15 years ago to buy shoes I most likely would have physically walked into a store, browsed a couple dozen in-season items, selected a pair, paid, and walked out. The shelves would have had their items retired after a short while to be refreshed with newer, evolutionarily-tweaked models (that still wouldn't help me dunk), and while my credit card company might have known where I made a purchase they certainly would have been ignorant to the model bought. Even retailers with loyalty programs wouldn't have a complete picture of my habits, as I would simply choose the store nearest me, regardless of ownership (I'm mercenary like that).
It's no secret shopping online helps sellers open their entire warehouses for business (this is not the space to rehash yet again the ever-hallowed panacea of the "long tail"), nor that it makes the rigorous and complete tracking of purchases not just trivial but necessary for customer service and order fulfillment.
Now, though, I'm personally starting to see some unexpected ramifications. As I've only bought shoes from Zappos.com since June of 2004, I'm able to instantly review every single pair I've purchased and worn for the past four years (pictured above, from left to right in reverse-chronological order - it seems, shockingly, I'm partial to dark brown and black low-top sneakers). Furthermore, because of Zappos' comically-large inventory most of them are still in stock and available for purchase. Given how lazy I am when it comes to shopping the weight of my own personal shoe-buying history has become positively crushing: whatever interest I might have had in experimenting is dwarfed by the temptation to simply re-order a trusted old favorite.
People complain all the time about a preferred item being discontinued by its manufacturer or retailer. Sometimes passionate consumer letter-writing campaigns (which seem vaguely quaint now) reverse the decision, but more often not. Now, however, we could be facing a situation where the sales lifespan of certain goods (excluding, e.g., perishable items, rapidly-improving technology, and fashion trends) is increasing by an order of magnitude while the act of re-stocking is simply becoming a couple of mouse clicks.
All of which is to say an era is now dawning wherein I can logically justify why I hate and blame the internet for making my life one big Groundhog Day rut. Let's keep it up, people.
We got several hundred applications to Seedcamp and I thought it would be cool to tease out some macroscopic patterns. Of course when you're assembling what are by definition the lowest common denominators into a amoebic word jumble the result is naturally going to seem a bit cliché, but at least it's still pretty to look at.
That the style looks like a throwback to Catch Me If You Can and The Incredibles is no coincidence - I've been plowing through season one of Mad Men, and the fact that the most popular answer to "how will you make money?" was "advertising" made the connection inescapable.
Feel free to turn the words into arrangeable magnets so you can wake up after your next party and find an investment-worthy business plan on your refrigerator door.
In the continuing tradition there is an August mix over at (merlin)morland-muxtape. Plus: this totally rad photograph of a rainbow out my window (SPECTRAL DIFFUSION REPRESENT).
Human Highway - The Sound
Oxford Collapse - Children's Crusade
Icy Demons - Miami Ice
Santogold - I'm A Lady (Diplo Mix Ft Amanda Blank)
Titus Andronicus - Upon Viewing Brueghel's Landscape With The Fall Of Icarus
Diet Cola - Wicked Witch Of The Northeast
A Place To Bury Strangers - The Falling Sun
The Ruby Suns - There Are Birds
The Lines - Barbican
The Sadies - Never Again
The Walkmen - Canadian Girl
The Berg Sans Nipple - Along The Quai
I'm going to be boring and leave it at that. Don't hate.
