Department stores need glamour to survive
House of Fraser hasn’t exactly made itself an indispensable part of my routine lately. Its collapse into administration (only to be bought by Mike Ashley, of Sports Direct notoriety) is still sad.
We seem to be inexorably inching towards an abyss, at the bottom of which are high streets increasingly resembling sad, toothless smiles. I suppose if their properties are turned into affordable flats, Generation Y – and their parents – can take some comfort. But things will be awfully quiet on our high streets, and there’s the awkwardness of mass job losses.
It’s tough out there. Greedy landlords, draconian parking restrictions and the convenience of internet shopping are all factors. But resourceful, passionate shops are thriving. It’s hard not to conclude some of the wounds are self-inflicted.
So many formerly glamorous department stores now look drab and neglected. I was amazed by the bedraggled state of a major player on London’s Oxford Street. There were barely any staff to be seen on the upper floors. On the other hand, there was plenty of dust on the shelves.
The experience was a bit like visiting a remote region of the tundra, but less uplifting. If you ever feel overwhelmed by the sheer number of humans in the world, I recommend the third floors of department stores as a place to find calm. Don’t count on peace though, because they’ll probably be playing some tinny music.
Even more amazing than the air of despondency was the complacent response of that chain’s chief executive when I mentioned their flagship looked a bit worse for wear.
It’s not just mid-market stores that seem to have lost their way. Take the exchange I had this week when I called Selfridges, to check whether they had any Dyson fans left in stock. “Sorry,” said the operator, “we don’t have the resources to provide the information any more. You’ll have to come into store.”
Sorry, what resources? You’re not the NHS. All anyone in electricals has to do, surely, is glance at their computer.
High street stores ignore customer satisfaction at their peril. When we can buy everything at the click of a button, get it delivered the next day, often free of charge, and are given very generous terms for returns, the main reason for going to an actual store is human contact and scratching those itches that online can’t reach. “House of Fraser?” remarked a colleague yesterday, “the only time I went there was to get my eyebrows done.”
In that case, bring on the eyebrow bars, the massage rooms, the salons, the key-cutting, the handbag restorers, the sales staff who really know and care about their products.
I can still remember having lunch in the restaurant with my mother in Beales of Bournemouth while an actual fashion show took place. Wonder of wonders to a six-year-old. Bring back the thrills, before it’s too late.