Retail space

Something I've been thinking about for a while now is the possibility of fallout from the economic recession for the organization of retail space.  The obvious is that the next real estate ripple following the widespread foreclosure and abandonment of domestic spaces will be a knock-on effect on commercial spaces, and we're already seeing this beginning to happen.  Empty storefronts are appearing here and there, some large retail chains are in trouble, and even in my mid-sized city which has been somewhat shielded so far from the worst of the shrinking economy, I'm told that there's a good deal of vacant space.

But other than the simple closure of businesses and the consequent emptying of buildings, we may see more interesting and even adaptive responses of businesses to the changing economic climate.  I was really interested in the article in today's Globe and Mail describing the response of one of our large Canadian chains - Canadian Tire (which, for non-Canadian readers, sells much, much more than tires!).  The re-think of the square foot ratio in so-called 'smart stores' is something that probably needs to happen at many levels, and not just because of the current crisis but also looking forward to a sustainable future (or possibly even a resource positive one).  It only seems to make obvious sense to have your business footprint be as small as it can possibly be to maximize business profit, but I wonder if there are more subtle effects of the shrinking down of retail spaces like this.  On the weekend, I was in one of the smaller Canadian Tire stores.  It was busy, cluttered, and dynamic.  It was impossible to walk down an aisle without squeezing around other shoppers, making eye contact and conversation.  It was a kind of bazaar atmosphere, not unpleasant at all.  It reminded me a bit of summer experiences in small town general stores picking up the essential food and supplies for a weekend camping trip.  We were all having a little bit of a party.  Contrast this with the typical experience at one of the giant Canadian Tire stores in the outer reaches of a city (substitute any kind of large retailer that you like).  Gigantic wide-aisled warehouse sized shopping spaces make it possible to slip in and out of the store without coming within 10 feet of another human being.  And when you do pass someone, you're most likely to keep coasting without a glance, treating them more as a part of the background than as another member of your species worthy of attention and interest.  In an odd kind of way, it's like the contrast between high-density living in the city and the wide, curvy roads of the newer suburbs.

I know there's much more to this.  I'm really just scratching the surface here.  I can hear the counter-argument that when you're out on a Saturday morning looking for a new washer for the bathroom faucet, you're hardly interested in getting wrapped up in some kind of crazy hardware cotillion.  I hear you.  And I know that what's being done at Canadian Tire involves much more than a simple contraction of aisle width -- it sounds as though a good number of clever tactics are being used to maximize the number of dollars shed from shoppers' pockets.  But at the same time I have to wonder:  in times where we're all feeling pretty anxious about what new crisis might be around the corner, where we'd desperately like to believe that the worst is behind us for a while, yet our sensible selves warn us that there could be more nastiness on the way, are we likely to want to take some comfort from rubbing shoulders with strangers?  Will remembering that we're part of a larger community make us feel better?  I suspect that it will.  But regardless of how we think about these kinds of shifts in space, what interests me the most is the potent influence of our spatial arrangements on our movements and feelings.  Where we put our rooms and corridors can exert social control in all kinds of interesting ways.

Comments

[Michael]

This is why Vincenzo's in Kitchener, which is tiny but overflowing with both people and all kinds of food, is incomparably better than other local gourmet shops.

[colin]

Absolutely. Vincenzo's reminds me of the little shops where my mother did her daily shopping when I was a youngster in Britain. A sensory cornucopia and the hub of her social network as well. I wonder how Vincenzo's planned move to a much larger space on King St. will affect all of this (though my selfish side is happy -- they're moving to within about a 3 minute walk of my house!).