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There's 150% more shoes on the floor than previously, 50% more seating, 50% more selling space, 75% more stockroom capacity and, last but not least, 50% more cash registers.
"We believe it's such a big move for us it deserves its own zip code," Saks spokeswoman Lesley Langsam Kennedy told the shoe media. "We wanted to make it a destination."
Well, it's certainly that. Make your way through Saks' chaotic ground-floor cosmetics hall to the bank of elevators and you'll find the Express Lift to 10022-SHOE. "Don't get in that unless all you want to see is shoes," says a woman - obviously not a shoe person - on her way out.
The elevator doors open on Eight and it is, as promised, wall to wall shoes: 17,500 square feet of them to be exact, with 9,000 square feet of that devoted to stock; you're not going to be told they don't have your size.
Shoes have a big impact on Saks' bottom line and the congested old shoe department wasn't allowing the store to deliver the level of service it felt was needed. Now, entire collections are on display in the meandering space, which is designed to be a journey of discovery for shoe shoppers.
The modern new interior is all glass bubbles [a 70-foot long wall of them], silver tiles and curved settees of plush purple velvet and white leather. The shoes are presented on white glass, antique mirror, limestone, white Carrera marble and wood. Except for the trays of chocolates being passed around, the atmosphere is more stock exchange than salon. Most of the sales assistants are men and they're wearing suits. They're all on commission so you're getting a lot of attention as you browse - the pressure to buy from the 50-strong designer line-up is strong.
Perhaps Madame will take the black and white Chanel rain boots? Or the Gucci stilettos with towering six inch gold heels; the alligator-skin driving shoes; the Marc Jacobs jelly flats; or the traffic-stopping Christian Louboutin black patent leather pumps with fire engine red soles. There's matt, shiny, high, low, exquisite and absurd. The average price is $US500-$US600 but many are north of that.
And if anything wears out on your $US800 Manolo Blahnik's you'll be able to bring them to the Saks cobbler, which is said to be the first of its kind. While you wait, you'll be able to relax in a special chocolate cafe, Charbonnel et Walker. And for the uber-customer, not unlike the woman with a rope of pearls the size of Kool Mints around her neck, trying on countless pairs of classic ballet flats in the Chanel boutique, there are VIP rooms.
Seven other department stores with floors devoted to shoes are located a short walk or cab ride from Saks but the killer competition comes from Barneys, the pre-eminent shop for Manhattan's fashionistas, particularly when it comes to shoes. It's more exclusive, less mainstream, has more edge, and spots trends and up-and-coming designers before everybody else. Sex and the City's girl about town Carrie Bradshaw knew a thing or two about style and she shopped for shoes there. Right now it's selling platforms, sling backs, clogs, jellys, wedges, flats, boots, stilettos and every variation of Mary Jane imaginable, in fishnet, satin, velvet, leather, lace, silver, gold, graffiti-print, rhinestones, mesh, metallic snakeskin, woven leather, knit, suede, patent, python, pony, glitter, crystals, leopard and eel skin.
At Barneys, where the motto is "Taste. Luxury. Humour.", it's all trust fund teens with platinum plastic, and descendents of Tom Wolfe's social x-rays with Hermes Kelly bags for every day of the week and the accessory du jour: a black Hummer idling outside on Madison Avenue.
And it's just as well she's got a ride because she'd probably break her neck walking any distance in the thigh-high Christian Louboutin boots she's just shelled out $US1790 for. Plus tax.
By Carolyn Ford |
