Diplomacy in Refusal March 9, 2009

As a fourth-generation member of the fashion world, I have an extremely snarky sense of humor.

I laugh hysterically whenever Ugly Betty villainess Wilhelmina mocks or condemns others’ sartorial gaffes (the gladiator sandal scene last week? Pure genius). I own a button that says “Fashion Police” (and occasionally harbor fantasies about issuing citations to people wearing Crocs, Uggs, real fur, and clothes that don’t even come close to fitting properly). When I’m feeling particularly puckish I could probably give the late Mr. Blackwell a run for his money.

However, as I don’t (yet) wield the power of, say, Anna Wintour, I tend to save the snark for after hours. When dealing with potential suppliers, I’m as professional as any store buyer ever gets…even when what they’re selling is absolutely revolting. (Exception: the little snot mentioned in a previous entry who threw a tantrum when I refused to order the sheep-fur boots he was selling, and very nearly had to be removed by the police. Anyone who tries to sell me dead animals does so at the risk of being ticketed for trespassing.)

Here’s where that gets tricky: niche fashion is NOT like mainstream fashion. In mainstream fashion, the right people can say “It’s hideous – put it on a corpse and bury it” to a designer’s face and still maintain their respected status. In niche fashion, selection is often limited, and when you’re aiming for eco-friendly, vegan, AND sweat-free, not only is the selection limited but it’s often unattractive, made from impractical materials, and designed by amateurs with good intentions but very limited know-how.

Here are excerpts from some of the e-mails M. and I, as co-buyers, have sent each other in regard to the worst offenders:

“Ugh, this crap looks like it was made out of Grandma’s old plastic tablecloths.”

“Are these people high?”

“Are you kidding? This stuff looks like a school kid’s art project.”

“Who the hell is going to wear this?!”

“I had a bag like that in the ’70s and it was a bad idea then, too.”

“If all bamboo/organic cotton/hemp apparel is this skimpy and sloppy-looking, the green-fashion movement is is SERIOUS trouble.”

Do you get the idea?

We’ve been open long enough now to know what sorts of things just don’t sell. Some of the stuff that prompted the comments listed might sell in a laid-back market like San Francisco, but would never, ever cut it in Southern California, land of hedonism and (metaphorical) plastic. Our flagship is behind the Orange Curtain, for seitan’s sake! If something looks like it was made by a child, only comes in ugly colors (or worse, ugly patterns), or looks like it was pilfered from the corpse of a dead hippie, no one in this market is going to buy it. Laugh at it, maybe, but I have to carry things that will actually sell.

Which begs the question of what to tell someone who is trying to sell me something that won’t sell in the store.

As a blunt, honest person, I WANT to tell them point-blank why their wares can’t cut it in this style-oriented, perfection-obsessed market. I’d love to sit them all down, show them pictures of our top-selling styles, and ask them to drop us a line when they’re making something in a similar vein. I would readily offer to help them develop products that I could sell all day long. I’d win, they’d win, my customers would win, and everyone would be happy, right?

If only it were that easy.

The fact of the matter is, designers (even the amateurs) are often hypersensitive creatures who do not take criticism well (and I’m allowed to say that because I’m one too). Some niche designers get as pissy, defensive, and illogical as that decrepit gargoyle Karl Lagerfeld whenever he’s defending his obscene use of fur. If more niche designers would at LEAST take a class in line development, the situation would not exist. But they don’t, and so it continues. (I can’t blame anyone for not wanting to go to fashion school or intern with a designer – it’s a LOT of work and can be very, VERY expensive – but when designers don’t know how to create a line that works for its target market – or worse, don’t even know who makes up their target market – it shows. Big time.)

I’d like to help them. Really, I would. But, how exactly does one do that with someone who gets mad and wails “Why not?!” when you politely decline to place an order with them?

I want to give an honest answer so they can get to work creating better products. But, realistically, I know that if I did, I’d just be written off as mean and snobby. I can be a little snobby (there ARE times when it’s appropriate – don’t let someone with no standards and no self-respect tell you otherwise), but I am NOT mean, and should not be described as such when I’m just trying to help.

I am really getting quite tired of relying on “not interested” for a response when constructive criticism would ultimately be more helpful, but what can you do when no one will accept it?