conventional retail belief that consumers care only about price and convenience. Meanwhile this quest for brand knowledge is being monetized by a savvy private wealth management firm.

A new and perfectly clear syllogism emerges: Dior is a well-crafted, heritage brand chock-a-block with expertise, creativity and gorgeous results year after year. So too is your financial legacy with UBS. Knowledge is power. And wealth powers luxury knowledge.

A Luxury Education

What’s the difference between an ultra-high net worth woman and a bargain basement one? Money. What’s the difference between a fascinating craft fashion backstory and an offshore, low-cost producer story? Ditto. There’s real money on the table now in the education of willing luxe fashionistas. We can see it at Sotheby’s with its Sotheby’s Institute. Take a look at the master’s program at the Vogue College. Ultra brand Van Cleef holds regular educational webinars (online and in person) on the history of impossibly precious jewelry and gemstones through its L’École des Arts Joailliers located in Paris

A more playful take on brand educaton and understanding was undertaken by Hermès via its “Mystery at the Grooms” installation at Pier 36 in New York City in late June. Marie Driscoll, TRR contributor and adjunct professor at The New School, reports Hermès gamification works to “exemplify the modern path to brand engagement by turning spectators into protagonists in a narrative to find the missing horses. It’s magical!” The quest simultaneously reveals the artistry, innovation, quality and workmanship of Hermès silks, cashmeres, jewels, boots and handbags through an hour of escapism, suspending disbelief and pretending, along with seven-year-olds, to be a detective on the hunt for those rascal horses. Terrific fun – and when was the last time that word described haute luxe?

Education with a Purpose

Who are these brands educating? People who want to know more. Amateur connoisseurs who seek the deep, charming details of excellence and its inspirations. Brand gossip, if you will. The backstories. The tales of kings, queens and fashion divas. Certainly, few of these ‘students’ will go into retail. Rather, they are often high-end customers for fine goods who explore the details that brands and retailers used to train their sales professionals with to share in person.

These enriching educational collabs aren’t the attempted obfuscations of prior generations when Philip Morris and the Sacklers would hide behind museum wing endowments to cleanse their reputations through supporting the arts for the public good. These collabs aren’t the ‘pay attention to me’ promotional versions in which a sneaker brand claims the street cred of an athlete, or a snack brand elevates itself with a Selena Gomez to create a new Oreo flavor. No. These are pure plays based on the luxe shopper insight: She wants to know. And if she knows, knowledge is truth to purchasing power.

These educational programs are firmly grounded on the belief that more (knowledge) is better. Luxe brands realize it is more than fair to trust clients with their most scarce resource: Authenticity. It is becoming the essential differentiator. People want the genesis story of the brand, its inspirations, its current creative force, its – dare we say it? – relevance to them. We want to belong with a sense of self in our chosen culture. In a time when messages from nearly every source are suspect, when digital images can be manipulated into false meanings, when truth itself can be claimed and never proven, authenticity is the value which cannot be forged. Brands and retailers are having a tough time figuring that out, but other industries are taking it to the bank. Private wealth, art and real estate.

Tell Me a Story

What’s the difference between a luxe brand and a flop-sweat promotional one? Not money, this time. It’s having a story to tell. Plus, the imagination and wit to tell it compellingly. My daughter is a content creator for fashion and beauty brands. Daily, products arrive for her to unwrap and reveal on social media. Many times, it is from a well-known luxury brand seeking the word-of-mouth blessing an influencer provides. The flip side of the story? A profoundly commoditized sales rack in Macy’s with a $39.95 sign above it. No narrative to share with shoppers. No artisan backstory. No romance. No reason to make an emotional investment.

Desperately Seeking a Retail Future

Whomever in the middle of the retail muddle is able to trust and feed the shopper’s legitimate hunger to know more and have a story to share will win. If the days of knowledgeable sales associates are forever gone, surely there’s a pathway to celebrate and directly share the creative history, heritage and energy of brands which seek our investment in their offerings. Gen Z demands it. Private bankers get it. We need retailers who know the value of making relevant connections that enhance both collab partners.

What Happened to Emotional Brand Content?

Kate Newlin — Wed, 02 Oct 2024 10:00:00 +0000

Here’s the weird question of the day. What happens to the emotional brand content once our acquisitions are chucked in the dumpster and headed to landfill? Brand stewards spend minor fortunes to create brand equity, working hard to forge emotional and benefit bonds that ratchet up consumer loyalty. Then, what? I have this vision of the molecular – or maybe atomic — make-up of what marketing guru Kevin Roberts, former CEO of Saatchi & Saatchi termed “lovemark” brands slowly eroding in waste bins and on garbage barges. Infinitesimal sparks of joy flying away or decaying invisibly.

The emotional content of our brands serves as the mile markers on our life’s journey and the paths we chose. If we jettison those route signs, we may be at a certain risk. If we ignore the value of what we have purchased during our lives, it may be at our own cost. If we trash our brand meanings, perhaps we lose a bit of ourselves.

Gone and Not Forgotten

My lovemark brands that are distant memories but still have emotional resonance:

That Snickers bar we had to have because its emotional nourishment is still redolent of those hand-held trips to the store with dad when he was still young and alive and eager to introduce us to the sublime glories of chocolate and nuts.
That first Chanel suit we spied on the triple markdown rack at Bergdorf’s; its fit was perfect for the first major business presentation and client dinner afterwards.
That team jersey we snagged one carefree fall afternoon when our side won, and goodness and virtue seemed triumphant.
The fabulous rock group’s fabulous T-shirt that still reeks of euphoria, after hundreds of hot water cycles and snags that make it perfect only as sleepwear.

And yet. The magic that brands carry with them decomposes according to a law of physics we don’t study at business school: The half-life of brand meaning. Said another way: Once the cash register rings, do brand stewards care anymore? Or more to the point, which transactions don’t end at acquisition but rather increase in emotional value day-over-day, year-over year? And even more to the point, is it possible to predict the return-on-emotional-investment through a metric which tracks the after-market valuation and thus encourages giving passionate voice to the significance of consumer products post purchase.

Beyond products like watches, jewelry, designer handbags and luxury automobiles, what I search for is a mechanism brands can use to recognize and perhaps ultimately manage the after-market value of their marks in a manner which renews and revitalizes the entire portfolio.

Brand Values

At Nike they used to worry some kid somewhere would taunt another kid with the accusation, “Your mother wears Nikes.” No more. Now it’s part of the mission to ensure your grandmother sports the brand proudly on her Fitbit/Apple Smart Watch monitored walk. This is an observation, not a critique. Brands have to evolve with their customer bases.

Grand too that Tommy makes shirts in XXXL to stretch across even the most massive logo-conscious physique. Fabulous that even if you can’t afford red-carpet couture, you can spritz the star’s parfum and get a whiff of the brand’s emotional persona. But in reverse meaningfulness, the price of entry to a celebrity-aligned endorsement is lowered when the knock-off version is sold on the street corner.

Easy Come, Quickly Go

Coveted objects and knockoffs are both at the whim of a consumer’s freedom to toss the one-time beloved purchase into the dustbin of aspirational history. We live in a consumer reality that is disposable. But that transitory mentality is slowly, and relentlessly becoming an artifact of a thoughtless past. We are now in an era demanding a more conscious consumerism enabled by recycled retailing. Just as we begin to weep crocodile tears for the brands denuding themselves of meaning in the name of this quarter’s return and next Christmas’s bonuses, we head over to Depop, the buy-it-again site for previously loved, had-to-have-it wardrobe choices, and … buy it again.

And yes, The Real Real and others of its ilk showcase second-chance lusts. We remember the glory days of eBay when a first edition of Voltaire’s Candide was on offer among the family’s vintage silver service and original oil paintings. We now consider the beckoning subway ads for Chairish and AptDeco, which are spectacular curations of other people’s once desired but now unwanted furniture. To simplify the argument, the emotional quotient of a brand or object is also subject to recycling.

Emotional Brand Content at a Price

So, what happens to the emotional content of brands once they’re chucked in the dumpster and headed to landfill? Pretty quickly we have come to understand that even if modern commerce primarily enables the wash-rinse-repeat cycle of buy, wear, and toss, not everything fits that mold. In many cases, what once would have been tossed is making a comeback claim that is far more valuable

Take the case of a company like Canada Goose for example, which triggers a powerful authorized secondary market for slighted used but still desirable and eminently functional outdoor wear. Planting this consumer impulse to upcycle is prominently featured on its website.

Second Life

In a recent conversation with a colleague, we shared the remarkable and newly rediscovered joy of returning a flickering nightlight to its former greatness. Having once purchased this antique ballerina lamp for a little girl’s bedroom, we were now in the process of walking said fixture to an actual repairman, four New York City streets away. The reverence with which the lamp healer perused the ancient item, his deliberations over the cord, the rickety fragility of the glass shade, and the worrisome loss of the on-and-off toggle all added layers of memory and meaning to the remarkable personal value of the object. The experience manifested powerful emotional value to the sad little lamp. His attention reminded us that the lamp had been worth purchasing. It had been a delight in use for 14 years of our daughter’s life. It was now being given a reincarnation.

There was palpable emotional equity embodied in the lamp. All the hopes that predated its arrival in our home – the artisan who created it, the first, second and perhaps third owners – are somehow also embedded in its memory. The dreams of the little girl whose nightlight kept the dark at bay. Even now as she is grown up and enjoys a more sophisticated design sensibility, this emotional object cries out to be cared for and cherished. But how many of us would just chuck it down the compactor chute without thinking about it and search at Crate & Barrel for something new and suitable for a different purpose.

Rethinking the Material World

I submit that one brief tour around the average home reveals a world chock-a-block with the remarkable essence of what things mean. They have backstories and provenance. The once-coveted barber chair from ABC Carpet and Home. The decorative bedframe from that curious home design store near the railroad station in East Hampton. The china service for eight purchased from B. Altman’s before there was even room at home for a dining room table.

No, I’m not advocating a Snickers bar wrapper collection. But I do want to acknowledge that all the investment made by marketers and manufacturers striving for emotional significance infused into products should not be overlooked or undervalued. In our era, while we are searching and yearning for sustainability, we might trade off hand wringing over the supply chain and the hope for block chain magic for the sustainability of brand meaning, lovemarks and how we value what we buy.

The emotional content of our brands serves as the mile markers on our life’s journey and the paths we chose. If we jettison those route signs, we may be at a certain risk. If we ignore the value of what we have purchased during our lives, it may be at our own cost. If we trash our brand meanings, perhaps we lose a bit of ourselves.

Purpose-Driven Investment

Don’t believe me? Check out The Chernin Group, a private equity firm which describes itself as investing in “companies that define culture.” In May it bought a stake in Classic Football Shirts, a British company devoted to the purchase and resale of used soccer team jerseys, the kind fans buy and then leave in the drawer. The investment was $38.5 million to get a piece of the used shirt market, rather than – the company explained – put money into a team.

Think on that for a moment. Is the experience economy echo chamber about to be monetized by souvenirs that document “We were never there, but we wish we had been?” This turns the emotional equation of what we invest in on its head. From a sustainability perspective, the motivation to buy the jerseys and keep them out of the waste stream is admirable. But from an emotional brand perspective, they become a detached investment-grade collection.

So, my weird question of the day is how the energy and creativity put into creating lovemark brands can be tasked to reorient a once fickle consumer society that feels no pain in tossing our purchases away instead of savoring their remembered joys, repurposing them to fit in a more conscious future, and helping a new audience reimagine them into their lives. Just ask all the people in Ghana who have to deal with our unwanted apparel or the sanitation crews outside our windows hurling the plastic packaging, broken folding chairs and unused food into the elephantine trucks we need to cart away our one-time lusts.

Me-tailing Is the New DTC

Kate Newlin — Mon, 13 May 2024 10:00:00 +0000

Remember Moliere’s observation? “Writing is a little bit like prostitution. First, you do it for love. Then you do it for a few friends. Then you do it for money.” Turns out that applies to social media posts as well. If my 24-year-old pioneer daughter is any indication, Me-tailing is the new DTC.

Next-gen shoppers love Me-tailing. From a meta-perspective, it augers in an entirely new and potentially thrilling relationship between consumer and consumption. It is genuine disintermediation: The next wave of capitalism hits the shoreline, as the tech tide flows in.
So, it’s very tough to be the last major legacy retailer in the last mall standing facing Me-tailing.

The Mattie Newlin Saga

Presenting Mattie as a use case study, it’s instructive to consider the trajectory of the professionalization of her online feeds. She began more than a decade ago with a single-digit edition of an iPhone. She took photos taken then emailed or shared them via Facebook. That didn’t last long. Soon enough something called “The Mattie Newlin Show” began appearing on YouTube. (She removed most of the funniest episodes when wannabe bullies at her Jesuit high school mocked them. But hey! Nobody ever said it’s easy to be creative in front of people.) By college she had the full roster of media at her fingertips to share the news of her good and bad times: Instagram and TikTok became the must-see-and-be-seen, must-watch, go-to media of choice.

Fast forward, she’s now a full-fledged influencer working at the crossroads where nascent brands meet Gen Z. As Thoreau could say, “I have traveled a good deal in Concord.” Mattie, poised on our couch, journeys daily to far-flung trading outposts where emerging jewelry, apparel and beauty brands are spawned. Somewhere in an algorithm far, far away, one of her TikTok posts or product reviews triggers a manager at a public relations, advertising, or social media agency to reach out to her. Quite possibly from their own couches.

From that rare human-to-human (well, text-to-text) interaction comes the offer: a new bra, line of mascara, earrings, make up palette. What begins as “free” and “we hope you’ll like, share, review and post” morphs as her following grows into, “Here’s your Mattie Newlin discount code to share; when anyone uses it, you’ll receive 10 percent of the purchase.” Slowly, but inexorably her love of creating little films and vignettes transmutes into income. And why not? She follows in the aspirations of millions of us – starting well before Moliere observed it –eager to turn an avocation into vocation.

Emerging Entrepreneurial Marketspace

What Mattie and I are both learning by observing the ever-ascending monetization of her social profile is that she is on an unmapped trail in the emerging marketspace. She’s not exactly hacking away underbrush, but this pathway is definitely not well-trod, well-paved. As the amazing Joanna Moore, CEO and Founder of Since Tomorrow, argues compellingly on LinkedIn, “Mass fashion is dead, but not because people don’t want similar things. It’s because (the big guys) are selling them the wrong things by the wrong people and through the wrong content at exactly the wrong time.”

That’s harsh. I understand her to be taking both brands and retailers to task. Just because we don’t want her assessment to be true, doesn’t mean it’s false. The incredibly shrinking footprints of both malls and anchor stores are only Exhibits A and B of the “shrink our way to growth” highway crowded by those who speak foolishness to power. To be more specific: institutional shareholders.

The Luxury Crystal Ball

Putting on my futurist’s hat to gaze into the crystal ball, I see the high-end luxe brand world navigating a path that leads neither to Mattie nor over the cliff. My hypothesis is they’ve learned how to profit through “short runs” and bespoke products sold through a still-fabulous concoction of personal selling, celebrity users and aspirational pricing. They’ll also – as Kering and LVMH are already doing – shift gears and drive revenue by celebrity and entertainment content, forging entirely new and fresh means of commercialization. No real worries at the top of the pyramid.

DTC

Meanwhile, Mattie’s experience attests to the fact that the underbrush is rife with tiny, fledgling brands able to figure out design, manufacturing, and marketing while skipping the cut-throat world of retail distribution. Their audiences aren’t mall walking anyway; they are scrolling from their own couches, toggling back and forth from one feed to another, purchasing the tropes of a virtual friend’s virtual personality.

The style gurus once known as the fashion and beauty press are now curated by one fledgling fashionista for another, interrupted now and again by a Grub Hub delivery. One day, perhaps, a big retailer will come hat in hand directly to them in an online Fuller Brush/Avon model.

Collateral Damage

Think of those defunct jewelry kiosks, craft shops and bookstores. The ones abandoned without the life raft of foot traffic. The ones adjacent to the shuttered Macy’s, Nordstrom, and Kohl’s. The ones near Target. You know the ones who are stranded in a darkened mall, surrounded by naked mannequins and endless signs of “Liquidation Sale: Everything Must Go!!!” There are no wandering or bored shoppers left to entice. What’s worse, there are no products that can’t be found more easily and cheaply on Amazon.

Me-tailing

If “the medium is the message,” Me-tailers are the medium. Influencers are the media. From this perspective, it seems an engaging, personalized, tech-driven take on a small-town square. Young people “like,” “follow” and “subscribe” to many different takes on reality. Rather like a disco ball, the entire exciting universe is reflected, but it’s built one mirrored pane at a time. Very cool for the democratization of brand, co-creation, and collaboration within the community. Not so good for legacy retail department stores.

Next-gen shoppers love Me-tailing. From a meta-perspective, it augers in an entirely new and potentially thrilling relationship between consumer and consumption. It is genuine disintermediation: The next wave of capitalism hits the shoreline, as the tech tide flows in.

So, it’s very tough to be the last major legacy retailer in the last mall standing facing Me-tailing. I don’t mourn their lack of foresight. They stubbornly refused to know the obvious in decade after decade of refusals to apply the famous credo, “think global, act local,” opting instead to gain short term advantage by aggregated buying offices, mass advertising and brand efficiencies.

Personal Touch

What I do mourn is the death of in-person fashion retail excitement. The frisson at that moment of acquisition. I mourn the sharing of craftsmanship and gorgeous detail between a knowledgeable – genuinely knowledgeable – salesperson and a shopper she knows and understands. I mourn the quest for the “perfect” item and the “lucky” feeling of finding it. That still exists in treasure hunt stores, but the customer experience is sub-par in an impersonal utilitarian environment. And I mourn the thrill of bringing my purchase home and unwrapping the parcel from fresh tissue paper and ribbon.

Mattie experiences the arrival of each new influencer parcel as something like a child’s Christmas. She goes through the unwrapping ritual on camera, as the posting moment demands. When can we make traditional retail cool again?

Micro-dosing to Malnutrition: A Diet Culture Shift

Kate Newlin — Tue, 30 Apr 2024 10:00:00 +0000

There is a deep, dark secret consumers hide about packaged foods in CPG land: the amount of furtive, guilty snacking that goes on when the package of fill-in-the-blank (Oreos, Lay’s, Entenmann’s, Ben & Jerry’s, Peanut M&Ms) wakes us up at three in the morning demanding to be eaten. We heard this over and over again when we were conducting the hypnosis-based research which resulted in the 100-Calorie Pack series for Nabisco. What is CPG doing about the latest diet culture shift and the American obesity crisis?

It’s a Faustian choice. Our relationship with sweet treats can evolve into a personal choice between what we want to do and what we know we ought to do. It’s not rocket science to acknowledge that this struggle is the mechanism through which diabetes, heart disease, vascular diseases, and high blood pressure dominate our world. They enable the growth of the diet industry, fitness apps, and countless weight loss products. At the core of this diet sector are rocket fuel-propelling, billion-dollar unhealthful brands.

Diet Culture Shift

This comment was ubiquitous: “I don’t trust myself with the product. I have to bring myself home from the grocery store, but I don’t have to bring the Oreos home.” The wash-rinse-repeat cycle of fear and self-loathing was a constant across all fat, salt and/or chocolate-infused categories, along with the short-lived resolution to keep said products out of the shopping cart.

I say short-lived because the siren call of the sweet baked goods, salty snacks, candy and ice cream aisles becomes undeniable after a few weeks of “being good.” Our teeter-totter of impulse purchases moves from the joy of indulgent satiation to fear and then guilt. As it turns out, we’re not very good with deprivation but we definitely learn how to manage guilt. So, good intentions aside, the temptation of the portion-controlled tiny cookie that makes it feel safe to bring back into the cupboard is irresistible. It arrives in two packages at a time: the 100-calorie iteration for mom and the full-on calorie-packed ones for the kids.

But wait a minute. The snack syndrome starts in early childhood: Consumers guiltlessly insinuate the sweet reward cycle into their children’s after-school ritual, three Oreos and a glass of milk. As adults, we are both victims and perpetrators reinforcing an appetite that benefits from youthful metabolism knowing full well that as adulthood looms, weight struggles arrive like clockwork.

It’s a Faustian choice. Our relationship with sweet treats can evolve into a personal choice between what we want to do and what we know we ought to do. It’s not rocket science to acknowledge that this struggle is the mechanism through which diabetes, heart disease, vascular diseases, and high blood pressure dominate our world. They enable the growth of the diet industry, fitness apps, and countless weight loss products. At the core of this diet sector are rocket fuel-propelling, billion-dollar unhealthful brands.

What If

We’ve known the negative health consequences of delicious indulgence for decades. We know the New Year’s resolution cycle. We know the food industry’s holier-than-thou chant of variety and moderation is simply one more useless placebo.

But wait! What if? As in what if there was – oh, I don’t know – a pill or a shot that interrupted our otherwise insatiable desire for naughty late-night sweets and savories? What if consumers could shoot themselves in their tummies and, hey! Presto!, they didn’t want more cookies or chips. They actually wanted fewer. One regular-sized Oreo would be enough, even more than enough. What if one chip becomes unappealing after the first bite? What if news of that shot was heard ‘round the world, spreading faster than word-of-mouth or a Reels clip?

How would CPG respond? Well, some major CPG companies may decide to exit the food category altogether. P&G got out long ago, jettisoning Pringles and JIF among others. Unilever announced recently it was putting Ben & Jerry’s up for sale, along with Magnum and Hellman’s.

So that’s one hypothesis. And here comes private equity to the rescue, gobbling up the brands to create a new market structure and keep snack addiction alive and well.

Another potential outcome is well-documented: Smaller portions and packages, higher prices at the other end of the scale for people who can afford to pay more for less. Of course, there’s the corollary theory: Huge “value packs” for those who can’t afford to participate in the eat less/eat better economic model propelling the forced march to obesity of that cohort.

Nutritional Dystopia

A fourth hypothesis for big food may be to acquire the rights to clone appetite-suppressing medicines once they are available in a powder or tablet form. Add them as taste-agnostic ingredients to their products, positioning this version of their cookies, chips, and ice creams as the “safe and better for you” brands –at a premium.

My colleague and healthcare practice leader Len Tacconi considers an emerging marketspace based on his leadership tenures at Weight Watchers and HMR. He wonders about a straightforward and quite nasty hypothesis. What if we are now evolving into a bifurcated consumer market? On one side, the status quo of those unable to afford the value-add of routine appetite suppression and thus remain unhealthy and morbidly obese. Then there’s the group able to spend money to reduce – but not eliminate — their desire for fat, salt, and chocolate.

Asked another meta way, are we entering a new nutritional desert? One where appetites are sated by one perfect cookie at a time, not by one floret of broccoli. Salad bars are replaced by build-your-own-lick ice cream bars or one well-crafted, micro-mini customized Snickers bite. In short, a generation of consumers who are able to micro-dose their way to malnourishment.

Ok, this is an intellectual exercise, but it is based on a real concern about the food industry not facing the real facts pushing the snack industry to financial success with a nationwide obesity and poor health problem.

Regulating Wellbeing

A highly functioning society protects its citizens. Much of what we read about AI or environmental interventions to reduce climate change carries the caveat that some form of regulation or global oversight is required. My partners and I have even written our own white paper about a pathway forward on AI governance, in response to a call from the UN. However, there appear to be no guardrails in the American grocery stores or assertive actions among the CPG brands to reverse the obesity trends. If they want a wake-up call, just look at what happened to the cigarette industry. When a bag of chips is priced at $15 maybe things will change.

We’ll leave for another day our opinion of what the mass embrace of appetite suppression means for fast food, bars, serious cuisine, and liquor brands. Our new relationship with food, booze, even friendship, and society are all about to go through something of a sea change. It’s a blip on the horizon now, but when we look carefully, it’s growing larger.

We need systemic changes. Something more than celebrities boasting “Ozempic face,” at prices no one can afford. It’s possible that Novo Nordisk will become the new PepsiCo. And how ironic is it that a company based in Denmark where 18 percent of the population is obese compared to 42 percent in the US?

True Crime Retail Podcast

Kate Newlin — Tue, 13 Feb 2024 11:00:00 +0000

There was a time we could still envision when going to the mall used to be a joyous activity. Even an aspirational one. Even a social one. A place where people, especially young ones, wanted to spend their time and money. They still might, but it’s probably no longer an appealing option. There’s something new in consumer culture that’s more entertaining: This is the tipping point moment in the brave new world of the podcast. And I’m all in on a true crime retail podcast. Curious? Read on.

The podcast is a consumer paradigm shift. It’s not about facings, SKUs, and slotting allowances. It’s about storytelling. As for one of the highest growth sectors, True Crime, the scarier the better. It’s a disturbing insatiable appetite for something just shy of true horror. We are willing to scare ourselves silly by listening to some terrifying story whenever and however we leave home – car, bike, subway, train, plane, recumbent bike, or treadmill at the gym.

What Happened?

First, let me deconstruct the demise of the role of retail as popular entertainment. There’s a contraction of footprints in anchor stores. Why? The same old, same old malaise of whatever merchandise remains in stock. The obvious and relentless boredom of the sales staff who have not been supported by frictionless check-out. The endless “25 percent off!” signs establish that these items are not worth their original prices. Underlying anxiety is caused by gun-toting strangers in open-carry states who might become unhinged. The mall cops check IDs at the entrances in recognition of the nascent culpability of teens. And, of course, the universally acknowledged risk of pesky shoplifters masquerading as senior citizens.

If conventional mall-based retail is no longer a joyful destination, surely mass, convenience and drugstores offer hope. Or grocery must be the last bastion of retail health, yes? But perhaps not. Readily available home delivery of pretty much everything, all the time, everywhere takes the glow off the potential risks of shopping – especially when merchandise is locked behind acrylic gates.

Perhaps the food court offers a fresh rationale to lure us back to the mall. Do you take The New York Times Weekly News Quiz? Here’s a non-trick question from the December 29 iteration:

Retail sales from Nov. 1 to Dec. 24 increased from a year earlier, according to new data from Mastercard. Which of the categories below had the largest jump in spending?

Electronics
Furniture
Jewelry
Kid’s toys
Restaurants

Not even taking a moment to ponder, we all know it’s “restaurants,” right? Unlike retail stores, restaurants provide a compelling background setting for our own storytelling. Restaurants are fun. Engaging. Social. Relational.

Hear Me Now

What is more engaging, social, and relational? We are consuming podcasts at an impressive rate. Podcasting is a cottage industry with five million storytellers, hundreds of millions of consumers always ready to return for more, billions of dollars in subscription revenue and billions more in advertising.

It’s a consumer paradigm shift. It’s not about facings, SKUs, and slotting allowances. It’s about storytelling. As for one of the highest growth sectors, True Crime, the scarier the better. What an amazing intersection of cultural relevance: the fear and panic attendant to murder and mayhem that doesn’t involve us. It’s a disturbing insatiable appetite for something just shy of true horror. We are willing to scare ourselves by listening to some terrifying story whenever and however we leave home – car, bike, subway, train, plane, recumbent bike, or treadmill at the gym.

Cottage Industry

Here’s the kicker. The cost to manufacture and distribute this storytelling? Hmm. Think about it.

Imagine this real-life, even “ripped from the headlines” scenario: It’s 2018 and you have an avocation you want to make your vocation. You have little to lose, except some seed capital. You have a great passion for the category. You have a BFF who is similarly obsessed. You are a self-described true crime junkie. You have a day job selling medical supplies. In a different era, you might have tried to wedge yourself into emerging categories, maybe craft beers, organic Madagascar vanilla ice creams, or luxe chocolate chip cookies, trying to find a nook and cranny of white space.

Fast-forward five years. The Crime Junkie podcast is up and running. Indeed your brand has blossomed. Billions of followers. Half a million reviews, averaging 4.5 stars. Available in 171 countries. Your own production company offers multiple programs and brand extensions, including the kind of t-shirt, hoodie and coffee mug merch that shows how much your followers want to badge themselves to your brand. You travel the globe on press tours, making scores of personal appearances. Major national brands – the ones that did not hire you – now jockey for your endorsement. Google says you’re a millionaire many times over. All in five years. Wowzah!

You’ve done it, Monday afternoon after Monday afternoon injecting more stories into this astonishingly crowded field. The consumer appetite for true grit seems pretty much insatiable. The best algorithm wins. The most personal passion for the project wins.

I am seriously contemplating a true crime podcast of my own. Let’s call it The Red Ink Edition: Tales from the Retail Crypt. I’ll track the cold-blooded and vicious murder/suicide pacts of malls, Macy’s, Sears, Kmart and beyond.

I’ll chronicle how the bystanders in the financial sectors cheered on the true crime of debt accumulation, incapacitating victims one price promotion at a time, one pair of rose-colored glasses at a time, one inability to master storytelling at a time. It will be the renaissance of retail entertainment. Thrills! Chills! Horrors! And at last, a way to monetize retail’s systemic failure of the imagination.

Retailtainment and the Experience Culture

Kate Newlin — Mon, 08 Jan 2024 11:00:00 +0000

When I was president of a trend-based futurist company, I asked the founder’s sister how many people it takes to accelerate a trend. The answer was straightforward: “One person I know.” In the post-modern, digitally connected world of today, the answer remains valid with only one modest caveat: What does it mean to “know” someone? Which poses a further question: Can retailers deliver on that resonant need? That need to know someone? They are certainly trying.

Influencers are a cottage industry, working in league with brands and their agencies to leverage a publicly known personality to boost sales. Generative AI with charm and ever-increasing understanding engages us via conversational commerce to know us and better respond to the whim and caprice of our preferences in pursuit of share and loyalty.

Influencers, Real and Imagined

Influencers are a cottage industry, working in league with brands and their agencies to leverage a publicly known personality to boost sales. Generative AI with charm and ever-increasing understanding engages us via conversational commerce to know us and better respond to the whim and caprice of our preferences in pursuit of share and loyalty.

We follow and know our favorite celebrities, hoping to be able to scale the heights of ticket prices and score seats at one mammoth venue or another with our besties. Retail executives may believe deep discounting is the key to making their numbers and this year’s bonuses, but in the celebrity world, that is antithetical. Full price or even astronomical scalper’s price. There is no race to the bottom.

Freud famously wrote that all we want from life is to feel significant. Increasingly we gain our sense of significance in the reflected glory of an admired celebrity, one we know and believe –through the power of her lyrics, his soulful ballads or their paparazzi-fueled hijinks – knows us. These are the rare stars who touch us deeply through a magical amalgam of talent, imperfect behaviors, and social media. They engage us and acknowledge our existence as foundational to their success. They do not exist without us, and we, in turn, assume their identities. Win/win.

Branded Celebrities

Several years ago, we represented a famous singer who wanted to start her own fashion line, hoping against hope to gain distribution at a major department store throughout the country. We advised against that distribution approach because of one painful reality: Her nascent fashion brand spanning bags, shoes, and belts was destined to be shoved and shoehorned into the “25 percent off” barker’s cry of contemporary retail. Her loyal fans would never find her and those traipsing by the markdowns would prefer the well-established tropes of luxe.

Better, we said, to offer the entire collection within the full-price tent pole of her tour schedule. An admittedly slower build, but one that would credential the radical profitability of her brand, propelled by fan fervor. Concert passionistas will pay a premium to prolong the high of the moment and take home an exclusive tour memento with bragging rights. Think about it: The branded celebrity merch moves the brand out of the world of “I got it on sale” and into the much larger galaxy of “I was there!”

We also advised if she really, really insisted she wanted to work with legacy department and specialty stores – for whatever sentimental or ego-driven hopes – then invite the local retailers to be the sales agents/partners at the performance venues. Let the pros handle the sales and credit card authorizations and provide the co-branded shopping bags. More importantly, let them experience the demand for full-price goods firsthand. Perhaps it would provide the epiphany conventional retail demands if it is to survive.

Retailtainment Offstage

One can easily describe this celebrity phenomenon as retailtainment. That’s where it fits and yes, retailtainment is the future. Said differently, the experience culture is the future. Retail can choose to come along for the ride, or refuse. Powerhouse logos are emerging to ensure we brand ourselves with having been there, done that. Don’t take my word for it: Ask François-Henri Pinault, you know, the CEO of Kering, who purchased Creative Artists Agency (CAA) in September. What could Gucci, Saint Laurent, Balenciaga, Bottega Veneta, Brioni or Alexander McQueen possibly know about consumer aspiration? About the twinning celebrity with commerce? Let’s see how his strategy unfolds, but if you read between the lines, he’s got a big plan.

Stores in the Rear View Mirror

The future of physical retail may well be behind us. Retailers and brands and the careworn malls that have historically boxed them in are staggering through the forced march to the end game. We recently advised a major media company looking to pick clean the remnants of department store holiday marketing budgets. The media company thought it should deploy a national strategy to what it thought was a national retailer.

The truth was more site-specific: Only a third of the selected store’s remaining outposts were worthy of a marketing investment. In actuality, the retailer’s plan was to actively support only those locations, while holding in reserve its major marketing investments to promote post-holiday sales. This strategy was only a prelude to clearing inventory before announcing new rounds of Everything Must Go! store closings. Imagine the sad liberation of faceless mannikins, emptied glass counters and erratically sputtering light fixtures.

When we unpacked the retailer’s marketing agenda, they revealed they wanted a tie-in with music and personal appearances. What global concerts, shows and events – when they landed for a night or two nearby – could be coopted for retail excitement? Were there even local celebrities – marching bands, cheerleader competitions, showcase performances by the regional theatre group – who could be enticed to perform if promoted by the media company? Adjacency to the store was deemed a much more powerful draw than the goods to buy in the store itself. Even an anodyne Santa’s arrival in-store is no longer sufficient to spur sales of toys and games, as a witness to Hasbro’s recent Scrooge-infused, pre-holiday downsizing announcement of 1,100 employees.

Chasing Originality

How much can the celebrity market sustain? Beyond Barbiecore? Beyond Taylor Swift and Beyoncé as they expand their orbits from concert venue to multiplex to apparel and tchotchke juggernaut? The real focus is on the notion of experience, but it doesn’t always have to be celebrity-framed. It must always be significant.

My daughter’s favorite birthday present this year was one she gifted herself. She was shopping at a vintage pop-up in Soho and the proprietress admired her taste, understood her, and suggested a few items. In the ensuing conversation, Mattie shared her email address. Sure enough, the woman sent her an offer: For $100 she’d assemble a surprise package of items she believed Mattie would love. Whoosh! The package arrived in the timeline promised and was packed tightly with five perfect items. Fit, check. Style, check. Color (black and gray as befits a true New Yorker), check. And genuine joy, check.

My daughter felt what? Known. Understood. Seen. This was a worthy retail experience on a small scale with significance; personal, bespoke, at a fair price. This becomes the point of this retail report exercise. To be known. It can come in a curated moment in time or through the triangulation of celebrity. It needs to be authentic and real. As MasterCard used to tell us, “priceless.”

Proto Holograms Are Leapfrogging to the Future

Kate Newlin — Mon, 15 May 2023 17:00:59 +0000

I have seen the near future and it is speeding toward us at warp speed. Case in point: When I worked at Faith Popcorn’s BrainReserve, we began by interviewing a radical cross-section of amazing thinkers from academia, business, and entertainment, you name it. We’d ask them to envision the world of their practice 20 years hence. Then we would aggregate those snapshots to create a comprehensive futurescape. From that vision, we’d work backward — ‘back casting’ was the art term Faith coined for the process – to ensure our clients had a detailed roadmap to navigate their businesses and brands to and through that futurescape, while missing the potholes and landmines along the way.

Futurescaping

One client, a telecommunications giant, sparked our deep dive into the future of telephone technology. I remember posing a question to Faith’s sister Mechele, an integral part of leadership: When you can digitize yourself and send yourself through the phone lines, how many people will have to do it first before you dial yourself on a trip? Her answer was prescient in a variety of equivalent venues: “One person I know.” My question – misguided as it was, relying on our telephonic past to portend the future identifies a common misadventure for those of us who have ever donned a futurist’s hat. We may well be able to transport ourselves, but it won’t be through a landline, right? Which is why I can write now that I have seen the future as it barrels towards us. A future in which our hologram self goes whirling through the ether, enabling us to show up at speeches, live performances, and even in the witness box in court proceedings. Not to mention serving as an in locos salesperson to explain the vital quality proof points of a luxe brand’s trenchcoat. Indeed, the exact proof points deemed too boring for the IRL salesperson to look up from her iPhone to discuss with us.

Shapeshifting with Proto

In short, I have been to an art gallery at 507 West 27^th in the meatpacking district of Manhattan to see the Protohologram in action: “It’s not communication, it’s holoportation” explains my host. “Proto delivers a truly lifelike holographic experience so viewers can see, hear and interact with others, anywhere in the world.” As Proto states, it makes digital real by delivering truly lifelike holograms. Albeit they appear in a Proto “box.” It’s real. It’s live. It’s human. And it’s mind-blowingly otherworldly. Like so much of Web3 that will be whooshing through our lives in a nanosecond. Simply stated, the Proto is offered in two sizes: One life-sized and one more, well, manageable, rather like a small, flat panel and very smart TV, set to one channel. Whichever you choose, it offers up a hologram. Hey, there’s Howie Mandel and Heidi Klum! Look there’s Kim Kardashian! Now look, Sean Combs! Oh, is that really Paris Hilton? And isn’t that Degas’ Tiny Dancer sculpture from Christie’s auction of Paul Allen’s collection? Yes, it is. And then there’s this year’s cache of luxe bags from a couture house. Wait, isn’t that a well-known specialist consulting with a patient who doesn’t have to travel to gain her expert assessment of an urgent medical complication?

Magical Tech Thinking

We’re not digitizing ourselves and moving through the phone lines, but we are suddenly able to be in two places at once. Arthur C. Clarke’s famous dictum, the one which posits that “any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic,” is the only fitting descriptor for this moment rife with double-vision potential. Think of a Legoland competition beamed simultaneously all over the world. Noodling it with a few retailer colleagues, we quickly imagine an Italian designer ensconced in her studio in Milan and still able to be present on a Vietnamese manufacturing line to illustrate exactly how the lapel must lay. Or a trunk show for high-end customers happing simultaneously in major markets throughout the world. Consider the immediate VIP access to bespoke designs Hollywood stylists can provide their clients. Everywhere all at once.

Experiential Proto

Beyond fashion and apparel retailing, wider worlds beckon. If Kroger or Mondelez were to invest in this tech as display merchandising, imagine the playful real-time creations consumers could build out of Oreos and showcase right this very minute in aisle seven. Gamification comes to the food sector. Or consider the neighborhood bar’s jukebox replaced for special occasions by Proto in-person performances by world-renowned solo artists. Or the publishing industry’s fabled (and contracting) live author readings, signings, and interviews that can now take place everywhere and anywhere, sans travel costs and writer wear and tear. You might ask, isn’t this just a big Zoom call? Not really. Not when a whole 3D human appears before your eyes and answers your stunned gaze with a “Hi! You can see me, and I can see you!” One of the more remarkable aspects of this seeming teleportation is in the response of those of us on the other side of the screen. We believe we’ve met and visited with a distant person because we have. Perhaps even got a selfie with her. A woman who showed up at Christie’s London office to bid on the Degas Tiny Dancer was asked if she wanted to see the piece in person. She responded, “Oh no. I have seen it.” How? Because she’d visited the Proto installation at Christie’s New York. She thought the three-dimensional object rotating just beyond the glass was the real sculpture. Because, of course, it both was and wasn’t. It was a hologram, both real yet not really there. Business meetings, celebrity appearances, stand-up comedy, art auctions, solo musicians, how-to coaching from experts while we fix and repair our homes, learn a new language teacher, defend our doctoral dissertations off-site, acquire a new skill, discuss a book, get a second opinion from a specialist, bring our designs to life half a globe a way. It’s all on the cusp of this changeling moment called “now.” Magic making its way into reality. This is how the future presents itself. The same but different from how we imagine it. Talking with Mechele about the future of telephony, we imagined it would arrive through the phone lines. Had we had a 20/20 visionary vision, we would have told the client not to worry about the landlines but to hold onto those phone booths and then strategically locate them on every street corner. With a bit of rewiring, that real estate would be ready for its close-up: conversion to hologram boxes, and yes, every one of us could be digitizing ourselves and sending ourselves everywhere, anywhere, all at once. The implications for retail are impressive. When the technology hits ecommerce, we will have quantum leaped into a future that will up retail’s game forever. I think the implication for retail (even more than ecommerce) is staggering: Designers explaining their thinking direct from Paris or London to the Neiman Marcus high roller at home or ensconced in the personal stylist’s salon. (No longer needing to schlepp to the runways, a more personal, private conversation.) At the lower end of the spectrum, imagine Starbucks after-dark performances for Odyssey members able to hang out and hear Taylor Swift performing live solo (at every Starbucks location, simultaneously). Or the impact on manufacturing precision, when quality assurance is genuinely assured in real-time.

What Mark Twain Has to Say About the Metaverse

Kate Newlin — Tue, 28 Mar 2023 21:00:03 +0000

Remember Mark Twain’s observation about the weather? Everybody talks about it, but nobody does anything about it. Brand growth in the metaverse is quite like that. Yes, just like weather, Web3 seems conceptually important, but chaotic and well beyond our control. However, unlike the weather, we can do something about tomorrow’s marketing climate. Today.

Are You Ready?

As in any iteration of Jeopardy, let’s state the issue in the form of a question: Are we really ready to shrug and say scores of smart sportswear, fashion, beauty, retailers, and CPG brands are simply woefully wrong about betting on the metaverse? Really? As in Nike, Adidas, Vans, LVMH, Kering, Maybelline, Sally Beauty, Home Depot? It’s easy enough to call out the recent tech setbacks as evidence of too much, too soon: the crypto meltdown and layoffs in big tech. You might caution that irrational exuberance strikes again with the next big shiny tech thing, the metaverse.

Web3 and everything it heralds — from the metaverse and NFTs to Generative A.I. and beyond – is poised to accelerate the evolutionary pace of retail excitement, product marketing and revenue creation, giving rise to a new era of brand communities without borders.

Having spent the past year working in the very real world of virtual reality-based strategic development for several consumer-facing businesses, we have seen the future. Here it comes: The next iteration of reality – Web3. It is arriving as Carl Sandburg described on “little cat feet.”

We see the future though a haze at first with some glimmers of the blurred outlines of the “silent haunches” he described. What are those metaphorical haunches? Think of those digitized Hermès bags selling in the metaverse for more than In Real Life (IRL) iterations. We heard of NFTs alchemy trick transmuting dross into gold for digital artists and soon enough for Bud Light. Unchecked, here comes “WendyVerse and WalmartLand.

The Metaverse Revealed

The siren call of the next cool thing may claim our brief attention, but the metaverse is here right now chock-a-block with tactics. Admittedly, many of those tactics are forged by techies ready to thrill and amaze to win their day (or at least 15 minutes) of fame. But trust me, the market will move on from the current fleeting cool hunt, rife with its FOMO anxiety and “throw it against the wall and see what sticks” fail-fast logic.

Get ready for the genuine exploration of the potential of the metaverse as we seek clarity, strategic intent, and cogent frameworks through which to forge a sustainable competitive advantage. We’re on the cusp of being able to actually do something, something strategic.

Web3 and everything it heralds — from the metaverse and NFTs to Generative A.I. and beyond – is poised to accelerate the evolutionary pace of retail excitement, product marketing and revenue creation, giving rise to a new era of brand communities without borders.

What Took So Long?

There are four reasons we should move our metaverse thinking beyond cocktail hour patter, Twitter feeds and off-site breakout sessions.

For starters, the technology has become nearly ubiquitous: Every device everywhere all the time is connected, and those connections enable peer-to-peer, decentralized networks without Web2 third-party intermediaries (think Facebook) to monetize our behavior as data.
The emergence of remarkable 3D graphics enabling “mini-me” and “modestly-better-than-me” identities as our avatar better selves.
The concurrent emergence of viable Artificial Intelligence to make full use of natural language processing.
The power of the blockchain as a decentralized and secure form of a public ledger.

These complex technologies have become part of our daily layperson vocabulary. In short, we are feeling the headwinds of a perfect storm of tech possibilities.

Riding the Wave

Yes, there are also threats from emerging technologies for brands and businesses. But if we look the other way, we do it at our own risk. If we avert our gaze, we ignore vibrant new sources of growth, for established brands and for innovative startups eager to claim their share of the $700+ billion tech pie before the end of the decade. That’s this decade.

What we’ve come to understand is that VR is exactly, precisely, definitively like IRL marketing in at least one key dimension: Mission Clarity is Mission Critical. Brand marketing is simply one of five relevant and intelligent goals to pursue. There’s also Revenue Creation, Employee Recruitment and Training, Footprint Expansion and Operational Efficiency

Success in virtual reality for the novices and habitués alike requires discipline. Yes, there are five possible objective benefits (above), but the task of savvy strategists is to choose one and master it. Of course, developing Revenue Creation or Employee Recruitment and Training approaches may well come to benefit Brand Marketing, but build the marketing framework first rigorously and accept that serendipity may naturally follow.

Branded Realities

Consider then Brand Marketing as the number-one choice for the metaverse. Use some critical thinking to identify how to brand in a parallel world. Perhaps the foremost goal is to down-age a brand’s audience or ratify a youthful segment’s existing brand passion. For sure, young people are the indigenous population of the metaverse. For now.

Maybe it’s to reinvigorate the brand community’s declining level of excitement or enhance customer loyalty across channels. Or, to break the brand’s addiction to the intoxication of price promotion. Consider for a moment the margin available in sales of a virtual product vs its conventional IRL version. Alternatively, perhaps the goal is to improve the consumer journey wherever she experiences the brand, IRL or VR. In any case, here comes augmented reality at warp speed.

A Guide to Crossing the Threshold

It is crucial to know what we hope to find when we consider opening a portal to enter a virtual world. But first, we have to figure out which portal. Viable platforms abound: Animal Crossing, Roblox, Fortnight, Decentraland, Sandbox, RecRoom and the list goes on.
As with any visit to a new market, learning the language, the cultural norms, and social behaviors in a co-created metaverse community is as respectful and essential as it is IRL. Who would expand a brand to a new IRL country without first learning the lingua franca? The platforms can seem to be a series of interchangeable – and to the C-suite types which must fund the endeavor, goofily named – parts. But the mores, rites and rights of each platform diverge.
Next comes a series of questions about how to engage and how to create this form of brand expansion. Create a world, sponsor someone else’s world, do episodic events, launch NFTs? It’s much easier to decide once we know why we are playing in the metaverse and where to engage.
With the objective and strategies clearly top of mind, developing tactical KPIS and even ROIs in the evolving world of Web3 comes into focus with profound clarity. How many visits, how long do they stay, do they come back, is there IRL:VR:IRL circularity, what’s the impact on brand engagement and loyalty? What may seem amorphous and strange at first becomes clear, relevant, and business building.
Strategic development is best considered at brand and cultural pivot points. Those are dots on the horizon where consumer behaviors intersect with a brand’s core competencies and organizational will. Web3 is one such crossroad.

Timing Out

Now’s the time to do something about the metaverse. That something is beyond talking. That something is strategic. It seems relatively simple to contemplate the requisite cool factor tactics which might work to wedge a brand into this future. We have agencies and tech experts to chart the “this would be so cool” factor.

It is demonstrably more challenging to craft a coherent long-term strategy to leverage the audacious potential of Web3 to achieve competitive, margin-accretive, sustainable growth. That’s the real potential, as Web2 intermediated control succumbs to Web3 co-creation. If you haven’t developed a strategy, you may be close to timing out. The metaverse is real and it cannot be ignored if you want to be in the game along with all your competitors. This puts it in perspective: If the American Dream developers were considering this site today, they\’d skip it and build in the metaverse where they wouldn\’t have to deal with New Jersey blue laws on apparel sales, and all the mishigas of making sure the rides are rolling all day long.

A New Age of Curated Retail

Kate Newlin — Tue, 11 Oct 2022 21:00:11 +0000

One of the most often-referenced terms of the early years of this century is “disintermediation.” It is so frequently used it acquired its own Oxford Dictionary definition: “The reduction in the use of intermediaries between producers and consumers, for example by investing directly in the securities market rather than through a bank.” Since its early days in the financial markets, the term moved through the warp and woof of the economy, creating a kaleidoscopic new fabric.

Intermediaries

Yes Virginia, there really was a world populated with travel agents, insurance agents, answering services, town car services, messenger services, rental apartment agents: Intermediaries aggregating and then culling the universe for the best offers to their customers. Today personal disintermediation has upended entertainment and education, as well. Suddenly, we don’t have to rely on the programming algorithms of major broadcast networks, we can create our own schedules, hopscotching from Netflix to Amazon to Hulu. And don’t forget the University of Phoenix and countless online offerings from major schools, plus master classes from anyone and everyone. The digital cornucopia beckons.

Landlords can plug in the gaps on the street and increase traffic in, around and through the block, becoming a destination, helping create a sustainable oasis in a retail desert, and gaining a stake in the next big thing: small, perfect objects of desire.

Reintermediation

Yes, but. The cornucopia overwhelms. Now, reintermediation. Stage two of the economic transformation is made possible by the digitization of reality. We still crave an intermediary – a trusted buffer zone – between us and our purchases, although we no longer have to rely on spiffed travel agents, medallion taxis refusing certain fares, clueless tech guys in big box retail, smooth talking car dealers, bored saleswomen in the designer sportswear section, perfume spritzing ladies or the teen boys giggling as they point the way to sports bras in the athletic shop.

What is clear is that we have opted for new gatekeepers to point the way. Enter Orbitz and its clones. Enter Uber. Enter Airbnb. Enter Amazon Prime. There’s Stitch Fix, Trunk Club (Nordstrom), Birch Box and others delivering curated fashion and beauty to a front door near you. Hello FreshDirect.com and AmazonFresh.

Living in the Past

Yet, some areas of commerce lag the reintermediation transformation. Physical department stores in malls is one such laggard. Here we carry on as always. People like to shop for clothing, tchotchkes, back-to-school supplies, sheets and towels, trendy earrings, right? As long as they can have a corn dog, massive pretzel, or food court meal to visit while they wander around.

But what’s new? Here in New York City and other densely populated metropolitan areas, fresh fruit and vegetable stalls are on every other block, mobile coffee, and donut carts on every third corner, and food trucks of all nations stationed throughout midtown and at the entrances to most museums. Lovely, high traffic, cash businesses. Is this a sentimental trend to a village marketplace, or a new wave of curbside retail?

Curation and Site Specific

Curation by any other name is intermediation. As we walk around the urban and suburban byways post-Covid and bemoan the loss of American street front retail, we confront block after block of vacancy signs, interspersed with wary retail survivors and a few fledgling shoots, just beginning to sprout. One block on Madison Avenue in New York sports four vacant spots, the next only two. And that’s just on one side of the street. Malls offer a covered, air-conditioned, cascading waterfall version of the same visage. One tiny storefront outpost of a retail chain trying hard to coax customers toward it, the next one a blank set of windows with only the specter of naked mannequins to suggest its prior life.

It is the new shoots which inspire. Imagine a world in which boutiques spring up, site specific, knowledgeably curated, and confidently post-post-modern. Here are a few already in the running.

Blank Coffee, a savvy mark if ever there was one hosted by those whom one does not call baristas.
Madison Fare, a tiny footprint of international food labels and bespoke confections perfectly poised to be proffered in a gift box for your hosts at next weekend’s getaway or charmingly offered instead of the routine bottle of something at tomorrow night’s dinner party.
Unsubscribed, an apparel shop extolling the virtues of “slow fashion,” an admittedly difficult proposition for retail, but sufficiently compelling to prompt mothers to visit post-school drop-offs on a Wednesday morning, And not just on Madison Avenue, but in other bastions of episodically conscious consumption, such as East Hampton, Westport, Greenwich, and Palm Beach.

Reclaiming the Cityscape

Some of these new enterprises are quite content to do one thing well, and bloom where they’ve planted themselves. They seek to be the knowledgeable intermediaries to advise us not on everything, but only one thing. One thing they really care about. “I want to share what I’ve found and loved in my travels,” the founder, proprietor and only salesperson of Madison Fare says from behind the counter. “I sell what I love to people willing to learn to love it too.” What a thought. The best jam. The most remarkable pasta. The handmade chocolate bars molded to jigsaw puzzle pieces in creative packaging. Coming soon, refrigerated dinners to take home. It’s fresh and charming. Not dissimilar to the role Zona played on Greene Street in SoHo with personally curated home goods back in the 80s.

Perhaps fewer doors can also mean greater meaning and margin. Perhaps we will see the emergence of a retail paradigm to specialize in tiny extravagances. All of which causes the casual stroller to wonder at the short-sightedness of today’s retail landlords. All those empty spaces could become an urban arcade of curated possibilities. Then these landlords could provide business coaching, bookkeeping and financial acumen to these passionate, but perhaps less retail savvy tenants. Maybe change the model by offering reduced rents for a percentage.

In short, plug in the gaps on the street and increase traffic in, around and through the block, becoming a destination, helping create a sustainable oasis in the retail desert, and gaining a stake in the next big thing: Small, perfect objects of desire. Or, as one proprietor explained: “I’m not interested in making a killing. I want to make a difference.”