If Trees Could Talk

"What we see and feel is life happening all around us. It is up to us to decide how we respond."

Everybody who starts a business thinks that their vision is so unique that it will just unfold, unchallenged, and it will be exactly as planned.

Such is the optimism of the entrepreneur. We actually believe that we see something that has never been seen before, and while one could argue that there is no true innovation—that all things are copied in some way, shape, or form—it is the individual's approach that makes the business truly unique.

That's why when you walk into an independent business, you're not just walking into a store. You are walking into something very personal that someone created just for you.

When we say business is not personal, we are negating the personal investment of the entrepreneur's lifetime and energy invested in that very moment when you arrive.

Ten years ago, I had a big idea to reframe retail and challenge the conventions of what we think retail is and how it operates. My experience in retail was very limited. I had worked in a boutique in the 1980s, and as publisher of Sky Magazine, I worked with independent retailers to help them tell their story so that others would seek them out.

My vision was admittedly limited by what I could see at the time. When I looked to the horizon, I saw a thriving downtown, a 30-plus-year legacy, an opportunity to share a business with my daughter, a desire to curate beautiful things made by designers presented in a beautiful, soulful environment, and to make the world a better place for each person that I serve for the brief time that we have together.

Things were progressing as my state of ignorance would blissfully allow. I launched my online store in 2017 and focused on building customer relationships. I learned about things like return on investment and product turnover.

In January 2020, I implemented shopping by appointment to offer my customers the opportunity to shop on their terms and to provide a completely personalized experience.

I could not have anticipated COVID, nor could I have anticipated a time when people would collectively stop walking—which is perilous for a shoe store. We "pivoted," as was the word of the day. We continued to offer online shopping services to our customers, which we have been doing since 2017, along with pickup, delivery, and personalized in-store shopping. Revenue plummeted 80%, supported only by online sales.

All businesses had to decide: do we navigate the storm, or retreat and let it pass?

I chose to navigate the storm by implementing a survival risk management plan—reducing overhead costs and moving to a smaller but beautiful former yoga studio, optimizing the inventory I could afford without sliding into a state of complacency. I shifted to an appointment model, which I still believe is the best approach.

When the COVID storm lifted, nobody knew who was still in business, and many assumed I had closed too because I was not where they last left me. It's kind of like when you lose a set of keys.

I get it. During those years, we all changed. Our lives changed. Our habits changed. Our preferences changed. The last thing you had the capacity to think about was me. And we were entering a new, unknown world. It would take a bigger crystal ball than I could afford to see that and to guess accordingly.

The Race to the Bottom

Recovery from COVID has not occurred as hoped. Also, there is no playbook on how COVID continues to affect us as people. It's an expensive guessing game.

Fashion retail is not a nimble business environment. Designers conceive of their seasonal offerings. We must order at least one season in advance to allow for the collection to be made. It is a financial risk for both designers and retailers because the decision to purchase rests with the consumer. We pay for the order, which ties up funds in product that may or may not sell. If the product doesn't sell, then we pay a lease payment to house the inventory in a place we call "a store" and hope someday someone comes in looking for a distinct style in a distinct size. When that happens, the heavens open and a choir of angels sing—Alleluia!

Because we need to recover the cash, more likely the products go on sale, which means we try to recover the cost of the product but lose all margin—that is, profitability. While this is great for the consumer (who doesn't love a good sale?), it wreaks havoc on the business. It is a race to the bottom as we all compete for the consumer's attention to purchase our products at cost or less.

Like my dad says, if we don't think we need something, it doesn't matter how much it costs.

Timber

I am sensitive to the noise pollution that is social media. It's very hard to know our own thoughts when a million voices at this very minute are telling you what you think, what you like, and how to do whatever it is you are doing.

For a small business, it's very hard to be seen and to be viable. It's that question: if a tree falls in the forest, does anybody hear? The answer is no, unless that tree was important to you. In a way, we have become disconnected from our forest, from our home, from ourselves.

Cheap production, the drive for economies of scale, and the need to scale for survival in the global marketplace often overshadow the unique experience of small independent businesses. Public policy does not support or encourage independent business. The problem is rooted in our system.

This deeply concerns me about our streets, communities, and the future, particularly as the last tree falls.

Maybe it's just wishful thinking, but when I look to the horizon, I see a world that wants less "stuff," not more. That appreciates handmade craftsmanship and artistry in every part of our lives.

I see a world that needs to slow down and breathe. That needs to connect with themselves and their community rather than their phone.

Yours truly,

The Last Tree