With digital camera in hand, and no sense of what lie before me, like a blind pilgrim with nothing other than faith I moved from Italy, to Greece, to Monaco, to Cyprus, to Turkey, to Egypt, and back again. I did not know where I was going; I had no grand plan, no Rand-McNally maps, I had only life’s serendipitous highway before me. I elect to believe that the universe conspires to reveal to us that, which we need to know (usually) .While not in search of the Holy Grail, or the Arc of Moses, I traipsed up and down prosaic cobblestone streets, vermin infested neighborhoods, well appointed boulevards, and all sorts of retail environments to document store windows. Much (too much) of what I was exposed to were perfunctory windows, as common and as ho-hum as a lesser novel by Dostoevsky. This only reaffirmed my contention that shopping has become by and large as ordinary as sin, and practiced as much. It is not just nostalgia that drives my passion for visual merchandising, there was a time when retailers relied on the drama of surprise, constructed tableau's worthy of a painting, employed artists that were creative, clever, smart, and understood that the consumer craves magic. They made the experience of shopping transcendent. Those days have gone the way of penny candy.
Here are a few notable exceptions that I found worthy of recording for posterity. Some windows are charming, and reflect with genuine authenticity the world directly around them. Some windows demonstrate why reinforcing/reasserting our national identity is a role of the merchant. Many displays are so specific that they could only exist right where they are. Store windows can be psychologically complex, a good visual merchandiser is a therapist, deciphering the symbols, and probing the conscience for secrets.
My gift to you is a little bit of the retail world.
Dance of the Seven Veils:
In conservative, Cyprus, predominantly Muslim, I found a better fabric store with an unusual window featuring a gamely female posed in a traditional Turkish dance stance, active, in mid-movement, which rang as authentic. The fabric, which was blue and sequiny, was draped around the buxom body suggesting a harem style outfit, and then ran down her extended arm like a waterfall, puddling to the ground. The pose was so specific and willful, that it became symbolic, it subtly said this is our culture, this belongs to us.
I Was Floored:
In Lindos, Greece I was fascinated by the undulating sidewalks and floors of the medieval city, an intricate labyrinth is sea sanded pebbles of black and white set on their sides so that sandal-wearing pilgrims descending the hilly climbs to the Acropolis of Lindos had better traction. Greeks are practical, form meeting function. The floor patterns were plentiful, floral, ornamental, sometimes directional, and symbolic. Inside the marketplace, the floors of the vendors were just so beautiful, far superior to any merchandise being offered. I wish I sould have purchased the floor, or a replica of it for by foyer or bathroom. Sad to note that the artistry of laborers centuries ago working with limited resources supersedes today’s technology.
Great Art and Graffiti:
Egypt is a country full of graffiti; it sets a tone of descent, anger and oppression. On the main shopping plaza in Cairo, reproduction European masterworks are offered for a few Euros. The European Baroque and Rococo works are strangely restrained, white powered women in pink gowns, on languid swings in some bucolic, pastoral retreat. They are perfunctory prints, sincere, but I thought when counter balanced by the brazen graffiti, a far more effective and interesting display than any ordinary white wall would have provided. The tension between the two art forms was almost exciting.
Egyptian Poverty:
The level of poverty in Egypt is overwhelming. As one travels through the streets of Alexandria and Cairo (major cities) one cannot understand the oppressive weight of poverty. As you dissect these pictures you’ll not that the windows of the cars are missing, they were stolen and sold as scrap, car doors have been replaced, the original doors fell to the same fate as the windows. Unwrapped food and perishables are delivered by burros and bulls. Animals wander the streets, sheep and goats forage the garbage in the gutters. The stores and shops are open and filter directly out and onto the street, the notion of a sidewalk, as a public space does not exist. Business goes on as usual.
A Greek Paean to Hollywood:
At the Plaka in Greece in the shadow of the Parthenon and Acropolis is a popular store devoted to iconic imagery pooled from 1950’s America, Japanese anime, graphic novels and action films. I found the collage style window with perennial favorite Audrey Hepburn, Scooby-do and Frankenstein strangely merge into this whimsical pastiche to popular culture, and its integration into our collective consciousness, a random albeit reductive homage.
Greek Men’s Wear Stores:
In Greece, I found these stern, almost hostile looking men in a metallic finish that approximates gunmetal very strong candidates. Looking so agitated I half expected them to shout. Their bald heads, sallow cheeks and lips just parting very masculine and authoritative. I just adore them! Their eyes were piercing and direct, just beautifully executed. The figures were, edgy and sharp. Alas, the clothing was inferior.
Ode to a Grecian Urn:
For centuries, Greece was renowned for its pottery. In 1820 Keats’ famous ode “Beauty is truth, truth beauty that is all ye know on earth, and all ye need to know.” was part of every school curriculum throughout the world. The major museums of the world still vie for fragments of the coveted ceramics. For several millenniums, pottery was one of Greece’s chief exports. Today, Greece has less than seven pottery factories on all its contiguous islands. Most of those factories press out inferior reproductions. Almost all the pottery anyone purchases in Greece is more likely made in China. One notable exception is a family factory in Lindos where quality pieces are still produced. The factory showroom is about two centuries old and merchandised today that way it was in Keats’s day. I note that there is an academic text inadvertantly left on a selling self. Brilliant! I would love to know what my salespeople are currently reading.
Mustache's and Men: I fell in love with these ugly head forms of mustached men. The handlebar mustaches are still worn by men of a certain generation. It is very much a part of the Greek character. At first, I thought it a throwback to a stereotype. Except that t the owner of this store looks like he could have posed for the head. It's greusomely georgous.
Tacky Vs. Camp:
Understanding the difference between high art and low art makes shopping at tacky shops all the more a guilty pleasure. Understanding the distinction between what is “tacky” and what is “camp” is subtle, “The hallmark of ‘camp’ is the spirit of extravagance.” Susan Sontag. There is no pretense. Tacky as the genuine made in China Southwest dreamcatchers featuring Comanche Chiefs were just kitsch. With space being a valuable commodity, this particular store uses every available inch to merchandise and sign, including the stair treads. I also adored the oddly shaped mannequin outside the shop. While I am not a proponent, of the comic style of mannequins I did find this particular female fun, and it did draw me into the store.
Greek Uniform Company:
Just like America’s poor and rural, oppressed by a stagnant economy and precious little way to improve one’s immediate circumstances. Greeks enter into the Military services to obtain upper education, technical training and travel outside their country. In downtown Piraeus, (Port of Athens) there is a large uniform store, the mannequins are patriotic.
On The Rhodes Again, or Waiting for Godot:
I seldom photograph people, mannequins are my medium, but found this shop owner framed by an Islamic inspired doorway irresistible. He stood there without moving for what seemed an eternity, unraveling from the daily routine. One could almost hear his internal monologue, the connection of a man to his environment, played out generationally. Imprinted into the DNA of life. I am quite certain that if I was traveling down this same street ten centuries ago, the same passive activity was being played out by his ancestor. It is reassuring to know that behavior does not change.
Athens, it’s a Riot:
Athens in early December was a powder keg; student and public dissent erupted in to several nights of violent confrontation between protesters and police. Progressively escalating, several nights into the protests a young boy, 15 years of age was shot by a police officer. Proud Greeks who historically have been invaded many times over are inured to violence, and sensitized to the notion that we defend ourselves, but do not kill our own. Therefore, when a Greek officer shot an unarmed citizen, all hell broke loose. While the protesters were angry with the government, their hostilities were channeled towards merchants, a safe target, as stores were closed. Windows were broken, looting was practiced, and then fires were set, cars remaining on the street were overturned. The violence was so widespread that there were simply inadequate police and firefighters available. The downtown area was besieged for several nights, banks, clothing stores, restaurants, all sacrificed, no business was spared. The wasteful violence only fueled the discontent. Businesses that were long-standing, beloved, responsible citizens, often on the side of the students were destroyed.
When In Rome:
In the US the name of Nike is among the best-known sports name brands. Yet we seldom stop to ponder where the name was derived. Greek mythology, that subject you studied in high school wondering what relevance it had to “real life” would have provided this answer. The story of Nike the goddess of strength speed and victory (pronounced knee-key) are second nature to most Greeks. In Rome, British designer, Stella McCartney, is shown on a mannequin imported from China, wearing (German) Adidas, and Nike (Greek goddesses) manufactured in China, India and Pakistan.
Monaco Pretty You & Conspicuous Consumption:
The beauty of Monte Carlo in Monaco is fascinating. It is December and the retailer “Pretty You” is offering an ermine and Swarovski crystal bikini, with demi-cape on a chrome-plated torso that could be sterling silver. The merchandise is not superfluous, it is sold and worn. Immune from the financial foibles of the world, other retailers like Gianfranco Ferre, Louis Vuitton, Prada, Dior, etc do not fret over the poor economy, such debates and discussions are considered rude in their shops.
Turkish Men’s Wear Stores:
Turkish men are very proud of the jet-black hair, curly and mane like; they have bushy eyebrows and maintain a three-day stubble for days on end. They do not shave at home daily by rule, but instead have their barbers attend to their follicles. The mannequins are rigged to incorporate the unkempt tresses. Every mannequin I saw had it's wig start just above the eyebrows. They are forheadless. In a primarily Muslim practicing community, the mannequins like the men are sort of inspired by Euro trash, glam, bare chested, disco divas. Their shirts are open to their navels, They wear Muslim Rosary beads with their low rise distressed jeans. What Mohamad would make of it can only be surmised.
The Flying Carpet Ride:
While in Turkey, I was approached a dozen times within a few minutes from men in the bazaar selling hand woven carpets, with promises of great buys. I am not your usual tourist. I have several spinning wheels and can work a four-harness loom. I know the difference between cashmere and wool, and wool and acrylic. I can also tell the difference between something hand made and machine made. Many a salesman in the bazaar was shamed to pity. One relentless salesman not to be upbraided by an American offered me a flying carpet. The expression on my face said it all, thus he went into a back room and brought out a 4’ by 6’ and flung it across the room like a discus. Thinking he had made a sale I took off my coat and flung it across the room like a Frisbee and asked if he wanted to swap his 600 Euro flying carpet for my 60 Euro flying jacket. I went home with my coat and dignity.
It’s Bazaar at the Nut & Fig Market:
I love spice shops, lavenderies and specialties stores. One such shop I stopped as they had a beautiful selection of dates, nuts, and figs. Sold in burlap bags, and dotted with hand written signs the merchandising concept has not changed in several centuries. Pistachios are so plentiful that you want to run your hands through it like sand. This particular shop in Greece was just like the shops in Turkey, Cyprus and Egypt, riddled by pigeons. They swarm everywhere, including the nut & fig market. At first glance it is quite prosaic, almost a romantic version of the past. The pigeons are not timid like NY Pigeons, they are almost domesticated. It's really quite charming, until you realize that dozens, hundreds and thousands of pigeons relieve themselves directly on the product. Grossly unsanitary, one seldom hears of any serious illness derived from ingesting the product. Shoppers are non-plussed. I note that on this same day reports from Ireland who has stringent state of the art health and safety precautions is recalling all the countries pork products despite its immaculate techno factories due to an outbreak of bacteria.
How to Merchandise a Miracle, the House of the Blessed Virgin:
Ephesus, Turkey was once a cosmopolitan city in Turkey, albeit 20 centuries ago. Many early Christians fleeing persecution emigrated there. It was sort of the equivalent of Miami Beach for anchient retirees. One inhabitant of note was the Blessed Virgin, Mary, who lived out her final days there. It is said she lived on the island for over sixty years. Considering the average life expectancy was 35 years old, it seems an extraordinary claim. I am not certain where Dan Brown (The DaVinci Code) comes down on its authenticity. Historians presume The Blessed Virgin was already in her early to early fifties when her son was crucified. Her home is very small, just two tiny stone rooms, adjacent to it is a Byzantine chapel built in her honor several centuries ago. While it is difficult to ascertain historical fact from fiction, the Catholic Church recognizes the site as a valid holy site. If not for the extraordinary biblical story, the site is actually not that interesting. What is extraordinary is how the economy of Ephesus is centered on the merchandising of the death of the Blessed Virgin. To get to the humble site one must pass through slews of souvenir shops, one tackier than the next. Plaster Pieta’s, plaster Mary’s, plaster St. Josephs, plastic crèches, rosary beads in every conceivable color, if you’re you need to coordinate your prayers to your outfits, there are ashtrays with Pope Benedict and even “Little Angel” collectibles that say “I wuv Ephesus”.
