About 5% of our customers make us want to drink vodka in the middle of the day. The other 95% aren't really customers. They're people we've shared styling memories with.
In what world do you enter an establishment—any establishment—and reply to the first hello with an angry "I'm just looking," accompanied by an aggressive, directing air traffic hand motion?
Even if you are having a shitty day, even if you are in a hurry, or even if you are just passing time and have zero plans to buy anything, would it kill you to say hello?
Of course you're looking. We know you're looking. That's why stores have windows. Nobody expects you to walk in and immediately start piling clothes on the counter. We aren't hiding a dressing room ambush in the back. Looking is welcome. I don't know which is worse: the aggressive stop sign or the customers who enter with a dog, sunglasses, and a headset on, completely unavailable for social interaction and allergic to eye contact. Can you imagine entering someone's home with that attitude? This is our home.
A small business, by definition, is more personal. There is someone who invested energy, passion, money into creating something. We don't have a headquarter in Paris or a budget for Subway ads. We invest in like-minded colleagues, and we deal with landlords and shoplifters. We build a culture around the business so when people like YOU come in, we are excited! So, pretty please, with a cherry on top, when you enter a small business, remember there's a human being on the other side of that hello.
OK, now that I've gotten my major complaint out of the way, let's move on to a few smaller ones:
Kids.
I have them.
I love them.
They think I'm a cool mom.
I'm so cool that I've jumped up and down on beds with them.
What I've never done is let them jump on a sofa in a boutique with their shoes on (or off, obviously irrelevant) while I shop.
I sometimes wonder about the thought process...
"My child has endless energy. I'm exhausted. I just need ten minutes to myself. What's this? LiLi The First? Perfect."
Can you imagine doing that at YSL around the corner?
Neither can I.
Parents.
I am one.
It's a lifetime job.
We all think we raise little geniuses, don't we? The next president. The next NBA champion.
But when a customer tells me that her 11-year-old daughter is her "stylist," and that she's "such a fashionista," and keeps asking for her opinion (gosh, the competition!), I want to snap them out of it and ask:
What does your 11-year-old stylist know about breastfeeding, menopause, hot flashes, packing light, or looking attractive after 40?
Look, if they're trying to impress a bunch of sixth graders, then yes, I'd stick with your stylist daughter.
Forget about how fashion makes you feel confident, focused, and purposeful. Totally overrated.
Spouses.
Not technically a customer.
Although sometimes the spouse IS the customer.
The other day, a woman tried on a jacket she absolutely loved. She called her boyfriend for approval.
He said no.
She was so disappointed she barely wanted to take it off.
I offered her another jacket, but she didn't like it nearly as much.
I suggested she call her boyfriend and ask whether he liked that one.
She thought I was funny.
She didn't understand.
I was not going to be the one to tell her.
On the other hand, a sweet older couple came in recently. They called each other "honey" and "baby." She wore avant-garde fashion. He dressed completely conventionally.
They'd been married for 57 years.
They simply let each other be exactly who they wanted to be. I thought that sounded like the perfect recipe for a happy marriage, but I asked for their secret anyway.
Without missing a beat, he said: "We both can't hear."
True story!!
