January 15th, 2009, 4 Comments »
When we were in New York, we set one afternoon aside for shopping. We meandered through Nolita and Soho, checking out the boutiques. I was dismayed to discover that there was nary a men’s shop in sight. I later checked with my fashion designer aunt, and she told me most of the men’s boutiques were in Chelsea (home, of course, to a large population of gay men).
So I came back from New York with nothing but new socks. I still needed clothes, so I asked local fashion blogger Victoria for some recommendations. She wrote a great post describing nine stores, most of which I’ve never visited. It’ll be very handy the next time I need some cool clothes.
I’d add a couple of stores to Victoria’s list: You and Whose Army (I couldn’t find a site for it–is it still around?) and Moule (not only a men’s store, but they had some nice clothes at very healthy discounts when I visited last weekend).
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February 4th, 2008, 2 Comments »
In Moroccan medinas, there’s a store every ten feet. I’m not exaggerating. They’re packed in like stalls at Playland or like the average North American mall, if each store had one-fifth of the frontage.
Most of these shops aren’t ’shops’ in the way we think of them in North America. They’re stalls, with most or all of the inventory behind the counter.
Malta taught me a valuable lesson in shopping outside of North America and mainland Europe: what you need probably isn’t in plain view.
That shift took me a while to make. You just need to hazard a guess at the right shop (few have signs) and ask the proprietor. This week I guessed correctly while seeking un marteau et des clous (”a hammer and some nails”–be careful to use ‘clous’ and not ‘ongles’, for the latter refers to fingernails).
Last week I visited an electronics store to ask about une rallonge (a power bar). They directed me across the street to what I can only describe as “the wire and cable shop”. He hooked me up.
The Shop Comes to You
In our small village on Gozo, the shop came to you. Each morning you’d hear a horn tooting regularly as the vegetable man drove into town. He’d park his truck in the town square, and sell vegetables to the local women (and us). There was likewise a fish man who had a different horn, and also yelled a lot in Maltese. On Tuesdays, the gas man would come through to replace propane tanks. In bigger towns, you’d also see other trucks–hardware, dried goods and so forth.
Like, I don’t know, the language of whales, we’d come to recognize the distinct honks of each mobile seller.
There’s a similar kind of culture of announcement here in Morocco. The gas man says something in Arabic (probably “gas”) as he pushes his laden handcart through the narrow alleys of the medina. Likewise the garbage men call out as they come by to collect the refuse twice daily.
No Queues
Julie just spent ten days back in Vancouver, and we were discussing the radically different retail models. She pointed out that whenever you bought anything in downtown Vancouver–clothing, coffee, groceries–you stand in line. She’s right–I’ll bet there was a queue for 80% of my purchases when we lived in Yaletown.
The opposite is true here. I almost never stand in line when shopping. In fact, ’shopping’ is a bit of a misnomer. You’re pretty much always shopping–as in browsing–when you walk down any street. The wares–particularly for the tourists–are bursting forth from every shop. I should say that “I never stand in line when I’m buying.”
Why are there no queues? Nearly every transaction is cash, and, despite the medina’s dense population, there seem to be more shops per buyer. There’s also far less customization–nobody orders “a half double decaffeinated half-caf, with a twist of lemon”.
If I were busier, I’d probably crave the order and sterility of a Canadian mall or grocery store. We do have a ton of work right now, but few other commitments. Leisurely walks to the fruit and vegetable souk are a nice break from the day job.
I’m not sure what the big finish to the blog post is. This year abroad has really reinforced my ascetic tendencies. I’ll never look at shopping, buying and consuming the same way.
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January 14th, 2008, 3 Comments »
I just got back from Essaouira’s souk, where the locals shop. I bought:
- 6 eggs.
- A whole chicken breast (meaning, uh, all the white meat on the bird). The butcher pulled it from his refrigeration unit–a box of water.
- A mango, 6 plums and 4 apples.
- Some carrots, an onion and a green pepper.
- Some couscous.
- A couple baguettes.
All for 75 dirhams, or just under CAN $10. A little cheaper than Urban Fare, methinks.
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October 14th, 2007, No Comments »
I got into Toronto last night and had an extremely satisfying evening. I ordered fish and chips from room service, and watched Hockey Night in Canada to stave off the jet lag. Happily, the Leaves [sic] lost and the Canucks won (Trevor Linden, I love ya buddy, but maybe it’s time to hang them up?).
Today I did some work, wandered around downtown doing some random minor shopping in the Enormous! Shiny! Malls!, and then went and saw the aforementioned Once.
And I’m a little chilly! Excepting recent dips in our increasing icy pool, I honestly haven’t been cold since late May. Not even a little chilly. It’s 13°C in the Centre of the Universe, and so I’m reveling in the very slight discomfort of being cold for a change.
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October 4th, 2007, 8 Comments »
My Irish friend Sarah recently wrote a post about a trip to the USA, and the stark difference between customer service in Ireland and stateside:
In Ireland, no matter what shop you go into, the main purpose of the assistants is to make clear that you needn’t think you are any better than them just because they are on the other side of the counter. Refusal to make eye contact, flinging change on the counter (or managing to put it in your hand without looking at you which takes considerable effort) grumpily announcing that all sizes are on display and consciously avoiding one’s attempt to attract attention.
The Irish folks in the comment thread unilaterally agree. All of my Irish friends would regularly complain about the service in Ireland. They sometimes found the service in North America a little ingenuine, but they preferred too much help to not enough.
There’s tangible evidence of this attitude implicit in the way Irish clerks greet you in many shops. They say “are you okay, there?” I never really knew what the correct answer to that question was. If I needed assistance, I think I was supposed to say “no”, as in “I’m not okay, I need your help finding hot pants”, or whatever.
The subtext of “are you okay, there?” is, of course, “do I actually have to deign to do my job and help you?”
I asked several Irish people why there’s such a lousy attitude in the service industry. Nobody gave me a satisfactory answer.
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May 17th, 2007, 7 Comments »
Last week we were shopping in the market square in Rabat, and happened upon a fish seller (not, as far as I could tell, that kind of fishmonger). We weren’t in the market for fish that day, but we asked when he was there. “Tuesday to Friday”, he replied.
I returned last Tuesday, and he was nowhere to be seen. I tried again today, and there was no sign of him again. What gives?
I asked one of the vegetable sellers nearby. She told me that “he doesn’t come if it’s windy”.
“Ah,” I said, knowingly, “thanks.” I’m still not sure why the wind determines his operating hours, but I must assume that the fishing is lousy when the wind is blowing.
There are thousands of peices of cultural data like this that you get to wrestle with and learn when you live in a new place. I find it to be one of the great joys of living abroad. Just think how triumphant I’ll feel when I actually get my hands on some fish.
Mind you, then I’ll have to fillet it. I’ve been collecting a few bookmarks on that subject.
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May 15th, 2007, 2 Comments »
The folks over at Vancouver’s Elastic Path (who employ Canuck uber-fan Dave) have compiled a big page of 111 shopping cart icons from ecommerce sites:
“Buy Now” may be a stronger call to action than “Add to Cart”, but may subtly suggest the user is finished shopping or is making a commitment to purchase without time to review the order. The beauty of “Add to Cart” is that it is non-committal and assumes the user is still looking around.
As I observed on the associated Digg page, it’s interesting that so many of the buttons refer to shopping carts, and so few refer to baskets. After all, I’d imagine most online transactions are for one to three items that would fit in a basket. Plus, of course, people who shop with baskets are cool urbanites, while shopping carts suggest suburban normality. I know why they went with ’shopping cart’–it’s a more common metaphor–but it’s still noteworthy.
Two other notes: I pity the poor bastard who laid that page out. And for the uninitiated, this post’s title refers to a venerable meme.
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