The Anthropology Of Shopping
Paco Underhill, called "a Sherlock Holmes for retailers," spends much of his life spying on shoppers, then reporting back to retailers so they can redecorate to make more money. I read his last book, Why We Buy, on the recommendation of an anthropologist, actually, and found it fascinating. In it, he explains, among other things, what he calls "the butt-brush effect": Shoppers, especially women, hate to be bumped or brushed from behind. If aisles are so narrow that they get bumped or jostled, they'll stop looking at merchandise and move on.
His latest book is Call Of The Mall. And that's where Roy Rivenburg followed him:
He began in the foyer of JCPenney, an area he calls "the landing strip" or "decompression zone." As shoppers enter a mall from outdoors, their walking speed downshifts and their eyes need time to adjust to the lighting. "This transition stage is one of the most critical things we've learned in two decades of studying how shoppers move through retail environments," Underhill explains in "Call of the Mall." If merchandise is placed too close to the door, it doesn't get noticed, he says.Many department stores locate perfume counters near the entrance, a throwback to pre-automobile days when fragrance sections were "a bulwark against the stench of horse manure coming in from the street."
After zipping through Penney's, Underhill steps into the heart of Del Amo, a retail behemoth so sprawling it contains two Victoria's Secrets, two Carlton Cards and two Bath & Body Works.
As he navigates the mall, Underhill reels off statistics, trivia and play-by-play commentary on the sights around him.
Most of his banter zeroes in on "ways that merchants shoot themselves in the foot," such as a maternity store with aisles too narrow for baby strollers or a clothing shop with barebones fitting rooms. "Why don't we do a better job of romancing the dressing room?" he asks, going on to recommend adjustable lighting that simulates outdoor and indoor environments. "The dressing room is often the least glamorous part of a store, and yet it's where so much of the decision-making happens."
In Robinsons-May, he notes the contrast between the sleek cosmetics displays and the clutter behind the counter ó clunky beige cash registers, 1980s-era telephones and frayed notebooks. If the store is trying to peddle glamour, he says, it should modernize the entire operation.
At Styles, a women's clothier, Underhill spots a mistake so common he can't resist meddling. With no clerks around to stop him, he bolts for the display window and starts rearranging the mannequins.
A moment later, he returns outside to explain his handiwork: Most mall window displays are aimed straight ahead, which means the only way to see them as you stroll past is to crane your neck unnaturally or walk sideways. A better method, he says, is to face the display slightly sideways, so the shopper sees it while approaching the store.
Hmm. That sounds fine if the customer arrives from the right side, but what about people approaching from the opposite direction? Wouldn't they see only the backs of the mannequins? Yes, Underhill says, but they'll be vastly outnumbered. That's because research shows that most mall pedestrians follow a counterclockwise loop through a mall ó except in Britain, where people drive on the left side of the road and thus prefer a clockwise path as pedestrians.
Underhill, a self-described "tall, bald, stuttering research wonk" who spends a third of his time on the road ("There are more than 100 American malls to which I could give you accurate driving directions off the top of my head," he notes), has seen just about everything in retail. He can tell you, for example, that products displayed on tables sell better than those on shelves or racks.
But he's in for a surprise at Hermit Crab, a kiosk vendor near the middle of the mall. It's a tub of beach sand crawling with tiny crabs in hand-painted shells. It's an eye-catcher, but Underhill finds it slightly creepy: "This is a testament to the fact that we are fascinated by critters ... but how soon will it be before the ASPCA [cracks down]?"
At least they're hard to shoplift!
(via Arts & Letters Daily)