From the Editor

From the Editor
The little chain that could…

By Alison Embrey Medina, Executive Editor
July 01, 2009

"Hello. Welcome to Sabon. Have you shopped with us before?" Walking around the streets of Chicago’s Gold Coast area on a beautiful June afternoon, these were the first words uttered to me as I peeked into a dark, but lovely smelling, entryway of a store that attracted my senses from the sidewalk—some kind of soap store, I presumed. The gentleman speaking to me from inside the shop was small in stature, with gentle eyes and a pleasant disposition. I told him that the brand name was familiar, but that I had not shopped there before—to which he responded by quietly leading me in and hanging my purse on a large wooden coat rack. “Come,” he said. I obliged.

I came to find out his name was Anwar (which is actually his last name, but what he chooses to go by) and that he was the owner of this store and one other location in the Chicago area. He led me to a large, communal washing sink in the center of the store, removed my watch and went to work. While Anwar sampled scrubs, oils and lotions on my hands and arms, he talked to me (in detail) about the characteristics of each product—all made in Israel—and the Dead Sea’s minerals and salts, which are said to have “healing powers” and have lured women for centuries.

As he spoke and tested product after product, I half listened intently and half observed my surroundings, taking in the lovely aromas. The store (1,200 sq. ft., I discovered) at once emits an antique apothecary and contemporary boutique feel, with the right ornamental touches to invite exploration. Product is stacked on deep mahogany wall units with underlit glass shelves that create a modern spa effect, but grounded by the materiality of the surrounding wood. The communal sink in front of me featured oil-rubbed bronze faucets and foot pedals that allowed me to operate the water flow.

Curious now, I asked Anwar who had designed the store. “We did,” he answered simply. The fixturing and tables were found and collected from multiple antique stores. The communal sink, an exquisite sculptural stone piece, was hand-carved in Israel and shipped, piece by piece, to the United States. Talk about authenticity.

In addition to his two stores in Chicago, Anwar says there are nine Sabon outposts in New York, one store in Boston, and 23 stores in the brand’s native Israel. Before the recession hit, Anwar says he and his partners had grand plans of opening 100 U.S. stores by 2012. Now, with times being as they are, they have shelved that goal momentarily, but are still focused on expansion in the way that they’ve grown accustomed to up until now—one store at a time.

In November, Anwar expects to open a smaller 800-sq.-ft. Sabon in a new center in Chicago. He showed me detailed renderings of the new space—this one may include a small lounge area for waiting husbands. Always weary of the economic environment, Anwar says the new space won’t have a two-story shelving aesthetic like some of the brand’s New York locations (“It nearly doubled the construction costs,” he says), and the perimeter shelving will be downlit, versus the contemporary uplit glass shelves in this store. And, of course, new and different antique stores will be scoured.

But that, he explains, is the point. Why would each store look exactly the same? What’s the fun in that? He adds that each of the brand’s stores is unique in its overall look and aesthetic—the one common denominator is the experience the consumer will have once inside. I bought three items, and may have bought more if I hadn’t been concerned about packing up my suitcase the next morning. (Anwar is quite the motivational seller.)

The store and the experience grabbed my attention. Perhaps you’ve heard of the chain, perhaps you haven’t. They have been chugging along since their first U.S. store opened in 1997, and the future is wide open. They are the little chain that could go on to greatness, could ride out the economic flux, could create a real name for themselves. One store—and one experience—at a time.

Alison Embrey Medina
Executive Editor
aembrey@ddimagazine.com