The Downfall of Abercrombie and Fitch
Over the summer, Abercrombie and Fitch announced that they would improve customer service. They succeeded. As a result, the brand has begun its slow but inevitable death.
You might think that embroidering "Abercrombie and Fitch" on the back of select polo shirts underneath the collar so that when one "pops like it's hot" yet one more billboard that screams "I (Mom and Dad) just shelled out 80 bucks for my shirt!" becomes apparent is tacky and shows desperation, but trust me, that can't hurt the brand. Back in my early high school days, before A&F completely succumbed to shirts like "I'm Easy" and "Serial Bachelor," which are sick but at least honest, their shirts made absolutely no sense. Yet kids still bought.
Don't get me wrong, they were kinda romantic. To this day I'm strongly considering quitting school and becoming an Abercrombie Lift Operator ("Work to live, live to ski"... Sail away, sail away, sail away...), or perhaps serving the community by joining the A&F Canine Rescue Unit (You know those kegs around the St. Bernards don't actually have whiskey in them? Poor canines...). There was this one kid whose parents were either on a budget (see: sane) or just downright cruel and only got him one shirt from the popular store, so he'd wear the thing every other day and as a result I always thought "I really gotta go visit Dave's Tree Farm." Dave woulda got a lot of business off that if they'd only listed an address.
"Abercrombie and Fitch Waste Management" and "Abercrombie and Fitch Dry Cleaner" never made it onto the long-sleeve T's, but if they had, rest assured, the kids would have bought. It wasn't the logo or the illustration or the material or the fit or the cut - it was the name! Abercrombie and Fitch. Yes, it sounds dignified (stupid limeys), but it wasn't just its wonderful flow and 4-syllableness (in recent years, "Fitch" has found himself ousted on some shirts, giving "Abercrombie" center stage) that caught kids attention.
Like a road trip to Des Moines, acquiring clothing at Abercrombie and Fitch was not about the destination, but the journey. The clothing was only proof that you'd done it! You were adult, you were hip, you were all grows up...
You were... a veteran?
When Abercrombie (see? No Fitch.) announced they were going to improve customer service, those of us who had actually been in the store recognized "improve" meant "introduce." Introduce they did. I never actually bought anything there myself (my lunch table didn't have an apparel requirement), but that's not to say I never went into the store. I had to know what this "A&F Lifestyle" was all about. Sure, you might have once see the kinky, downright raunchy magazine, but that's just a front. Peace and Love? No way - as a store, Abercrombie and Fitch was war.
A&F had employees, but once the object was for them to remain as inconspicuous as possible. Like the French Resistance, most of them were there but didn't actually do anything. Perhaps a more watchful eye could catch someone folding clothes and then, then get them to find those jeans in 34x34 in the back room, or perhaps unlock the dressing room. But such fanfare was reserved for parents... dorky parents. As every teenager (especially teenage boy) knows, shopping with mother is about as conducive to coolness as Star Trek. The cool kids didn't shop with their parents, they had the credit card or the cash and, if they were freshmen or sophomores, friends with cars. At the very least they'd get their parents to drop them off... for heaven's sake, parent, whatever you do just don't come into the store.
Would you bring mother to war with you? Of course not. Certainly not dad, as he's usually the breadwinner. Woe to those kids whose dad ever went into A&F. "Thirty dollars for a t-shirt?!" He wouldn't even keep his voice down, as mother would at least do. He wasn't hip, he wasn't with it, and he certainly wasn't going to let you spend your allowance on this stuff. "What the hell is an Abercrombie Lift Operator, anyway?"
"I got one!!!"
...
"Have you TRIED our new jeans!?"
...
And with that homoerotic question, my studies were over. No, I never actually tried your old jeans, Mr. Fitch. I was just here to watch. But if I wanted to try your jeans, I woulda found them myself, then picked the lock of the dressing room to try them on. I don't need this... this... service! Do you know what table I sat at when I was in high school?! What is this, 'cause I'm an adult now I need customer service? And I thought the whole gay thing finally went out with the Philly season of "The Real World", why did you keep the lisp?
But it wasn't just for me, even the teeny-boppers were being... helped. A&F was now the same story as J. Crew, Marshall Field's and every other store. It was ordered... it was... socially contracted.
It's just any other store now. As a result, it will be replaced.
You might think that embroidering "Abercrombie and Fitch" on the back of select polo shirts underneath the collar so that when one "pops like it's hot" yet one more billboard that screams "I (Mom and Dad) just shelled out 80 bucks for my shirt!" becomes apparent is tacky and shows desperation, but trust me, that can't hurt the brand. Back in my early high school days, before A&F completely succumbed to shirts like "I'm Easy" and "Serial Bachelor," which are sick but at least honest, their shirts made absolutely no sense. Yet kids still bought.
Don't get me wrong, they were kinda romantic. To this day I'm strongly considering quitting school and becoming an Abercrombie Lift Operator ("Work to live, live to ski"... Sail away, sail away, sail away...), or perhaps serving the community by joining the A&F Canine Rescue Unit (You know those kegs around the St. Bernards don't actually have whiskey in them? Poor canines...). There was this one kid whose parents were either on a budget (see: sane) or just downright cruel and only got him one shirt from the popular store, so he'd wear the thing every other day and as a result I always thought "I really gotta go visit Dave's Tree Farm." Dave woulda got a lot of business off that if they'd only listed an address.
"Abercrombie and Fitch Waste Management" and "Abercrombie and Fitch Dry Cleaner" never made it onto the long-sleeve T's, but if they had, rest assured, the kids would have bought. It wasn't the logo or the illustration or the material or the fit or the cut - it was the name! Abercrombie and Fitch. Yes, it sounds dignified (stupid limeys), but it wasn't just its wonderful flow and 4-syllableness (in recent years, "Fitch" has found himself ousted on some shirts, giving "Abercrombie" center stage) that caught kids attention.
Like a road trip to Des Moines, acquiring clothing at Abercrombie and Fitch was not about the destination, but the journey. The clothing was only proof that you'd done it! You were adult, you were hip, you were all grows up...
You were... a veteran?
When Abercrombie (see? No Fitch.) announced they were going to improve customer service, those of us who had actually been in the store recognized "improve" meant "introduce." Introduce they did. I never actually bought anything there myself (my lunch table didn't have an apparel requirement), but that's not to say I never went into the store. I had to know what this "A&F Lifestyle" was all about. Sure, you might have once see the kinky, downright raunchy magazine, but that's just a front. Peace and Love? No way - as a store, Abercrombie and Fitch was war.
A&F had employees, but once the object was for them to remain as inconspicuous as possible. Like the French Resistance, most of them were there but didn't actually do anything. Perhaps a more watchful eye could catch someone folding clothes and then, then get them to find those jeans in 34x34 in the back room, or perhaps unlock the dressing room. But such fanfare was reserved for parents... dorky parents. As every teenager (especially teenage boy) knows, shopping with mother is about as conducive to coolness as Star Trek. The cool kids didn't shop with their parents, they had the credit card or the cash and, if they were freshmen or sophomores, friends with cars. At the very least they'd get their parents to drop them off... for heaven's sake, parent, whatever you do just don't come into the store.
Would you bring mother to war with you? Of course not. Certainly not dad, as he's usually the breadwinner. Woe to those kids whose dad ever went into A&F. "Thirty dollars for a t-shirt?!" He wouldn't even keep his voice down, as mother would at least do. He wasn't hip, he wasn't with it, and he certainly wasn't going to let you spend your allowance on this stuff. "What the hell is an Abercrombie Lift Operator, anyway?"
Perhaps some newbies survived this onslaught. After initiation, they were free to roam the war zone. That Hobbesian State of Nature. Was life nasty, brutish, and short inside Abercrombie and Fitch? Well, maybe you'd come out breathing, but what about your social life? If you thought putting on the suave facade at school was a big deal for these tools, you should have seen this place! Who's outcooling who? Who's going to come in, find the stuff they want, buy it and leave while looking like the baddest cat in the history of the world ? Sociologists could have written entire books on the place. It was hormones, cologne, perfume, money, power, makeup, hair products, a giant moose head, and combat all combined into one giant goulash of delicious teenage retardation.
"I got one!!!"...
"Have you TRIED our new jeans!?"
...
And with that homoerotic question, my studies were over. No, I never actually tried your old jeans, Mr. Fitch. I was just here to watch. But if I wanted to try your jeans, I woulda found them myself, then picked the lock of the dressing room to try them on. I don't need this... this... service! Do you know what table I sat at when I was in high school?! What is this, 'cause I'm an adult now I need customer service? And I thought the whole gay thing finally went out with the Philly season of "The Real World", why did you keep the lisp?
But it wasn't just for me, even the teeny-boppers were being... helped. A&F was now the same story as J. Crew, Marshall Field's and every other store. It was ordered... it was... socially contracted.
It's just any other store now. As a result, it will be replaced.
RIP
Abercrombie and Fitch
1997-2005
posted by Michael Glud at 9:38 AM
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