Recalling five-and-dime memories
Dollar stores channel the cheap chic of five-and-dimes, but they don't register the same charm, writes
As the pandemic rewrites so much of life's rule book, let us rue for a minute the loss of spare change — the satisfying jingle of coins in pocket that meant a coffee (made that hour, if you were lucky), a doughnut (gelatinous and gluttonous) and the daily rag (typos at no extra charge).
And if you were truly a-jangling, it heralded an entrance pass to the beloved bazaar of the postwar consumer, the “five-anddime.”
The only “clicks” were heels on linoleum floors and the only “drag ” was being carted off by mother before you'd finished your rounds in the toy aisle.
But though we now point-andpay with smartphones and line up at big-box stores for bargains, the discount shopping trend that began with the five-and-dimes, once a feature on nearly every North American Main Street, continues unabated in the form of dollar stores.
We can't get enough of these everything-for-a-buck (or so) emporiums. Perhaps driven by a well-earned reputation for appreciating value for money (OK, we're cheap), Canadians from all income levels, ethnic groups and neighbourhoods have embraced discount chains, says Canadian Grocer, which is increasingly concerned about incursions into its territory.
Management consulting firm Kantar expects low-cost shopping to grow at twice the national average for retail through 2022, and Montreal-based Dollarama — the largest discount chain in Canada — recently announced plans to increase its stable of 1,356 stores by nearly 50 per cent within the next decade, despite the economic ravages of the pandemic.
Said chief executive officer Neil Rossy: “We achieved solid results in a truly unprecedented year, which reconfirmed the resilience of our business model and relevance of our offering to Canadians from all walks of life.”
The ka-ching factor is undoubtedly traceable to the early five-and-dimes. Yet today's dollar stores, with their harsh lighting and utilitarian layouts, lack any of the charms of their predecessors.
Take Kresge's in Hamilton, Ont. Once a feature in hundreds of cities across the continent, the discount retailer was five-andten down to its tight-fisted purse strings.
But when it opened in 1930, it was also an “urban showpiece,” a point of pride for the steelmaking hub that boasted marble stairs and terrazzo floors. Bakers turned out cakes for legions of loyal customers, and old-timers reminisce over its famed Richmond Room.
“It would be a mistake to compare Kresge's to an outfit like Dollarama,” says longtime Hamilton journalist Paul Wilson, writing for the CBC about the city's shifting retail landscape. “Kresge's had a long, marble lunch counter. And a cafeteria. And a kitchen and bakery upstairs where they made the fancy white cakes that sat in the front window.”
It was Canada's last Kresge holdout when it closed in 1994 — “a shadow of its former self” — thus bringing to an end the vision of a U.S. businessman who, along with F.W. Woolworth, laid the groundwork for the cheapis-chic ethos of today's Giant Tigers, Winners, A Buck or Two and countless others.
Connie Carson, writing for the downtown Belleville business improvement district in eastern Ontario, has vivid memories of her local Kresge's.
“The red vinyl stools were designed to swivel in a full circle,” she recalls.
“Cakes and pies were showcased in glass domes and metal soda holders were used to hold paper Dixie cups for the fountain pop drinks. Many of us school kids could be found after classes eating our fries and gravy and browsing this magical store.”
For many, including myself growing up in British Columbia's Fraser Valley, it was Woolworth's that defined five-and-diming. More than a mere shop, it was a high school hangout, a crucible for Christmas gifts and the playing ground for “spot-the-store-dick” — a parlour-game distraction on drizzly afternoons.
The lunch counters, so wellloved in their time, were actually an import from the U.K. and would give rise to the modern-day shopping mall food court. They've also shaped history: The Woolworth's cafeteria in Greensboro, N.C., was the setting for a 1960 sit-in during the civil rights movement in the U.S.
By 1979, its 100th anniversary, Woolworth's had become the largest department store chain in the world. You wouldn't know it now, the brand all but wiped from existence apart from the Foot Locker chain through which it nominally remains.
In Britain, however, a few diehard “Woolies” fanatics keep the tills ringing — at least virtually — at the Woolworth's online museum.
It's a treasure trove of memories, but is remarkably clear-eyed for all that.
“There can be little doubt that if Frank Woolworth (were) starting out today it would be on the internet, with its low costs and mass reach,” the curators say. “But that is cold comfort for those who loved and cherished the stores in Britain, Canada and the U.S.A.”
It's unclear how lingering pandemic fears, online shopping and the growth of a cashless society will affect retailing in the long term, but the ghosts of pioneers like Kresge and Woolworth can take comfort knowing that consumers still cherish a good deal — especially if you can have a little fun in the, er, bargain.
“What the dollar store has done so beautifully is create what I like to call the affordable treasure hunt,” sums up marketing expert Tony Chapman, speaking to CTV News. “There is a sense of excitement. Where with Walmart, I'm buying stuff that is just cheap.”
Whether it's with a pocketful of five-cent pieces or an overworked debit card, few can argue with that sentiment.