“But . . .” She elongated the word with purpose. “It has no Internet presence, no Facebook page, no social media interaction at all, so it’s become fairly invisible.”
“People spend way too much time on their computers and phones,” he grumbled. But hadn’t he told his mother the very same thing last year?
“The store’s reputation got it listed in Philly’s Five Best for ten years in a row,” she continued. “It didn’t make the cut last year, and it won’t make it this year because we’re out of date with some of the top designers for our niche clientele.”
“But Mom was always on the cutting edge,” he protested. “She and Kathy talked about that all the time.”
Tara’s face told him that was no longer the case. “I called Kathy. She said that money got tight when two corporate bridals moved into town, one in Cherry Hill and one in King of Prussia.”
His mother had never breathed a word to him. Why not? He could have helped, could have gotten her marketing advice from experts in business.
“Your mother and Kathy closed ranks, keeping things more minimized than they had in the past. And then a wave of brides came in, tried dresses on, got sized, then ordered them off the Internet at a discount price.”
“So the store takes the brunt of overhead cost for time, employees . . .”
“And the online site gets the sale. Pretty much.”
“How can you fight that kind of thing?” He stared at Tara as the decision to close the store loomed bigger. “It’s a tiny store surrounded by fire-breathing dragons. Who can win that battle?”
“How did David beat Goliath? Faith, guts, and the will to survive.” She sat back as her food cooled, and she locked eyes with him. “But that’s what I need to ask you. Are you in this for the long haul? Because bringing things up to par to survive takes hands-on work, sales, and energy. If you’re not keeping the store, then it’s probably better to liquidate what you can, give the women who worked for your mother a severance, and sell the shop.”
“You discovered all this in four hours of checking bridal gowns?” Suddenly her spiel sounded a little too convenient. How did a sharp young woman like Tara Simonetti, with admittedly no experience in bridal, come up with an entire dynamic for his mother’s three decades of hard work and dedication in one afternoon? Impossible.
“Who are you really, Tara?” He leaned in, delving for answers. “Who do you work for? May’s? Filene’s? Because no way did you walk in off the street yesterday fresh from the sticks of Pennsyl-tucky and figure this out in a few hours.”
He thought to shock her into the truth.
Wrong.
She burst out laughing and he sat up straighter, baffled and not one whit amused. “This isn’t funny.”
“Oh, it is.” She took a sip of water, giggled, then sat back and wiped her mouth carefully. “If you could just see your face right now.”
“Angry? Disappointed? Disillusioned? Take your pick.”
“All three,” she assured him. “First, you’re being corporate lawyer silly, and it’s downright preposterous but kind of cute too. In a vintage TV show kind of way. Although I prefer my alpha males to have a clue. That keeps them from jumping to conclusions that have no basis in fact.”
He started to sputter and she held up a hand. “My turn.” She waited for his nod, then ticked off her fingers. “You’re too close to the situation to see it. You’ve suffered a keen loss, your heart isn’t in any of this, your workers are wonderful women, or at least they sound like it from everything I’ve heard, but they know more about the store’s bottom line than you do, and that’s because they don’t look at last year’s numbers. They look at this year’s appointments.”
He hated that she made sense, but she did.
“You can’t sell gowns to empty chairs, so if you’re going to keep this going, we have to tempt girls in, show them the goods and convince them that first-class service reduces the stress of their wedding day, then lock in the sale.”
His head went instantly to major-league-style ad campaigns. “You’re talking some big expenditures,” he warned.
She shook her head. “Not necessarily. I can arrange to have the website done by my friend Truly. She’s a whiz at graphic design, and she’d do it for the cost of her wedding gown from stock. She’s getting married next fall, and bartering is great for a bride on a budget.”
“Okay . . .”
“I can put us on Facebook. We can arrange trunk shows; we can call on former brides to model for us. Nothing like having brides dressed in Elena’s Bridal gowns to do impromptu appearances at area fairs and festivals. It’s not just about the gown, Greg; it’s the name recognition of quality and substance. Some folks will opt for cheap-as-they-can-get, then scramble to fix things when they go awry, but there’s another type of shopper out there. Women who know what they want, who like the security of a good store that stands behind its work and respects the American wallet. We can be that store again, but that’s really up to you.”