Yeah... I don’t know why I read this. I am definitely not the target audience. I’m not a CEO, entrepreneur, or business student. I despise the idea of getting an MBA. Yet I sat next to a businesswoman on a plane once, and she recommended this book to me. Pretty sure that I checked it out on Amazon and it had decent reviews there, so I thought I’d try my hand at reading something different. That’s what I get for being adventurous, I suppose.
The basic premise of the book is that there are more households in the middle and upper-middle classes in the United States than ever. By middle class, the authors mean households making at least $50k a year; they make it pretty clear early on that they’re not interested in anyone who doesn’t make at least that much. Because what’s the appeal in making products for poor people? None, apparently. These middle-class households have a healthy appetite for consumer goods, and are willing to pay a premium for goods that are of higher quality or better design. Dubbing these goods “New Luxury,” Silverstein and Fiske argue that their new prevalence in the marketplace has significantly and permanently altered the consumer landscape.
As a corollary, there are the concepts of “trading up” - i.e., spending more in a particular consumer category than your income might predict — as well as “trading down”, which means making product compromises for the aforementioned sake of trading up in other, more important categories. I do think they’re on to something here. Thinking of my own spending habits, I either shop for groceries at Wal-Mart, where I pick up basic shelf-stable items like cereal and granola, or I pay a premium to shop at New Seasons, a local Portland chain akin to Whole Foods with excellent produce, meat, and other fresh foods. That’s it. The middle is decidedly absent - I almost never visit a Safeway, QFC, or other middle-market brand. Those are boring and predictable. When I buy stuff like cereal, where I always buy the same brand anyway, I try to pay the least amount for it possible, hence Wal-Mart. But I want my produce to be really good, and New Seasons offers a pleasantly bougie shopping experience to boot.
That’s it. That’s the whole premise of the book. Sounds kind of interesting but... is it really that novel? Better products at higher prices than the market average are always being introduced. I suppose the uniqueness of “New Luxury” goods is that they sell at a higher volume than expected based on their sale price. But is this really a new phenomenon? There’s no way to really say, because this book is essentially ahistorical. Silverstein and Fiske are pretty much only interested in the period from 1950-2003. Furthermore, their definition of “New Luxury” is really broad and not terribly helpful. They claim that stores such as Williams-Sonoma are the epitome of “New Luxury,” and sure, I can see that. Williams-Sonoma is more expensive than your standard department store, and it’s done really well for itself by selling quality kitchenware at higher prices and basically inventing a new market for those types of goods. But what about Trader Joe’s? It there really anything luxurious about that? The authors say yes, because the mission of TJ’s was to bring unusual grocery items to a well-educated consumer at affordable prices. Ok... but doesn’t the affordable price point kind of negate the whole “luxury” thing? I mean sure, TJ’s exploited a white space in the market, but I don’t know that they’ve necessarily persuaded people to spend more on groceries. Another company they devote the better part of a chapter to is Panera. They claim that Panera represents “New Luxury” because it’s a step above fast-food chains like McDonald’s. But Panera isn’t a sit-down restaurant, either. So, isn’t that the definition of middle market?? After all, I don’t know what exists between McDonald’s fast-food and Panera’s fast-casual.
So the examples feel both cherry-picked (why would consultants be interested in any businesses other than those with absolutely explosive growth?) as well as not terribly illustrative of the core concept. Basically, it kind of comes down to: Guess what! The middle class has money! The middle class will pay more for products that are well-designed and “new” in some way! If you find a gap in the market, you can make a new product and sell it for a higher price and potentially at a really high volume!! And make tons of money and reach millions in sales in just a few years!! Omg do it now!!
That said, the authors also don’t do a terribly good job of illustrating how the middle is losing out. They speak highly of new companies that quickly attain huge sales, yes, but they don’t really analyze the effects of those new companies on existing players. I think a more accurate description of what’s happening is that the middle is permanently shifting upwards. Instead of paying $15 for a department store bra, someone might spend $30 for a fashionable one from Victoria’s Secret. As VS market share grows, those $15 bras look more and more boring. Eventually people stop buying department store bras altogether, to the extent that a top search result on Google is “where can I buy a bra that isn’t Victoria’s Secret?” VS took the bra market in a different direction, but VS is in turn now being overtaken by companies like ThirdLove and Aerie, which offer more comfortable bras in less flashy patterns. The new price point of the $30 bra is here to stay, though. I don’t know if that really illustrates the concept of “New Luxury,” or if it just shows the churn of businesses more generally. Brands are always falling into and out of favor. There’s nothing new or novel about that. And there will always be a new competitor who tries to sell a “better” version of the same product for more money (think of what HydroFlask has done to the Thermos industry). So I don’t know that the book has really persuaded me of anything.
But that’s what I get for reading a book whose copyright is held by the Boston Consulting Group. It’s really just a puffed-up executive report — not terribly well-organized one, might I add — that seems like something when it’s really nothing. Ah, marketing. What a thing you are.