Posts tagged ‘outlet stores’

An unflinching look at America’s dangerous fascination with ‘cheap’

Even before I’d finished Ellen Ruppel Shell’s new book Cheap: The High Cost of Discount Culture, I decided I should review it on Pocketmint. I then spent two weeks artfully procrastinating on doing so.

Apparently I have a block on writing formal ‘book reviews’. I have no trouble discussing books, verbally and informally, but the moment I start trying to write about them I seize up over doing it properly.

So this is not a book review, it’s a brief casual monologue about a book I thought was worthwhile. Right? Okay then. (Er, maybe not so brief. Oops.)

•   •   •

The general premise of Cheap is neatly encapsulated in the title: the ‘discount culture’ that pervades America today has a number of costs, borne by both the naive consumer (in the form of shoddy goods and false bargains) and the world at large (in the form of environmental destruction and human rights violations).

Cheap is not a polemic; rather it is a measured, deeply researched examination of a cultural phenomenon — one I suspect most Americans today take for granted.

The first quarter or so of the book is devoted primarily to tracing the roots of the ‘discount store’ and related phenomena, all the way back to the first example of mass production two hundred years ago. (No, not cars — guns.)

If I have one criticism, it’s that I felt that the biographical details of discount-store pioneers occasionally dipped into tedium. Nevertheless, the broader historical perspective was illuminating. Have you ever imagined shopping in a store with no price tags? Yeah, neither have I. But before John Wanamaker came along, that’s just how things were done. Here’s another, more recent example of cultural shift:

President George W. Bush’s stirring call to spend after the fall of the Twin Towers in New York City on 9/11 seemed surreal to those Americans who recalled President Carter’s 1979 “sweater speech,” in which he donned a cardigan and asked Americans to turn down their thermostats to conserve energy for the sake of national prosperity and security.

(This sentence alone sent me scurrying off to learn more about Jimmy Carter, a president I barely remember. The man put solar panels on the White House! In 1979! And then Ronald Reagan came along and took them down again. /facepalm)

•   •   •

Having covered the history of America’s adoption of the discount mindset, Shell turns to the source of that mindset — the psychology of price.

Sadly, even when we know we’re being tricked, the tricks still work: people respond differently to a $9.99 price tag than to a $10 one. We’ll pay more for a sale sweater with a ‘regular’ price of $249 than one with a ‘regular’ price of $89, even if we are absolutely certain that the $249 is inflated.

And sometimes we’re oblivious to the stratagem in play. I always assumed outlet malls were rurally situated because of lower real estate costs. But no! It’s a ploy: once you’ve driven an hour or two you’re invested in the trip and therefore will buy more to justify the time and effort you’ve already spent.

In many cases, we’ve been conditioned to think something is a bargain when it really is nothing of the sort. You think Wal-Mart has ‘always low prices’, right? Chalk one up to the marketing team if so: Wal-Mart has higher than average prices on a third of its merchandise. And on those items for which prices are lower? A third of them offer savings of two cents or less.

Meanwhile, the rise of discount stores has lowered American wages; where department store staff salaries and benefits once totaled 18% of sales, today’s discounters spend a mere 6 or 7% of sales on their staff.

•   •   •

Later chapters move beyond the cost to the individual consumer and into the realm of the cost to people in foreign nations (who are intrinsic to the supply chain) and the cost to the health of the planet.

IKEA had begun to lose its luster for me even before I read this book, but the chapter in which Shell tours IKEA headquarters in Sweden was enough to finish the job. Artfully interspersed with the marketing-approved statements from the CEO and various employees is solid research that debunks IKEA’s claims of environmentalism and spotlights the devil’s bargain we’ve made by embracing mass-produced cheap furniture over careful craftsmanship.

And then there’s the chapter on the dangers of cheap food. I gave up meat twenty years ago, so the description of what the pork industry calls “PSE” (for “pale soft exudative”) left me shuddering but secure in my moral stance. Unfortunately for me, however, most of the chapter is devoted to the environmental deterioration and human degradation resulting from the explosion of Asian shrimp farms. Shrimp is a significant component of my diet, in part precisely because it’s become so cheap. This presents a dilemma I have yet to resolve.

•   •   •

Shell is not advocating that we all spend profligately in service of craftsmanship and social or environmental responsibility. On the contrary, she admonishes Whole Foods for contributing to the false dichotomy of value vs. quality. “What is missing here,” she says, “is what we used to take for granted — the happy medium. Consumers are left to choose between discount retailers whose practices they find questionable and high-end stores whose prices they cannot afford.”

Who gets it right? According to Shell’s book: Wegmans, a small chain of grocery stores in the Northeastern U.S. I’ve never been to one, but I read the description hungrily. (If any Wegmans shoppers read this blog, I’d love to know what you think of it.)

The cost of change, in fact, may not be nearly as prohibitive as we think. A University of Massachusetts economist calculates that, for example, increasing the wages of Mexican apparel workers by 30% would raise the price of a shirt in the United States by just 1.2%. Would you pay an extra quarter on your $20 shirt to make that kind of difference in the life of a Mexican sweatshop workers? I would, if I could trust that my quarter was actually going to Mexican workers and not to some corporate CEO.

•   •   •

Cheap is hot off the presses with a publication date of July 2009 and statistics as recent as 2008. Shell talks frankly about the recession we’re experiencing right now, and shows some of the ways in which America’s fascination with ‘cheap’ has contributed to our current problems. Hard though it may be in a time of rising prices and falling wages, I believe it’s good to be mindful of hidden costs, and this book is a great way to start.

(Photos by Kenneth Hynek, Stef Noble, and marissaorton.)

A visit to the Island of Misfit Foods

The first of my two guest posts is up at Get Rich Slowly. GRS has long been my favorite personal finance blog, and was one of the main inspirations for Pocketmint. (Which is sort of a neat karmic circle, since JD credits my online personal journal of twelve years ago as the inspiration for his own web writing.)

A visit to the Island of Misfit Foods” is today’s topic: how I set my food snobbery aside and learned to love Grocery Outlet. If you enjoy the post and would like to see more from me, let JD know in the GRS comments. (These articles are ‘audition’ pieces for a regular writing gig over there. There are six other very strong candidates however, so I’m trying not to hold my breath.)

For those of you coming from Get Rich Slowly, welcome! Feel free to poke around in the tags in the sidebar at right for other posts of interest here on Pocketmint, or subscribe to the RSS feed. I also post to Twitter and you’re welcome to follow me there, but it’s a personal account where I talk about everything, not just personal finance.

My fingers seem to be healing, so maybe the worst is over. I hope to return to ten-finger typing — and more Pocketmint posts — soon.

Shopping for happiness

With the entire country in dire financial turmoil this week, I’ve been fighting my own great depression with the quintessential American pastime: shopping!

Well, sort of. I didn’t go on any kind of wild spree, nor was I shopping just for shopping’s sake; we’ve had a few months to grow our home-improvement fund since our last big remodeling outlay, and so I made a list of the next steps I want to take. It’s a longish list that includes some cleaning and organizing, some remodeling and landscaping, and some things to purchase or replace. Most of the shopping (like pricing attic insulation, or careful selection of litter box scoops) makes for less-than-fascinating blog fodder, but I’ll share a couple of exceptions.

Last Saturday I made a trip down to what might be Seattle’s best little shopping secret: the Pacific Coast Feather outlet store. You almost have to hear about it through word of mouth, as it’s not even mentioned on Pacific Coast’s own web site, much less advertised anywhere else. It’s a factory outlet in the original sense of the term: there’s just one, right next to the factory, and it holds mostly overstocks and discontinued items, occasionally seconds. (You may not know — I didn’t for a long time — but most ‘outlet stores’ in malls carry predominantly items specially made for those outlets, of cheaper materials and manufacture than regular merchandise from the same company.)

The PCF outlet is a bare-bones shopping experience, just a warehouse with some industrial tables, bins, and shelving piled with feathery bedding. Available stock varies: sheet and pillowcase options can be sparse; you’ll have the best luck with pillows and comforters. I expected to get a basic white down comforter but was happy to find a chambray stripe instead. I also picked up two of my favorite pillows, the ones with a feather core surrounded with down on all sides. Then I had to resist the urge to add a feather bed to my haul. Bargains can be a slippery slope! But I’m consciously keeping a tight rein on unplanned purchases.

Next up was replacing our dishes. We have some plastic Ikea kid dishes, some Ikea stoneware that Jak picked out before we were living together, and a twelve-place stoneware set that his mom gave us a few years ago. I’ve lived with them so far for reasons of frugality, but the frustrations include:

  • the table settings don’t fit our lifestyle: we have way too many large plates and never enough bowls;
  • the large plates of the better set are ginormous (12.5″ diameter) and don’t fit in standard cabinets or the dishwasher …
  • … nor do they help with portion control!
  • various pieces of both are scratched, chipped, or broken and missing altogether;
  • the better set doesn’t include any serving pieces, and is impossible to match;
  • and while I can imagine many less attractive options, these aren’t my preferred style.

I’ve never really shopped for good dishes before, so I was appalled to discover that ordinary stoneware typically runs $10 to $12 per bowl or plate! We’re not talking fine china here, yeesh. I wasn’t ready to drop $400 on new dishes, so I kept looking for a cheaper option.

Outlet store? I remembered there was a Mikasa at a nearby outlet mall (for loose values of ‘nearby’ — actually about 30 miles away). But when I looked it up, I discovered that Mikasa had closed all its retail stores and gone web-only. Thank goodness I didn’t just drive out there.

I’ll spare you the rest of the dead ends and just skip to the finale: I did eventually find two real bargains that fit our needs. For cheap daily dishes I ended up in Corelle’s online clearance section, where I bought 8 bowls ($1.19) and 8 ‘luncheon’ plates ($1.49). Corelle isn’t my idea of ’stylish’ but it’s nicer than plastic, lightweight, easy to clean, and virtually indestructible — a good choice for the kids and our informal lunches and snacks.

I had nearly despaired of getting a nice dinnerware set I both liked and could afford before I finally found the clearance section at Pfaltzgraff. They have a surprisingly large selection of discontinued patterns, both sets and open stock, for as little as $2 and $3 apiece.

I found a style from last year that Jak and I both liked, and selected ten each of the bowls, small plates, and dinner plates, plus six mugs, two serving bowls, one serving tray, and a coordinating decorative bowl and urn. (We can only seat eight, but I got extra plates and bowls in case of future breakage; with a discontinued pattern I assume replacements will be hard to come by.) Total price: $126. Then, icing on the cake: my usual online coupon search got me an extra $25 off; after tax and shipping (dishes are heavy!) the grand total was $134.

I confess that the decorative bowl and urn were impulse purchases not on the original shopping list, but I judged them to be well worth the extra $16 or so. We sorely need some decoration around our house; I’ve just been too focused on the functional basics to go looking for any.

And while yes, I know that shopping is not a cure for depression — either mine or the economy’s — sometimes new things do make me happy, especially when they directly improve my daily environment. I love snuggling up in bed with the new comforter and fluffy pillows. I expect the Pfaltzgraff, when it arrives, to make cooking and serving dinner more enjoyable and cleaning up afterward less of a frustration. Heck, I’m even a little bit pleased to have a better litter scoop!

I’m glad (and a little amazed) that we have enough money right now that we can selectively upgrade for attractiveness and better functionality. It’s a nice feeling.

(Photo by pillowhead designs.)