I had high hopes for “Guys Night Out at Lord & Taylor,” so high in fact that I braved a fierce wind and rainstorm to get there. Last year I was there in January, returning something my mother had bought me—as usual—when something unusual happened. I spent more than the returned item was worth. Now normally I'd just chalk this up to being a shopaholic (I can find a number of items to buy at any gas station) but in this case it was a real sense of there being a newer, hipper feeling to the 10th-floor men's department.
There were shoes by Bruno Magli and Calvin Klein, and goods by Hugo Boss, all in a traditional woody setting that felt old world and classy. And the prices were reasonable.
Arriving on Thursday night, off the new and much appreciated express elevator, it was obvious that others had bitten at the 20-percent off plus free drinks offer; the place was mobbed.
I needed (wanted? was compelled?) to buy things. In particular, I had in mind a pair of tailored grey flannel slacks.
But first I thought I'd do my job and take in the sights. They had DJ David Marc on hand, the music was good when you could hear it, but since there was a live ESPN radio broadcast, the effort and expense seemed a waste. Honestly, I've never understood the appeal of watching a radio broadcast, but having staged them for clients previously (Maxim, GQ) I can tell guys find them fascinating. Here it was no different. In the men’s suit department (where the highest priced items live), a big yellow corral with lights and microphones and people coming and going was a draw, particularly for the young'uns.
Getting my free drink was a bit of a struggle, as the catering team seemed slightly unsure and sloppy. Each bar had an attractive if precarious wine-glass pyramid that took up valuable space and set you up for disappointment when your drink arrived in a plastic cup.
I've got no quarrel with plastic—there are some times that just call for it. But what I don't get is mixing the two. Here, the drink of the night looked like a lime Ricky and was served in mini-highballs, while everyone else took their libations from a disposable chalice. All of a sudden the decorative glassware became annoying.
There were no nuts on the bar. Wouldn’t you think for a guy’s night out there should be nuts on the bar? Or pretzels? If they weren't serving any food at all, I guess I'd give them a get-out-of-munchies-free-card, but then a passed tray came at me, and I thought to myself, lets see what we got here, pigs in blankets maybe?
But no, there were tiny little things. Bits of tuna wrapped in cucumber wrapped with wee green bows. "A.W." is what I say in this case, which stands for "all wrong."
Fortunately, I was able to sideline Richard Gualtieri, who’s been the men's fashion director at the store for the last few years.
I asked him if things are getting hipper here, and he explained, "We're a traditional store, so we're not trying to go crazy, but yes, thank you, we've been updating the merchandise for a while."
Designer Joseph Abboud does their private label. There were Frye boots, which looked in again (at least to me, one pair later) and Andrew Marc, known best I guess for his leather goods, is selling nifty down vests. Yes, I took one of them, too.
I tried to buy the tailored pants, but that was just not flying. The pants were stacked sloppily (sorry, but sloppy was the word of the night), and Richard seemed embarrassed when he couldn’t find my size.
Steven DeLuca, the publisher of Details, was on hand as was a handsome video display showing the visuals from an eight-page advertising section in the current issue of the magazine, which features Tom Cruise on the cover. There were a few magazines on display, but not many. Just as well for me. Although I like and regularly read the magazine, I had the misfortune of hosting Tom Cruise in my Sigma Chi room at UPenn. Risky Business had just come out, but he was already a self-important prima donna, albeit a little one.
I was the first promotion director of Details magazine when Condé Nast purchased the downtown title in 1988, so I have a soft spot. But the team seemed to have fallen down a little. There were subscription cards on the floor everywhere. Where were the merchandising and promotion people handing out magazines on your way out? (You only get one in a gift bag if you spend $250, a gift bag the store advertised as worth $450, which worked to get me to spend the extra buck.) Clothes in hand, I looked around at a store unorganized and jam packed, and although the co-branding and the draw of the event seemed to be working, no one was prepared for the big crowds. I always think at a retail event, that is the most crucial error.
Later, when I saw the photos for the event, I saw the evening started out a crisp and clean affair. But by the time I got there, which was only 6 p.m., the place seemed overrun.
In my day, if a magazine was lending its name to a retail event, I insisted on at least a tiny branding area, as close to the front of house as possible. We rounded up covers old and new, covered some easels with fabric, and dragged a few framed shots from editorial along as well. The goal was to present your product as hero.
If there was any of that going on I missed it.
