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Whatever happened to plain talk? I can't remember the last time I heard an unadorned question followed by a succinct answer. Why use a few words when a whole bunch will do?

The world of politics is full of such language enhancements. Not long ago, a very tight race was called dead-even, now it's statistically insignificant. A candidate who is losing favor has rising negatives. Traveling staff are the advance team and favorable explanations are positive spin.

Occasionally, inside words get too far ahead of the mainstream. What begins as an effort to clarify can have the opposite effect. Music was once mono or stereo; now it's analog, Dolby, digital, Dolby digital, Surround, Surround digital, Digital 5.1 or something totally confusing called DTS. While I'm sure all this techno-talk matters greatly to those in the recording or film industry, most of us could care less. In a world where setting the time on a VCR is considered a giant leap forward, this high-tech mumbo-jumbo is a nonstarter.

Retail doublespeak

Retailing is not immune. A tough month is the result of soft sales. Start-ship and complete dates comprise the delivery window. And what was once called "a good eye" is now known as trend spotting.

Faster and faster, along with everything else around us, words are changing. Like last season's pet rock or Beanie Baby, some words become outdated or take on a different meaning. This is a concept retailers can relate to. Niche is a word that has evolved. Specialty retailers have been told for years that "operating in a niche" is essential to their long-term success. The problems is, "niche" ain't what it used to be. Niches that were once adequate to drive strong volume are now simply the way everyone is doing it. No different from the examples above, the notion of a sufficiently narrow retail niche has changed. The state-of-the-art has moved on.

An ever-tighter focus

More than a year ago, I began a client relationship with an independent specializing in dressy dresses or what the apparel industry calls special occasion. The store also sold some daywear and sportswear, which was the initial problem. Big apparel stores can live in both the "evening" and "day" worlds, but not specialists; they need to be much more focused.

The first order of business was to narrow the niche by eliminating the great majority of everything not relevant to the designated "dressy" niche. This took about six months and more than a few markdowns, but was accomplished without too much pain. Next, the advertising was changed to intensify this new focus and the logo and graphics were redesigned. Initial results were very positive -- inventory was dramatically reduced, sales remained as before and margins improved. All in all, not bad for the first 12 months of our relationship. But even though the overall efforts were decent, the store's inability to increase its prom and party dress business was troubling.

Initially, it was thought that a store focused exclusively on special occasion dresses was sufficiently differentiated and, with only a few changes, would be unique and narrow enough to be considered "niched." That proved not to be the case. To further increase sales, it became apparent that the more mature side of the store would need to be separated from the younger and trendier side. To continue to grow, it became necessary to further narrow the original concept and create a second store that could do justice to younger customers. Upon reflection, this is no different from The Gap evolving Banana Republic and then Old Navy. And, on a much larger scale, Home Depot evolving Expo Design Center. Said differently and more profoundly, as retailing evolves, specialization intensifies.

The new store concept is progressing quickly. About 1,000 square feet will be annexed from the main store, a design professional has been hired and the retailer has begun to create a store specifically targeted to younger, trendier customers.

Much to everyone's surprise, the requisite new-store decision process has become surprisingly easy. No longer is it necessary to "live in both worlds." Inventory is logically separated, vendors easily assigned and potential employees more quickly identified. As for the store design, the retailer is in heaven. Edgier, more challenging design elements that would have looked out of place in the main store, are instantly an option. The same for lighting, paint and floor surfaces. Even though the new store adjoins the old, considerable effort is being made to disconnect the two. In addition to the merchandise and physical store, the staff will be trained differently, the new store name will be unrelated to the old and advertising will be entirely different. The more the new store appears to be the work of another retailer with an entirely different point-of-view, the better. Opening is expected in 45 days ... film at 11.

It's time to commit to a purpose

"Increasingly narrow" is the new ticket for specialty independents. But this isn't an evolution exclusive to apparel retailing. In malls, carts and kiosks are proliferating. Check any local newsstand. You'll find magazines that are more "niched" than ever -- Cigar Aficionado, Gay & Lesbian Review, Vegetarian Times to name a few. The list is long and growing. And what about mail-order catalogs so narrowly focused they defy logic? Detroit now sells more specialty vehicles than true cars. Numerous restaurants have drastically reduced their menu size but do a better job with much less. Boutique hotels are sprouting up everywhere. Even in the airline industry where consolidations have ruled, there is an increasing number of small, targeted startups.

In more than a few specialty stores, carefully selected presentations of limited inventory are winning out over broad, watered-down assortments. Customers don't have time to search through a store to find out if it's for them. They want to know instantly. I call this "love it or hate it merchandising." The customer either belongs or not. The merchandise is either right or it isn't. The same with the staff, displays, architecture and so on. Nothing is vague. The store either connects with the customer or it doesn't. And doesn't is OK. In fact, it helps to clarify what's going on.

Mother-of-the-bride and prom don't belong in the same store. The same might be said for run-of-the-mill green goods and exotic, hard-to-find succulents. Or what about inexpensive, mass-produced pottery and Italian, hand-thrown ceramics? Narrowing down a garden center may not be as easy as a dress shop, but the customer is moving in that direction. When the merchandise assortment is too broad, neither the price customer nor the selection customer is comfortable with what makes the other happy. It's increasingly more difficult to have it both ways. For me, it's time to stop trying.

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© 2002 Branch-Smith Publishing