His methods are unorthodox – and, by his own admission, far from scientific. But to Alan Millstein, asking a mother dragging two children and two shopping bags, ““Do you plan to spend more or less on Christmas this year?’’ can reveal more about Christmas sales trends than hours of number crunching. This year, the Millstein monitor is forecasting a relatively jolly holiday at the registers – more confident consumers contributing to a 6 to 7 percent rise in sales. But as the nattily dressed guru found on his whirlwind tour of the world’s largest department store, extracting that money from consumers’ pockets will put retailers to the test.
Outside the entrance, with the aroma of hot pretzels wafting by, Millstein is already smelling one of the prevailing trends in holiday retailing: early discounting. An ad in Sunday’s paper touts a special ““two-day’’ sale, and Millstein’s survey shows why the store seems desperate to move merchandise. While shoppers tell him they’re primed to buy, few are willing to part with much cash so early in the season. ““The prices aren’t low enough,’’ says one middle-aged mother. Another woman exits emptyhanded, vowing to visit discounters before buying: ““I’m going to wait until closer to Christmas.’’ During the busy lunch hour, only one out of every three shoppers emerges with some kind of merchandise in hand. For a healthy Christmas season, that number needs to be closer to two out of three, Millstein says. ““It shows that people are just browsing. It’s a slow-starting season.''
Inside the store, Millstein zips through the cosmetics department and heads to menswear. There, sale signs promote neckties (30 percent off) and underwear (a 25 percent discount). Across the way in the Arcade, a strip of specialty concessions designed to encourage impulse buying, Peter Max T shirts and Notre Dame sweat shirts are marked down as much as 40 percent. Millstein hops the escalator up to women’s sportswear, where he points out sale racks of unsold sweaters with wintery designs. Nearby, he spies a come-on even he’s never seen before: atop a sign offering 40 percent off a pair of $48 velour tights, another sign promises ““an additional 30 percent off.’’ Yet there’s no frenzied crowd picking over this bargain-basement display. Customers have become conditioned to wait longer and hope for better deals, says Millstein. ““It’s a cat-and-mouse game, and retailers have no one to blame but themselves.''
As Millstein strides into housewares, shopper Margot Cole plants herself in his path with a determined look on her face. Mistaking him for a store manager, she demands a credit for a Braun coffee maker she bought at the ““sale’’ price of $99.99 two weeks ago. Now, the same machine is going for $89.99, and Macy’s is throwing in a free coffee grinder, too. ““Don’t have two sales in one month,’’ she insists. ““I’m sorry, I don’t work here,’’ Millstein apologizes, pointing her toward the service counter. He sympathizes with her complaint. ““Mrs. Cole is a textbook study of everything that’s wrong with retailing today,’’ he says. ““There’s no credibility because of price confusion.''
Credibility, it seems, is at the discount stores. In Macy’s near-empty toy department, where the biggest attraction is a colorized version of the movie ““Miracle on 34th Street’’ playing on a TV set, the prospects for Christmas 1994 look rather grim. ““Everybody’s across the street at Toys ““R’’ Us,’’ Millstein guesses. He expects they’ll eventually find their way to the department stores, but not until very late in the season. Until then, he says, ““managers will be sipping on Maalox cocktails.’’ And praying that Kris Kringle really does exist.
