The sandal rant

[siercia]

This is where I get all cranky at retail stupidity.

There's really two parts to this rant. One is all about clothing retailer's tendency to try and push clothes at us that have parents dressing their little girls like Brittney Spears - little crop tops, clothes with glitter, platform sandals and the like. Some of it is just trashy, some of it can't be good for them (I mean, why on earth should a toddler just learning how to walk wear platform sandals, or shoes with heels? That's GOT to mess with their physical development). This leads us to the fact that finding good toddler shoes is at best difficult, and at times impossible. Which leads us to Stride Rite, and the source of the current rant.

We went out last month and bought Widget a pair of sandals at Stride Rite. (I found the receipt this morning - it was one day short of a month.) They measured her and all, we found a pair that fit, were cute, and had covered toes, which is good since she's still mostly crawling. They weren't cheap ($27) but they were comfortable and well constructed so I didn't mind. Then, she hit a growth spurt. These sandals now barely fit her - you have to jam them onto her feet. This too is fine. While it frustrates me to have to go back and buy a new pair (the first ones look barely worn), that's hardly the store's fault.

What isn't fine is the fact that when we went to the store on Saturday, they had not a single pair of sandals in stock. Not a one. Apparently, we'd been there during their "clearance" sale of summer stock (Note, last time I checked June 23 was what, two days after the start of summer?). What pissed me off even further was the salesladie's presumption that I was only looking for sandals because I thought they'd be on sale, not that I might want sandals because it's still the middle of summer and they're more comfortable for Widget. (Now, granted, I'm not actually about to pay $40 for a pair of shoes that this kid will outgrow in another month, so we're going to wait until we think she's done with the growth spurt.)

What's truly ridiculous about this is how unrealistic it is to think that when you deal in children's (especially babies') clothing and shoes that you can use the same kinds of lead times you do for the seasonality of adult clothes. Sure, it's stupid, but an adult woman can shop for bathing suits or sandals for the summer in February - odds are her size won't change in the four months between purchasing and wearing. But how on earth are parents supposed to be able to predict what size their 15 month old child is going to be ONE month from now, never mind four months from now? I wouldn't even be so annoyed if the original Stride Rtie salesperson had recommended going up a half size to make sure she could wear these all summer because they weren't going to have sandals for much longer, or hell, even if she had recommended buying two pairs. I might not have done it, but at least then I would have been warned. I mean, even regular clothing stores still have SOME summer wear left on their shelves - I might not find exactly what I wanted, but I could still go and buy a bathing suit or pair of sandals now if I needed them. I certainly wouldn't have thought that one of the leading children's retailers would be so short sighted as to leave their customers stranded high and dry should their kids outgrow what was purchased at the beginning of the season.

I finally did manage to find a pair of sandals for her on the Nordstrom's website, and we'll make do with the current ones until they arrive. But I'm still cranky, and I thinnk that they may well have lost a customer - and I was planning on patronizing them regularly - they have good shoes, and staff that seems very good working with the toddler set.

Comments

[afb.livejournal.com]

Wow. I don't have kids, so this never would have occurred to me, but you are SPOT ON with all of this. It is something a smart business owner really ought to realize (and a really smart business owner would act on it, keeping kids' sandals IN STOCK until it's not summer anymore! come on! It's still JULY!).

I'm sorry for your bad experience. But I think you're completely right to be peeved! In your shoes, I'd probably fire off a letter to Stride Rite pointing out all the things you mentioned here. But I'm all for sending letters to companies when I'm not happy with their product or service. :)

[siercia]

I did just that. We'll see what they have to say for themselves. I'm thoroughly expecting a condescending "You just don't understand how the retail business works" response, but maybe I'll be pleasantly surprised.

Amen!

[sarahparah.livejournal.com]

I can't tell you how many pairs of shoes/dresses/outfits/whatever I've bought for Isabella that have gone UNWORN because of this very problem. You have no idea when these growth spurts are gonna hit -- totally unpredictable!

Re: Amen!

[siercia]

Oh yeah. We have a ton of stuff already that Widget never wore (or wore once). While that's frustrating, not being able to replace something that she's outgrown and needs really pisses me off. Maybe I'm just projecting my own preferences onto her, but I'd much rather not stuff her feet into socks and sneakers in the heat of summer. Hell, Stride Rite's own website quotes some study that toddler's feet sweat more than adults - you'd think they'd get the desire for sandals.

[epowell.livejournal.com]

Part of James Lilek (http://lileks.com/)'s 14 Jul 2002 column in the Star Tribune, shamelessly ripped without permission. (Or, just go to the damn column (http://www.startribune.com/stories/804/3050865.html) yourself...

Summer is done, friends. Summer is so last June. If you doubt me, head to the seasonal aisle of Local Beloved Retailer Target, which has replaced its gardening section with BACK TO SCHOOL supplies. In July.

I'm old enough to remember when these items appeared toward the end of August, when the summer was no longer fresh and new but a weary, worn, hot and shopworn thing lumbering its way into the grave of September -- then the sight of school supplies seemed apt. But now they're shoved on the shelf while the gunpowder smoke still hangs in the air from the 4th, all those blister-packed pens and 40-pouched backpacks, finger-pinching three-ring binders, and other accoutrements for the long march through the educational gulag. Why? Good Lord, can't you give the kids another month without rubbing their noses in their inevitable incarceration?

Then I remembered: Target does not exist in normal time. Target exists in the near future. When you enter a Target store, you shoot ahead 45 days. That's why there's never a TV tuned to a real channel in the electronics section; you'd see pictures of American jets taking off from aircraft carriers with the CNN logo "Iraq II: America's New Gulf War," and you'd wonder how you missed that one starting. That little chill you feel isn't the blast of air conditioning, but the temporal realignment field.

When you're walking up to a Target store and the clerks are running out screaming "THE SUN'S GONE NOVA!" worry. On the other hand, every time I approach a Target and they're not running out screaming, I think: we have 45 days more, at least. Sweet!

And yes, I can testify that Target already has freakin' back to school crap already.