Trendsurfing: Zine retail (The Times)
By David Rowan
You've heard of the magalogue - the glossy magazine as shopping catalogue. But what works for the Hearsts and Conde Nasts won't cut it for the hippest publishers at the cusp of popular culture. Instead, their cult magazines are reinventing themselves as chic real-world stores to sell editorially approved lifestyles directly to readers. And somewhere along the way, the street-cool ethos of the zine has evolved into a lucrative retail format.
Giant Robot, a ten-year-old magazine about Asian pop culture, is now an expanding store chain on America's West Coast. At the main Los Angeles branch, on Sawtelle Boulevard, you can buy watches that announce the time in Japanese, Bruce Lee coinholders, six-inch tall Uglydoll collectable toys - indeed, whatever merchandise wins the quarterly's editorial endorsement. "It's an Asian popular culture store designed to reflect the magazine," explains the publisher, Eric Nakamura. "We've talked about many of the items we carry, and this expands on what we write. And it's working, since other people are now copying us."
Mainstream magazines have already extended into retail: The Economist has its London bookshop, Hustler its Birmingham sex emporium. But today it is the zines, the more streetwise publications, that are taking the lead. Vice, a self-consciously controversial magazine given away in music and fashion shops, has opened stores in New York, LA and Toronto selling "high-tone street clothes". In London, it even plans a pub.
In the meantime, head to Islington to understand the appeal of zine retail. On a quiet back street off the Essex Road, an unmarked warehouse contains Britain's boldest attempt yet to combine publishing and merchandising. Microzine, which opened a year ago, is both a zine-style website and a two-floor retail space where you can buy anything from limited-edition designer trainers to rare sixties furniture. And on a damp Saturday in November, its eclectic stock - from £200 SealKay jeans to a £4,640 Technogym exercise bench - is attracting a steady stream of hipsters.
"We call it a reality magazine," explains Brian Donnellan, Microzine's head of marketing and design. "We get new products in every month or week, so it has a magazine's sense of immediacy, and we try to tell stories about every item - explaining the background to the Philippe Starck Puma trainers or the Mulberry-leather-wrapped Sharp television. You'll also have noticed there's no logo above the door. We wanted finding the store to be part of the journey."
The open-plan shop is laid out to resemble magazine photo-spreads, with a sports corner, a lounge section and a shelf of drinking and gambling products. "The idea is you'll come in for a pair of jeans and walk out with a toaster," Donnellan says. "Magazines like Arena, FHM, GQ and Wallpaper will all recommend products, but you have to go to 10 stores to get them. We wanted to create a one-stop shop where you never know what's coming in next - selling around a lifestyle so you could buy the whole thing." Microzine is now considering launching its own print magazine.
Could Eric Nakamura, at Giant Robot, ever see his retail business overtaking the publishing side? "We are a magazine first and foremost," he says firmly. "To shut down the magazine to concentrate on stores would be ridiculous, like cutting out our heart." Besides, he says, the zine has a few more brand extensions left. "We're opening a restaurant," Nakamura reveals. "I do think having a restaurant somewhat completes the Giant Robot experience ..."
(The Times, London, November 22 2004)
You've heard of the magalogue - the glossy magazine as shopping catalogue. But what works for the Hearsts and Conde Nasts won't cut it for the hippest publishers at the cusp of popular culture. Instead, their cult magazines are reinventing themselves as chic real-world stores to sell editorially approved lifestyles directly to readers. And somewhere along the way, the street-cool ethos of the zine has evolved into a lucrative retail format.
Giant Robot, a ten-year-old magazine about Asian pop culture, is now an expanding store chain on America's West Coast. At the main Los Angeles branch, on Sawtelle Boulevard, you can buy watches that announce the time in Japanese, Bruce Lee coinholders, six-inch tall Uglydoll collectable toys - indeed, whatever merchandise wins the quarterly's editorial endorsement. "It's an Asian popular culture store designed to reflect the magazine," explains the publisher, Eric Nakamura. "We've talked about many of the items we carry, and this expands on what we write. And it's working, since other people are now copying us."
Mainstream magazines have already extended into retail: The Economist has its London bookshop, Hustler its Birmingham sex emporium. But today it is the zines, the more streetwise publications, that are taking the lead. Vice, a self-consciously controversial magazine given away in music and fashion shops, has opened stores in New York, LA and Toronto selling "high-tone street clothes". In London, it even plans a pub.
In the meantime, head to Islington to understand the appeal of zine retail. On a quiet back street off the Essex Road, an unmarked warehouse contains Britain's boldest attempt yet to combine publishing and merchandising. Microzine, which opened a year ago, is both a zine-style website and a two-floor retail space where you can buy anything from limited-edition designer trainers to rare sixties furniture. And on a damp Saturday in November, its eclectic stock - from £200 SealKay jeans to a £4,640 Technogym exercise bench - is attracting a steady stream of hipsters.
"We call it a reality magazine," explains Brian Donnellan, Microzine's head of marketing and design. "We get new products in every month or week, so it has a magazine's sense of immediacy, and we try to tell stories about every item - explaining the background to the Philippe Starck Puma trainers or the Mulberry-leather-wrapped Sharp television. You'll also have noticed there's no logo above the door. We wanted finding the store to be part of the journey."
The open-plan shop is laid out to resemble magazine photo-spreads, with a sports corner, a lounge section and a shelf of drinking and gambling products. "The idea is you'll come in for a pair of jeans and walk out with a toaster," Donnellan says. "Magazines like Arena, FHM, GQ and Wallpaper will all recommend products, but you have to go to 10 stores to get them. We wanted to create a one-stop shop where you never know what's coming in next - selling around a lifestyle so you could buy the whole thing." Microzine is now considering launching its own print magazine.
Could Eric Nakamura, at Giant Robot, ever see his retail business overtaking the publishing side? "We are a magazine first and foremost," he says firmly. "To shut down the magazine to concentrate on stores would be ridiculous, like cutting out our heart." Besides, he says, the zine has a few more brand extensions left. "We're opening a restaurant," Nakamura reveals. "I do think having a restaurant somewhat completes the Giant Robot experience ..."
(The Times, London, November 22 2004)
posted by David Rowan at Monday, November 22, 2004
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