The Hindu Business Line : The store tells a story

On Commercial Street in Bangalore, 1.30 p.m. is rush hour for shoppers. Pedestrians have abandoned the narrow platforms and jumped headlong into the slow-moving traffic to weave their way through the logjam of vehicles. For the many stores selling clothes, cosmetics and the like, it is business as usual.

Ketan Mehta, Director, Victory Shoes, is busy overseeing arrangements for the opening of a new store. As the store manager instructs the boys on the shop floor, the merchandise man puts final touches to the displays. Brightly coloured posters are placed on the merchandise. Drawn by the bustle inside, a few curious onlookers saunter in. Immediately, they are offered prasadam. The atmosphere is not unlike that at a housewarming ceremony.

Welcome to the new face of retail — one that is replete with the familiar elements of celebration, warmth and family that are sure to touch a chord with the Indian consumer. In mood and in spirit, the scene evokes the feel of homecoming.

The store could well be staging the theatre of our lives - of our homes, melas, travelling circuses and festivities. Here, the cultivated indifference of the advertising message is forgotten; the customer, no longer the outsider, is the centrepiece of the show.

Okay, you've seen the ads, so what

All advertising seeks to persuade you and me into buying that particular brand of fairness cream that promises that elusive shade of fairness and holds the dream of lasting youth. While such advertising may create an aura around the product and tantalise one with its message,how much does it translate into goods sold? How much does it make the cash registers ring?

The answers can be had at the brick-and-mortar store where traditional advertising comes face-to-face with the man on the street, and is humbled by the meeting. This then, is the last mile of all businesses, from shoes to samosas, and from clothes to coffee.

The legend of the corner store

Time was when you did your shopping once a month, usually in the week following payday. Your wife made a list of things to be bought from the corner store. You trudged to the store and awaited your turn for the shopkeeper's affections. If you were lucky, you would be able to buy all you had set out for. In any case, there weren't many brands calling for attention. One brand seemed as good as the other. The monthly ritual was hardly considered entertaining.

Cut to the present, where `shopping' fills in for a boring evening at home or a free weekend. What was once drudgery has now been transformed into an outing for the family that promises therapeutic relief from a busy day at work.

On the floors of the mall, around the bend in the aisle, awaits that bargain buy, that unexpected product that meets our instinct for wish fulfilment. In this sense, the element of serendipity is an essential element of the shopping experience. Rather, the Indian shopping experience.

If in the past, satisfaction lay in having every item in the list ticked off and bought, for the present-day shopper it goes beyond meeting the requirement. With attractive packaging, a daily necessity has now become an object of desire.

And it has to be a brave shopper that resists the advances of brands on the shelves! One walks out of the store with a sense of elation for having found the perfect solution to that long unmet need, that perfect gift for the moment. The difference is in the experience.

A message for design

But let's step back to where it all began - the bazaar (or market, or mandi as it's variously known). So what if it is loud and chaotic, so what if it meanders into endless lanes and bylanes; at its heart lies the authentic retail experience. And therein lies a message for design. Clean lines, minimalist looks, spartan furniture - those who would equate these Western `boutique' concepts with good design are in for a reality check.

The best intentions - clean, luxurious spaces, abstracted metaphor, graphics as signage, connotations with colour - fail to find the mark with the average Indian consumer. Spell it out loud and clear. That is the only guarantee that nothing is lost in translation. Tighter spaces, an oddly diverse range of merchandise (boutique-to-budget under one roof), over-the-top graphics - in many ways they mirror the fascinating plurality of life in our towns.

The entire experience from entry through the aisles and back to the cash counter is designed to overwhelm. Quite in the manner of sights, sounds and smells that assail one on entering a Crawford Market or a Chor Bazaar.

It is time now, in the age of consumerism, to give the Indian market its due. In its seeming madness lies a method that a savvy retailer would do well to realise.

Quite like the Bharat brand of English that has found its way into our everyday language, design too needs to move from its indulgent, faraway place into our small towns and dusty thoroughfares, to find its rightful place in the scheme of things. Greater things achieved for the greater common good - which you'd agree is a noble enough calling.

(The writer is a designer at Idiom Design & Consultancy.)

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