Late yesterday afternoon, as I was soaking in the bath tub and aimlessly scrolling through the day’s news, I settled on the doom n’ gloom pertaining the footfall on what is now considered the first day of the winter sales, Boxing Day. I know this will seem strident to any young person but there was a time when the winter sale wouldn’t start until early January. In those days, now akin to the middle ages for some, Harrods did not open at all on Sundays. But let’s get back to the present day.
BBC News reported that early numbers suggested a drop in footfall of 13% or thereabouts. I only glanced at this as I then started discussing the issue, if it even is an issue, with my boyfriend who was reminiscing about a time when a gift voucher meant a rush to spend it between Christmas and New Year, but with no expectation whatsoever that the prices would be reduced. Yet, in recent years and I am really thinking five plus, we are lambasted by sales for weeks on end before Christmas.
Take the Black Friday thing, yet another American import which has no correlation whatsoever to the British market; back in 2010 or so, when it first reared its head on these fair shores, it was just one day. Fast forward to last month, and my inbox was clogged with Black Friday deals ten days before the day itself, then extending discounts until Cyber Monday [also an American moniker], which is the first Monday in December. Do you know what that yields in me?
Buying fatigue.
It means that, actually, I don’t buy anything at all. What’s the point? There will be another sale next week. Compare and contrast what a sales experience [please excuse the use of experience on this one but I really cannot think of a more apt term], looked like back in 2002 when Harrods threw a show outside and people could pick up a TV for a fraction of a fraction of its price [well OK, not this person right here, I don’t have a TV, but some people do]. Whilst I never queued for the sales, predominantly because I find it gross and vulgar and unnecessary for a variety of reasons, I harbour many sweet memories of the Harrods sale with my mum and dad and then young husband, when we were in our twenties, had our first jobs, and the sale gave us an opportunity to get something truly fabulous.
In my case, I will never forget the moment I spotted a hot pink wool and mohair coat by Christian Lacroix, with a fine red and pale pink piping down the front. It was reduced to next to nothing [and was also available in a delectable shade of brown with turquoise piping and never have I regretted not buying something more than that coat] and mum and dad got it for me. It is still hanging in my wardrobe to this day, not just a fashionable relic as it were, replete with yellowed floral lining, but a beacon of all the joy and veritable electricity I was experiencing in my mid-twenties and I was, technically, new to adult life.
The complexity of the retail picture is one I needn’t go into, even as I am perfectly qualified to talk about it at length having spent several years in IT on consumer goods projects, but something that is rarely, if ever, mentioned is the impact of financial crisis upon financial crisis has on people. You see, deep down I don’t really think that the UK has truly recovered from the crash of 2008-10. If I think of my own life, I actually have very real reasons to believe that my general standard of life has improved only on the surface [digs in Chelsea] but not in real terms [rented digs].
When I cannot spend ten minutes on LinkedIn without coming across multiple posts of people veritably desperate for a job, any job, is it really any wonder that footfall on the first day of sales has fallen? Heck, is it any wonder that Christmas was cancelled for some people? A couple of weeks ago I posted on here about an acquaintance of mine being destitute and jobless. I was seeking to increase his chances at finding the next big thing by writing about his case [with his permission], both on here and on LinkedIn itself. And to be clear, Dan’s case isn’t special and isolated, nor is it unique or unheard of.
Habits may have changed drastically over the past two decades, with more and more people shopping online, but when I took a hike down the King’s Road this morning, I was not convinced that it’s all down to changing habits as such. I’ve never seen Chelsea quite so quiet, with nobody in Peter Jones [no surprise there] and barely a couple of souls around The White Company [where I found myself exchanging something gifted to me in optimistic size, as I call it, so that I could actually wear it]. The customary thrashing of Zara was also nonexistent.
Oh and allow me to spare a last thought on this one for all those companies that are relentlessly sending emails at this time of year… I received eight from Anya Hindmarch in the 24 hours between Christmas and Boxing Day. I write marketing letters too, one for my animated videos and one for my candles, but never in a gazillion million years would I consider such a wigging at holiday season. Ugh, spare me. On the plus side, I am always happy to write a daily letter on here but that’s different, because we are amongst friends here.