Category Archives: Retail

A morning with Paul Smith


When I was 16 and got my first job, the first thing I saved up for was a Paul Smith shirt from his shop in Nottingham – a five minute walk from the café where I worked.

That shop, just off Bridlesmith Gate on Byard Lane, was the same cramped boutique Smith had opened in 1970 to launch his retail career. It was still there when I started work in 1987 – by which point the designer’s London business had spread to four locations – and it’s still there in 2011 as part of what’s now a huge global chain. (There are over 200 Paul Smith stores in Japan alone.)

If I suggested that Smith keeping his original shop open to this day was testament to a lack of pretention, or that he’d “never lost his roots”, you’d probably think that was bullshit.

Unless, that is, you’ve ever seen him interviewed.

I defy you to watch the 20 minute video below and not fall in love with the guy and his genuine, unvarnished enthusiasm for life, design, cycling and – especially – silliness. It may just set you up for the year ahead.

Personally I’m most in love with the fact he’s never lost his Nottingham accent. The idea of Sir Paul asking Karl Lagerfeld “y’alright mi duck?” will never get old.

Modern packaging drives me nuts: Part 4

I’ve just read an interesting take from Russell M Davies on my long-running pet hate – overly matey language on packaging and marketing materials.

Writing in the latest Wired UK, Russell says:

I get loads of phishing spam; messages from my bank advising me that my security has been breached and that I should log in immediately to resolve the situation. How do I know it’s spam? Mostly because of the language, because every email gets the nuances of English usage slightly wrong. It’s not necessarily the grammar, it’s the deferential tone.

The phishers are too polite, assuming that banks have Honoured Customers and are Greatly Pleased to be Doing Business with us. They’ve not understood that most banks have decided not to be our servants, but our mates. They’ve ditched fake formality for faux friendliness. Which is worrying, because all the phishers need to do is hire a decent copywriter, or any English graduate with a reasonable ear.

That’d be a good alternative to the TEFL year wouldn’t it? Sit at home, proof-reading phishing mails, tightening up the language to match illicitly obtained brand guidelines and sound a bit like the back of an Innocent smoothie bottle. Just think – all that sits between us and enough embezzlement to force the total collapse of the global finance system is the laziness of English-literature students.

Davies is right, of course – even banks are at it these days.

The primary example is Barclays, who revamped their signage and literature in 2006 to adopt a new, friendlier tone of voice. Not such a bad idea, except some of the results have been clunky to say the least (you can read Charlie Brooker’s less measured thoughts here).

Take this example – a Barclays pen dispenser.

No quibbles with the first line. But all that “your place or mine” stuff? Just plain weird.

I understand, of course, what Barclays are trying to say with this wording (mainly ’cause I recall the revamp being sold in the press at the time as “an end to pens on chains“).

So how about this instead?

Need a pen? Be our guest.
You can keep it if you like.

It’s simple, it’s graspable in the split-second you’re likely to spend putting your hand into the box, and it’s still friendly. But I’m sure it’d be rejected by the client as quirkless: lacking the all-important Innocent factor.

I’m not sure whether or not this is the company which helped Barclays create these results, but Afia are “tone of voice specialists” who name Barclays as one of their clients. On their page about the bank (I’d link to it, but the whole site is in Flash, so I can’t) somebody (who isn’t named) has this to say:

There are a variety of activities that we can employ to get the tone of voice used throughout the organisation. I think of them as top-down and bottom-up, or air strike and ninja insertion.

I promise I’m not making this up.

Why does Subway smell the way it does?

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Sometimes you just don’t need Google Maps or GPS.

There are two businesses on the high street which announce their location – pleasantly or obnoxiously, depending on your viewpoint – before you’ve even seen them. You simply need to follow your nose.

One is Lush, of which more another time. The second is Subway.

I used to walk past a Subway every morning on my way out of New Street station. It’s at the top of an escalator, but you only had to get halfway up before the restaurant was assaulting your nostrils: a delicious, herby bread smell. I never succumbed, but if I’d been walking past at lunchtime, I probably would’ve.

However subconsciously, Subway’s smell is as much a part of its brand as its famous logo, or the “Doctor’s Associates” copyright notice on its advertising.

(I always feel the latter detail is a sneaky attempt to give the brand – and its low-fat sarnies – a veneer of medical approval. Actually Doctor’s Associates – Subway’s holding company – is so named because one of its founders has a Ph.D in physics. But I digress.)

It’s not just the UK’s cities that find themselves shrouded in a sandwichy smog. The Subway aroma spans the globe – and it’s utterly consistent whether you’re in Moscow or Monmouthshire. Blogger Rifka Seltzer writes:

It smells EXACTLY the same on Grand Concourse in the Bronx as it does on Pacific Coast Highway in Laguna Beach. No matter where you go, Subway smells the same. And it smells strong. Actually, I noticed this when I was in Berlin. The Subway at the entrance of Ostbahnhof reeked of that…I don’t know…Subway smell.

Now, everyone knows retailers can, and do, pump carefully-chosen fragrances into their shops to drive sales and footfall. Here’s one device which can do the trick – with a range of cartridges available replicating everything from bacon (scent 127) and fresh ground coffee (88), to suntan lotion (110) and burning plastic (117), via the quite alarming-sounding smell of “internal horror” (1011).

And when I searched online, the first page I found about “That Subway Smell” suggested the signature bready odour “is clearly being pumped mercilessly out of the shop by wind turbines resembling jet engines”.

But this was a lone voice. No-one else concurred – not even the 1,346 members of the I Work(ed) At Subway And It Made Me Wanna Cut Myself Facebook group (who presumably should know). It would appear the smell is a genuine by-product of the baking process. Mark Evanier reports one Subway staff member as saying:

The problem is that despite what the ads might lead you to believe, Subway shops do not bake their own bread from scratch. They thaw and then bake frozen dough. I’m not sure if it’s in the thawing or the baking or both but the smell comes mostly from that. I realized that from working there and noticing when the smell was at its worst. It clings to the pans and racks that are used in the baking process and it also clings to the people who work there, as any of their family members will attest. I think it has something to do with the yeast in the dough.

I think it also comes partly from the marinara sauce with the meatballs in it, especially if we haven’t been selling a lot of meatball sandwiches that day. The longer the meatballs sit in that sauce, the more you can smell them throughout the shop. The smell you notice is a combination of those two fragrances.

In his pragmatically-titled 2007 post The Smell of a Subway Restaurant on Your Clothing is Inevitable After Eating There M. Marcus claimed the chain were actively trying to reduce the odour by:

installing more ceiling fans into their stores to have more ventilation. In addition, the entrance and exit doors are being left open so that fresh air can come in and the smell of fresh bread can go out.

Maybe this is the right idea – at least if you agree with one Australian blogger’s view that “the smell of yeast/herbs/bread makes Subway smell like someone farted”.

You may also be in favour of greater ventilation if you work there. Back to Facebook again, where “Amanda” writes:

DO NOT leave anything from work in your car.. I used to leave my visor in my car.. I cant anymore, my car seems to always smell like subway, and I am embarassed to have people in it… I CLEAN IT EVERY WEEK!!

Final word to Subway worker “Janine”, who appears to speak for many when she opines:

the smell of the whole place is enough to make me want to puke! i cant stand being anywhere with that smell on me.. and IT DOSENT GO AWAY! its in your hair even in your underwear! meatballs!! omg puke!!!

OMG puke indeed.

Anyway, hold on to your nostrils, because even if Subway aren’t deliberately shoving their emissions in your face, plenty of other people will be in future. There’s even a name for it: coercive atmospherics. Consider this 2006 experiment on behalf of the California Milk Processing Board:

A bus shelter usually isn’t the kind of place where people want to breathe deeply. But that may change in San Francisco next week at a few of the shelters that will be infused with the scent of fresh-baked, chocolate-chip cookies [...] The just-out-of-the-oven cookie bouquet will be embedded in scent-infused adhesive strips. They will be affixed throughout the interior of the shelters, including underneath the seats.

Just one day after their installation, the strips were removed, apparently due to allergy concerns. But as Jonathan Zittrain expounded, in truth San Franciscans’ concerns probably ran deeper than that:

Olfactory advertising is crossing a line [...] When it’s as easy as stickers, suddenly any place of public accommodation can assault your senses with whatever smell is paid for. Unlike the use of even large billboards, there’s no easy way to avert your nose the way you can avert your eyes, making the advertising much more invasive. Sure, magazines have those smelly perfume ads — but only once you’ve decided to open the magazine and try to read it.

Imagine, in other words, spam that really smells of SPAM.

You, my unfortunate friend, have sniffed the future.