New Year’s (Low) Resolution

Whereas the year is fresh, this new start seems to call for a more blurry-eyed look at the everyday – as if looking through the crinkled cellophane on a packet of jujubes.  What better way to look anew than through the lazy eyes of a pinhole camera.  As discussed once before, it may be that the hazier the image, the more you see. 

 

Photo finish

On the 31st of October, the kiosk where I worked last summer closed its doors.  Although it could have been a sober day, the closure signals a great relief for the managers who have other projects on the go – projects that tend to generate more income.  

The challenges of convenience retailing cannot be overstated.  In a neighbourhood saturated with Tescos and Sainsbury’s, it is hard to stay afloat.  Not only do chains enjoy huge volumes of loyal shoppers, but they also have much larger profit margins than smaller shops.  For example, a bottle of water may cost Tesco 20p and is sold for 53p.  Instead of purchasing the water directly from the supplier – like Tesco – smaller retailers buy the same bottle at a cash-and-carry for an inflated price.  At my kiosk, the same bottle is purchased for 30p and sold at 52p.  Although you will find this bottle sold for £1 or even more than £1.50 (at both independents and chains) my kiosk held fast to its commitment to compete with Tesco on price.  (Did this seal their fate?)  This example may be slightly deceptive, as the mark-up on water is relatively high, compared to something like cigarettes, for example, which are marked up only 6%.  In any case, any kiosk relies on volumes, something that this one did not enjoy. 

Low volumes and margins mean empty registers and limited capacity to purchase new stock.  The challenge of filling the shelves was a persistent ordeal over the months I spent at the shop.  Without an abundance of product, attractive displays are difficult to create.  In addition, if customers aren’t sure to find their Mayfair Superkings or Extra Cool Breeze every time, they will soon find other more dependable retailers for their everyday purchases.

Shelves stayed empty due in part to challenges of buying stock and also as a result of product expiry.  Enjoying attractive offers at cash-and-carry shops meant that expiration dates often arrived before products were purchased.  Our in-kiosk offers, and strategic positioning, couldn't always clear them away.  Restocking the empty shelves was often funded through the managers' other jobs.  In fact, these other jobs tended to support running the kiosk.  To add to the challenges, with margins so low, the managers were never able to pay themselves, and working at the kiosk meant not working at their other paying jobs.  

Under the flourescent lights, we packed up the stock in Tesco carrier bags and large black bin liners – our fingers black with the dust that collected over the summer.  The shop took a surprisingly short time to pack and was collapsed into a pile of plastic bags within a couple hours. 

It was strange to displace items that had amassed so many stories, and so much familiarity, over the summer: the Mars bars that melted in the crawl space during the heat wave; the assorted sizes of Doublemint gum – bought by accident – which always posed a challenge for pricing and display; the Chew-its that required extra dusting in the folds at their square ends; the boxes of matches that didn't quite fit in the TicTac containers used for their display... 

With any luck, the managers will sell some stock to other shops.  The rest will likely be consumed at home or sent to family in Bangladesh.  I also took a number of things as well at a deeply discounted rate.

Brandscape Architects

After a trip, a move, and a short ailment, I’m back wandering the streets of Camden.  At times, I’ve been doing so in the company of representatives from corner shop brands. 

Each ad hoc display is an assemblage of material brought together by different actors, and branding reps play an important part in this curation.  As well as information about current promotions, these reps provide shops with a bounty of branded materials, including carrier bags, canopies, posters, stickers, sign boards, Ramadan schedules, Oyster card holders, window displays, leaflets, and pads of sticky notes.  While some of this material is used at the discretion of shopkeepers, materials are most often put up by the reps themselves.  The reps also advise shopkeepers on styles of display and, when allowed, reorganise products.  They may, for example, move their products to the front and centre of a display or assemble like products so direct comparisons can be made by consumers.

As discussed in earlier posts, brands become markers for ad hoc shops and help announce shops’ presence in space.  The identities of brand and shop are intertwined, especially in kiosks, which seldom display a business name.  To discuss these connections with a brand representative, I suggested how the Wall’s sign acts like the barber pole of the corner shop.  To further my analogy, he told me his posters are like the hairstyle photos inside the barber shop – they tell customers what’s on offer and educate on the latest styles.  

Competition is fierce for surface area and – with shop keepers’ permission – reps will cover the promotional materials of others.  Although reps remove outdated posters, layers of material are evident on all surfaces.  Constant visits to these shops ensure that materials are current, unobscured, and in good shape.

Material properties of the promotional stuff and the shops themselves pose challenges to the reps.  In one shop, packing tape doesn't adhere well to a new "silent" plastic newspaper box.  In another, a stairwell in front of a shop window makes applying stickers a challenge for Lyca reps, whose stickers are sticky only on the back.  Unlike Oyster stickers with double-sided adhesive, they cannot be applied from the inside.  Each new addition is documented with photographic evidence and submitted to the brands’ head office. 

Some reps explain that shop keepers are fortunate to don their brand.  They believe the benefits of brand association are payment enough.  Others offer shop keepers product vouchers or cash to display their promotional materials.  In either case, many brand representatives strike exclusive deals with shop keepers, to limit the presence of other branding on the shop front.  In businesses with such small margins, these deals are hugely advantageous.  Interactions between brands and shop keepers are not without dispute.  Negotiations for exclusivity are on-going and some shop keepers shared their frustration after waiting months for canopies promised after reps reorganised their displays.  Many are still waiting. 

Mind the Gap

I recently found the tumblr blog Things Organised Neatly.  Perhaps it’s a hint of OCD that makes me revel in this sort of order.  Using the “align” tool in Adobe programs – to snap multiple edges in position or distribute objects evenly across an art board – gives the same sense of thrilling satisfaction.  (Surely I’m not the only one who reorganises my spice shelf or wallet to unwind.)

Although the modern aesthetic most often celebrated on Things Organised Neatly may feel miles away from the tangle of ad hoc displays, parallels can be made and seen.

As noted a couple posts ago, there is logic to the organisation of things.  The logics described earlier were more pragmatic, but they guide aesthetic considerations too in the curation of ad hoc shops.

I'm told that above all, gaps should be avoided.  They make shelves look undersupplied and interrupt the smooth plane of goods.  If a product is out, another should always be moved to its place, brought flush to the shelf edge.

In the kiosk where I spend time, stock for products new and old is always coming in, requiring a daily shuffle to ensure spaces are filled.  This sometimes necessitates putting products in another brand's box, finding aptly sized products to fill specific gaps, combining several products in one container, or cutting display packages so they better slide in spaces available.  It feels like an immersive game of Tetris – known as the “brick game” in Bangladesh.

In most shops, colour is also a concern, as it differentiates products from each other.  Similar products with similar colours must always be separated by a contrasting colour.  Most importantly, like products should be grouped together – similar scarves together, gum with gum, like toothpastes in proper piles. 

 

On slow days in the kiosk, we play cards and watch the neighbourhood whirl around us.  When people walk by, they almost always look, but not at us necessarily.  As they pass, it seems their eyes skim across the array of shiny packages.  Their focuses don’t linger at any one point, and I doubt they’re really looking for anything.  Instead, I think the eye enjoys gliding over the flush plane of branded things.  Their neat organisation entices the eye and must improve patronage of the shop as well.

Olympic Hurdles on the High Street

A few weeks ago, a colleague of mine forwarded a Daily Mail article detailing the makeover of “tatty” Leyton High Road in East London.  The revitalisation was done in anticipation of the Olympics and the arrival of the torch relay.  These images, from the article, illustrate the transformation:

I won’t elaborate on my reservations about imposing a conservative English village aesthetic on one of London’s most diverse neighbourhoods.  (There's a lot to unpack here!)  Instead, I’d like to focus on the relationships between grooming shopping parades, the presence of corporate brands, and the Olympic trademark.

What I find particularly interesting is how corporate branding is tempered through this revitalisation.  It seems advertising and branding contribute to the so-called “tattiness” of the street.  To spruce things up, the Council evidently clamped down on corporate displays.
 










The irony here is that with the LOCOG’s tight restrictions on using the Olympic trademark, the only way to show support for the Games is to display the branded material of an official corporate sponsor.  Displays of rings, signage, or even mentions of “London 2012”, are forbidden.  Cadbury and Coca-Cola offer shopkeepers more than enough material to show their Olympic spirit... and sell their products.  Many ad hoc shops in my neighbourhood are using such material, and endorsing official products, to “get behind the games” and stimulate essential sales. 

And, of course, the Union Jack always adds a celebratory feel... its own kind of brand.

Rhyme and Reason

I’ve been doing some casual work at a kiosk to understand the rhythms of practice, see the flow of things, and better appreciate the logics of display.  The experience has shown just how deliberate all decisions are in the organisation of goods.  And while I try to be helpful, at times my efforts are overenthusiastic or undo careful configurations, and require some remedy guided by my patient shopkeeping friend.

The “ramble and face-up” refers to the practice of reordering goods to fill gaps in displays and ensure they are facing upwards and forwards.  There’s something particularly satisfying about creating a flush plane of shiny packages, but it seems I tend to ramble with a bit too much zeal.  As important as it is, too much “rambling and facing up” makes the products seem unpopular, I'm told.  There’s a psychology of keeping shop: gaps in display make sweets look like they’re flying off the shelves.  I have had to undo some of my fanatical reorganisation.  

I also spent some time untangling umbrella straps, only to be told they were intentionally twisted so they cannot be nicked with ease.

Although we're in the dead of summer, Halls cough drops are positioned in the most prominent place, beside the cash register.  Why?  Because they are nearing their expiry date. 

On a shelf of extra stock, pop cans are intentionally stored upside down to avoid collecting dust and grime on the openings -- an on-going issue in the kiosk, being so close to the road. 

As spontaneous as kiosks may look, their curation is calculated.  There's much for me to learn.

News and Weather

This summer has seen some of the wettest conditions on record.  Recent reports from high street chains describe disappointing sales.  Most ad hoc shopkeepers also bemoan the rotten conditions.  Wet days change our regular routines: we dart to the Tube station after work instead of sipping a cold drink in the park; we forego the ice cream sandwich on the street in favour of a hot drink in a cafe; we spend less, hibernate more.  This all hurts convenience retailers, souvenir shops, kiosks, and newsagents. 

There’s no way to the ward off the rains, but material adaptations mitigate its effects. 

For kiosks, the canopy is particularly essential.  Shopkeepers discuss how patrons take refuge beneath it during the rain and how they’re more likely to stop for a purchase on wet days if it means a short time under cover.  Without a canopy, many have to close when the rains come so products don’t get soaked. 

I’ve spoken to a number of shopkeepers with broken canopies, waiting for corporate producers to deliver promised branded covers.  Many have been waiting a long time and others have thrown up their hands and shelled out themselves, knowing these delays cost their business.

Albeit a bane to most, a few retailers in my neighbourhood have sheepishly delighted in this soggy season – namely those selling umbrellas.  Some of these vendors – with licences to sell “weather goods”: sunglasses, umbrellas, scarves, gloves, pashminas, etc. – report record sales.  Although it’s rained almost every day in the last few months, it seems people are still often caught out sans brolly.