This will be a shorter post, as I'm a busy girl with people to see and things to do.
Okay, we all know that's not true! Ha ha! Ha...But I am hereby starting a conscious effort to write some shorter posts, so that we don't go for weeks with none.
Today I'd like to talk about Target. Yes, they are the gold standard for mass retail; yes, they go where no discounter has gone before; and yes, they are captivating the crowds with their cheap chic offering and uncluttered merchandising and helpful in-store messaging and, you get the point. Target does a lot of things right.
But I want to mention one more thing that they have knocked out of the park. It's a design change that could have only come from the shopper's own voice. It's a very easy tactic that provides surprise and delight, improves the shopping experience and, I'm guessing, helps the bottom line at the end of the day.
So, most clothing stores have dressing rooms. These stores give up valuable retail space because people want to try things on. But in my recent interviews with female shoppers, I'm starting to notice a pattern: women don't like dressing rooms. Either they are too busy to try it on now, or they feel uncomfortable in such a small, messy, poorly-lit, barely-private space. So they buy, they take home, they try on, and THEN they make their final purchase decision.
As you can imagine, stores hate this. Returns? Annoying! We could have been selling that shirt to someone else while it was sitting in your bedroom! Plus, why did we spend 300 square feet on dressing rooms if you're not going to use them?
Well, Target sells clothes. Target has dressing rooms. And Target wants its dressing rooms to get used. So I'm guessing it took a good hard look at the trying-it-on experience, and resolved to provide something that you couldn't get at home.
I don't know about you, but my home has it pretty good. A full-length mirror in my bedroom, a brightly-lit mirror in my bathroom, and my boyfriend to give me his honest opinion. But my home does not have one thing. Friends, my home lacks a butt mirror.
Target dressing rooms, on the other hand, have this mirror. It's surprisingly, refreshingly awesome. No more planting your hips squarely forward while you twist your neck around, catching a glimpse for three painful seconds. No more listening to a salesperson's pandering flattery. No more worrying about the question that has plagued women since the dawn of pants: How does my butt look in these?
I just bought pants at Target, and let me tell you, the butt mirror sealed the deal. It's at just the right angle to allow for a full viewing, like I was standing behind myself and checking myself out. And although I was undecided on the front of the pants, the back of the pants looked, in my opinion, well, okay. I thought it looked good.
Target, I'd rather try on clothes in your store than bring them home. Your dressing rooms are certainly no palace. But they have what no average residence contains. That infinitely wise, truth-bearing, all-knowing and all-illuminating butt mirror.