What’s in a Quotation Mark?

Preserve describes itself as offering “the finest artisan-made products and handiwork from our talented group of artisans and craftspeople.” (Gee, the “artisan-made” products were made by “artisans”—who’d have thunk it?)  

The finest doesn’t come cheap. We’re talking $140 bras, $97 yoga mats, $56 flashlights. At those price points, you expect the products to be made with a persnickety attention to detail. You also expect the persnicketiness to apply to the copy and art from the brand itself. You do not expect—or at least I didn’t—to find the main graphic of a Preserve email to include a sloppy, inconsistent type treatment:

Never mind (for now, anyway) that some of the black text is nearly impossible to read against the darker parts of the photo. Instead look at those quote marks.

The double quotes are so-called curly quotes—true quotation marks. But the single quote marks around “Nevermore” are straight quote marks; the second is technically a foot mark, and I don’t know the true name of the first mark. 

The two styles of quotation marks clash, rendering the entire copy block ugly. Even more disturbing, the inconsistency speaks of a lack of attention to detail. Apparently nobody noticed the difference—or worse, someone did and didn’t think it worth fixing. And that’s not a mindset I want from a purveyor of pricy luxury goods. If Preserve is lax about the typography in its emails, which are its primary marketing tool, how can I trust that its standards regarding its merchandise, delivery, and payment security are any better?

Retail is detail, as the saying goes. Which means you really do have to sweat the small stuff. In practical terms, that means having a fresh eye, be it a copyeditor/proofreader or someone from a department other than art/creative, read over everything before it’s released into the wild.

And while I have Preserve in my sights, why doesn’t the website let me click directly onto a product page? The category pages (“Ladies,” “Gents,” “Home”) present a grid of product images. Hover over an image, and the product name and price appear. Click the image, and a pop-up presents you with several more images, as well as an “add to cart” button and a link to “see more details.” 

At this point, there’s not one word of copy telling us what the product is made of, how large it is, its features or benefits. All we know about the $56 flashlight, for instance, is that it’s “leather clad.” (And because the phrase comes before a noun, “leather-clad” should have been hyphenated in the product name, but I know a losing battle when I’m fighting one.) Apparently I’m not Preserve’s target audience, because I would never hit “add to cart” without knowing how large the flashlight is and what batteries it requires—facts I don’t consider “details” so much as information vital to my purchasing decision.

So what’s the point of making me click through once more before providing me with that info? Perhaps when it comes to online shopping, as in almost everything else, the rich are different from you and me.

I doubt they’re that different, though…

No Christmas Cheer Just Yet?

When to start pushing out the Christmas messaging has become a fraught issue for American marketers. Gone are the days when you’d shut your store the Wednesday before Thanksgiving, spend the evening frantically festooning the shelves with tinsel, and open the doors Black Friday morning with a big decorated Christmas tree in the front windo, one similar to the tree that featured prominently in the advertising insert you’d placed in the Thanksgiving edition of the newspaper.

Now, of course, if you wait until Black Friday to begin your Christmas season selling, you’re already behind. Yet when Nordstrom announced that, in keeping with its own tradition, it would not decorate its stores for Christmas until Black Friday, it received a sleigh-full of media coverage and plenty of kudos from consumers.

Granted I don’t visit too many bricks-and-mortar stores. But having strolled in and out among a number of online stores, I don’t think marketers are going overboard on the holiday messaging yet.

Here’s the Walmart home page on Nov. 13:

Yes, there are some cute red-and-green illustrations, as well as a link to its Black Friday newspaper insert. But it’s a pretty subtle approach. And when you consider that Walmart is one of the few retailers offering Christmas layaway, it makes perfect sense for the retailer to begin promoting holiday shopping early, as anyone who will be using a layaway plan has to get a jump-start now.

A much smaller, online-only merchant, Shana Logic, had only a small banner declaring “Browse Our Holiday Gift Guide” on its home page:

Instead the main image was of a cartoon kitten with angel wings beside the headline “Every time you support independent artists & designers a kitten gets its wings*” and below that, referring to the asterisk: “*a pretend kitty gets pretend pegagus [sic] wings… but still—it’s cute, & you’re supporting artists, so win win right? :-)” If you don’t find that adorable, well, you’re clearly not Shana Logic’s target audience. (I loathe It’s a Wonderful Life with the intensity of a thousand suns, and even I was charmed.)

Children’s clothing brands Carter’s and OshKosh B’gosh did have home pages decked out for Christmas—red-and-green borders, ornament-shape icons promoting free shipping and buy-one-get-one-free—but because the overall effect was quiet and tasteful, it wasn’t aggressive in the least. 

Opting for understated seems to be key when initiating Christmas shopping messaging before Thanksgiving week. Even the grumpiest Grinch can’t get too annoyed if you err on the side of subtle: Introduce the holiday colors, maybe throw in a seasonal icon or two, but steer clear of anything big, bold, overtly punning, or flashy. 

What's more, plenty of other retailers—Bon-Ton, Crate & Barrel, Williams-Sonoma, Restoration Hardware, White House/Black Market, J. Crew, to name some of the majors—had no Christmas messaging on their home pages. As of 10 days before Thanksgiving, it seemed that etailers promoting Christmas are the exception rather than the rule.

In fact, try as I did, I was unable to find a site with an egregious holiday hard sell. The closest I came was The Source for Everything Jewish, whose home page declared “Welcome to your Chanukkah Superstore”—and the most irksome thing about that was its spelling of Hanukkah/Chanukah. (Using the double k with the Ch isn’t a variant; it’s just wrong.)

Although I celebrate Hanukkah (or Chanukah, but never Chanukkah), I adore the Christmas season. So I was somewhat disappointed by my findings. Where’s the virtual tinsel, the flying reindeer, the gingerbread houses, the Santa with the belly shaking like a bowlful of jelly? I know, give it time.

In the meanwhile, I’m off to YouTube to play some Christmas videos. “Christmas Is the Time to Say I Love You,” anyone? 

The top photo is of the sad little artificial tabletop Christmas tree that was, aside from the Christmas cards we'd hang on the walls, the lone holiday decoration of the office where I worked in England. My daughter made the streamers that are strewn across its branches. I wonder if they still drag out the tree in December.

Yays and Nays of the Week

Having spent much of the past week in one of my favorite cities, Reykjavik, I didn’t consume as much marketing media as usual. Oh sure, I was exposed to just as much of it. But Icelandic isn’t one of the languages in which I’m conversant (those would be American English and British English), so most of the messaging was lost on me.

That said, I did see and hear enough to compile what I’m hoping will be a regular feature of this blog: the marketing zeniths and nadirs of the week.

·         * Outerwear brand 66° North is a ubiquitous presence in Iceland, where it's headquartered. And it’s also ubiquitous on Icelandair planes: 66° North apparently sponsored the flaps of cloth than hang over the seat headrests, so its name and logo are in front of you throughout the entire flight. Because it’s a low-key logo, though, and absent any obnoxious hard sell, the advertisement didn’t bother me. And the headrest covers are a great way of establishing a quiet, almost subconscious brand awareness—a brand awareness that I’m sure pays off when first-time visitors arrive at Keflavik Airport only to realize they should have packed an extra sweater or a winter jacket after all, but lo and behold! there’s a 66° North shop right there.

·        * “Oops! George Kovacs lighting, giftable ceramic & tabletop, and designer & personalized holiday cards” read the subject line from Joss & Main, a flash-sales decor site (and, full disclosure, a competitor of a company I work for). That “Oops!” certainly grabbed my attention, much more than anything else within the subject line. But when I opened the email, there was absolutely no reference to any sort of goof. Could “Oops!” have been included simply to boost the open rate? Last year a rash of companies sent out “sorry we goofed” emails apologizing for slow site load times, deliverability snafus, and the like. No doubt some of these apologies were valid, making amends for genuine mistakes. But it’s just as likely that some were bogus, written solely because subject lines referring to mistakes—and often offering discounts or other goodies as an apology—often lead to a lift in response.

·        
         * Another subject line, from UK furniture retailer Cargo: “7 Weeks to go… Are you ready?” Obviously this was meant to create a sense of urgency regarding Christmas shopping. But I think “seven weeks” would encourage procrastination instead. “What, I still have seven more weeks till Christmas? That’s plenty of time. Let's head to the pub.”

·         * And another home furnishings retailer, Pier 1 Imports, has unveiled its holiday marketing with the tagline “Cheer 1 Imports. This is where the holidays begin.” It’s simple, it’s sweet—I love it. I also love the cheery Santa dancing atop its home page.

The top photo is of Reykjavik taken from the bell tower of Hallgrímskirkja church. This photo captures everything I love about the city.

"We're Number One!"

As I’ve noted before, I’m a sucker for cute. So when I received an email from Liberty London informing me of a new, exclusive collection of Hello Kitty goods, including fabulous Liberty fabrics incorporating the epitome of cuteness herself, I had to check them out.

Liberty is a British department store (and if you’ve never visited it, you should definitely make a point of doing so on your next trip to London, especially if you love textiles). A quick Google search, however, showed that Liberty has a U.S.-specific URL, us.liberty.co.uk, as well as its primary liberty.co.uk. address, so I figured that it must ship to the States.

And it does… for a flat fee of £25. Unless the order is especially bulky, in which case the price goes up.

As of this writing, £25 comes to $38.91. I like Hello Kitty, but not that much.

In any event, I was also somewhat annoyed that even though I clicked on the U.S.-specific URL, pricing appears only in pounds. There is no on-site option for converting the currency, and even the international shipping prices are given in sterling.

I decided to visit a few other U.K. websites to see if this is the exception or the rule. Harrods doesn’t have any country-specific URLs, and like Liberty it lists all pricing, including shipping costs, in pounds. Also like Liberty, it charges a standard £25. And Harrods even has its own Hello Kitty collection. 

Hello Kitty may be cute, but apparently she’s also quite the slut.

When I logged on to the John Lewis website, I was greeted with a geographically targeted home page: The top graphic was of the Stars and Stripes in the shape of the U.S., with “We now deliver to the U.S.A.” in large type. Below it were several links to a page detailing its international delivery policies and prices. Again, the fees are all in pounds, though at least it costs only £15 to deliver to the States.

It was more or less the same at the other British stores I visited, though Harvey Nicks and Selfridges don’t even ship overseas, and Debenhams and House of Fraser ship to the States for only £10. Both of the latter sites, incidentally, have a link near the top of their home page calling out their “low international delivery rates,” so they clearly seem to be trying to expand global reach.

Surprisingly, two U.S. department stores put these other sites to shame. I say “surprisingly” because U.S. merchants have long been considered less willing than their European counterparts to accommodate international consumers. But on the bottom of its home page, Macy’s has a flag icon and a link that reads “Change country.” Click the link, and you’re taken to a page with drop-down menus listing scores of countries and currencies. Select the currency of your choice, and as you navigate through the site, nearly all prices will appear in that currency. (The exceptions are the prices on nondynamic promotional banners that appear on some landing pages.) Bloomingdale’s offers the same functionality, with a link on the bottom of its home page that reads “International shipping.”

Both Macy's and Bloomies are well-known destinations for overseas visitors, so a failure to have included this option would have been a true missed opportunity. But Harrods is also a must-visit destination for tourists, so it seems that the venerable British retailer is in fact leaving money on the table. 

And while some retailers might not be able to justify the expense of adding a currency converter to their ecommerce site, surely they could at the very least give the international shipping fees in the intended recipient's local currency. This is particularly so if they're making an effort to woo international customers, as Liberty seems to be doing with its U.S.-specific URL and John Lewis with its geotargeted home page.

Who’d have thought that the xenophobic Yanks would have bested the more global-minded Brits at accommodating international consumers? If I were still living in England, this would be an opportunity for me to hoist my fingers in the air and declare, in my most American accent, “We’re number one!”

Just a Few Steps Above Mystery Meat

Contrary to what some might say, I don’t like kicking a company when it’s down. And goodness knows Harry & David is down. But after ordering a Father’s Day gift from the food mailer, I can see why its top and bottom lines have been on the decline.

Harry & David has always tried to set itself apart by, among other things, promoting its Create-Your-Own gifts. My father, like most 80-somethings, has his share of dietary restrictions, so this seemed the safest way to go.

The product page for the Create-Your-Own 4-Pack Snacks & Pretzels Sampler has a pop-up menu listing the snacks you can select. What it doesn’t have are descriptions of those snacks. What exactly is the Super Party Mix? How many grams of fat are in the Sesame Sticks? Clicking each option should have called up details about each, but didn’t.

I ended up opening another tab so that I could search for each option’s product page on HarryandDavid.com to determine which products would be best for Dad. Unfortunately, the on-site search couldn’t locate product pages for all of the items, such as the Honey Wheat Dipping Pretzels. Does Harry & David not sell them as a stand-alone item? Am I supposed to take it on faith that this option meets my father’s dietary requirements?

If Harry & David wants consumers to view the company as a standout in the ever-more-crowded field of food gifts, it needs to prove its credentials by serving shoppers an abundance, if not an overabundance, of information. In its heyday, when people had fewer options and were less knowledgeable about nutrition, less anxious about allergies, and less concerned about their diets, Harry & David could have gotten away with providing less in the way of facts. But those days are gone, along with Harry & David’s reign as the master of the food gifts category.

(And it’s not as if Harry & David is even resting on its laurels of serving sizzling creative in lieu of meat-and-potatoes information and usability, as anyone who has watched the evolution—or devolution—of its catalogs and website over the past few years can tell you. And in fact I did tell you, in this blog post last October.)

Omaha Steaks does a somewhat better job. Its Create-Your-Combo packages works on the old Chinese-menu model: Pick one item from group A, one from group B, and two from Group C. Within each group it includes a thumbnail photo of each option and a link to a pop-up product description. Granted, the descriptions don't include calorie counts, nutrition information, or lists of ingredients. But they do provide the serving sizes of the entrees and a general idea of what to expect. Here’s the description of the 4 oz. Italian Breaded Veal Patties: “You’re halfway to a terrific Veal Parmesan! Delicious ground veal in the seasonings of Old Italy coated with bread crumbs, Romano cheese, garlic and cornmeal ready to sauté and serve.” So if, say, cheese is a deal-breaker, you at least know enough not to order this option.

What’s more, I was able to find the product pages for Omaha Steaks' various options by using the on-site search, and those product pages include not only nutritional and ingredient information but also preparation instructions. Ideally the pop-up descriptions on the Create-Your-Combo pages would link to these pages as well, but at least Omaha Steaks shows that it’s aware of the importance of this information to shoppers.

Regardless, I ordered from Harry & David, primarily because I’d done so the previous year and my father hadn’t complained about it. A few days later, Harry & David emailed me: “We are concerned with the summertime temperatures that the yogurt pretzels that you ordered may not arrive in perfect condition. If that is the case, please call our customer service department and we would be happy to replace them with a non-yogurt variety…”

Well, that’s pretty sporting of the company, was my first thought. But my second thought was, Harry & David would have been better off not offering the yogurt pretzels as an option to begin with. Having to replace the item would cost the company money that it certainly can’t afford. And seeing as the order was a gift, a package containing soggy pretzels would leave a bad taste in both the recipient’s and the customer’s mouths; who wants to go to the hassle of calling customer service to make good on a present?

While the proactive measure on the part of customer service is worthy of kudos, the fact that it needed to be done at all is one more sign that Harry & David isn’t as knowledgeable about its product range as it should be. And with consumers becoming more and more knowledgeable, that doesn’t bode well for its turnaround efforts.

Check, Check, No

A look at two apparel merchants that avail themselves of the web’s advantages over print, and one that doesn’t.

* On its online product pages, Boden includes not just the wealth of alternate images, zoom functionality, cross-sell suggestions, reviews, and detailed measurements that used to be considered niceties but are fast becoming de rigueur. It also includes, when applicable, updates to the product descriptions that appear to be in response to customer service questions.

For instance, the copy for the Pool Party Tunic adds, in a font different from the rest of the description, “Please Note:
 Please be aware that the Yellow Loopy neck embellishment should have yellow beads as the internet shots [sic] not white beads as the catalogue depicts.” The Twist Jersey Top copy cautions, “Poppy option (RED) is much brighter and slightly more coral in reality.  Please note Cream option (CRM) is cream although appears white in photography.”

Most of the products do not have such addenda. And while ordinarily I’d been shaking my head at the typos and errant coding in these messages, they do support the ad hoc nature of the notes, as if an empowered customer service rep had taken it upon himself to add them to the site in response to multiple queries he had fielded.

Adding this sort of information is in fact a customer service enhancement, one that no doubt helps reduce calls to Boden’s contact center—saving it some money in the long term—and minimize returns.

* A growing number of ecommerce sites are adding videos of their products in use. Apparel etailer Asos, however, is the only one I’m aware of  that includes brief videos of its clothing worn by a model on the vast majority, if not all, of its product pages.

Like Boden, Asos has multiple photos of each item on its pages as well as zoom capability. But seeing a product on a model sashaying down a runway is the only way to determine exactly where a blouse billows and where it clings, how fluid or stiff the fabric is, if the trousers are likely to give you a cameltoe or odd bulges when you walk.

The videos have dissuaded me from a few purchases, which is to Asos’s benefit. If I had made those purchases, I would have been dissatisfied and returned the items, and as Asos offers both free shipping and free returns, it would have incurred a sizable loss on my order. Not to mention that I would probably never trust the company’s merchandising enough to follow up with subsequent purchases.

* Victoria’s Secret doesn’t offer any alternate images on its product pages, nor any zoom functionality, let alone video. You’ve got one photo, the same basic product description as probably appears in the print catalog, and that’s it.

Of course, lots of other apparel marketers follow the same lame, user-unfriendly practices as Victoria’s Secret. So why single out this company?

Because, as readers of the Photoshop Disasters blog well know, Victoria’s Secret is notorious for doctoring its images, and doing so poorly. Certainly the image on the landing page for its Clothing (as opposed to Bras, Panties, or Sleepwear) section does not instill confidence in the accuracy of its photos (unless that red lace top really does cause some sort of weird dislocation/swelling of the hip, in which case I wouldn’t want to buy it anyway).

If it’s obvious that Victoria’s Secret manipulates its photos to the point where seeing isn’t believing, and I’m presented with only one photo to gauge what a product looks like, I’m certainly not going to assume that the product does indeed look like its photo. Nor am I going to take a chance and order the product for the hell of it. If I wanted to take a gamble based solely on blind faith, I’d do something really crazy, like invite people over for a barbecue next weekend on the assumption that by then my husband will have mowed the lawn so that it no longer resembles an abandoned potter’s field.