Virtually every sector in retail has gone through some sort of revolution that has improved the service experience for customers and brands alike - so why not the good old newsagent?
On a recent flight from London to New York I played a little game to kill off those last tedious hours that drag out over the southern shores of Greenland. Putting pen to sick bag, I decided to face up to my sole addiction and attempted to calculate the total amount I'd spent on my habit over the course of three decades. Estimating an average spend of €180 a month for the past 33 years, I came up with the not insubstantial sum of €59,400. For some that could have been a handsome down-payment on a flat in a bourgeois suburb of Hamburg. It could have put a sporty little Audi in someone's garage. It could have paid for an MBA. Or, as in my case, it helped pay the people who harvest the trees, the men who roll the papers and the boys and girls who beckon you back for more. Many people boast about being magazine junkies but real addicts are not just consumers - they're dealers, pushers, pimps and growers. I'm all of these and then some.
I'm convinced addictive behaviour runs in the family because my mother is the same as me, although my condition is arguably more acute. She introduced me to magazines while I was still in her womb. The gentle flicking of glossy pages is one of the most comforting, familiar sounds I know. I think it's because I listened intently for nine months while pages of Vogue and Glamour brushed across her belly - wondering what exactly was going on outside.
Growing up in Canada, I rarely had babysitters or minders, just newsstands. From the age of three my mother could park in front of a kiosk and go off to run her errands while I flicked through comics, nature magazines and anything to do with trains. Far from being irresponsible, my mother knew no amount of candy from even the most wily pervert could pull me away from a wall of print.
For as long as I can remember I've been surrounded by magazines from all over the world and few places make me happier than a bountiful newsstand. Wandering home after work it's a place to stock up for an evening on the sofa with companions who never fail to inform, always inspire and rarely let you down. On a mad dash to gate 52 at Heathrow terminal one it's a refuelling centre to catch up on all one's missed during a week deskbound at the office.
Given the choice between a good bookshop and bountiful newsstand, the latter will win out every time. I'll take Casa News over Rizzoli in New York or the Double Bay Newsagency over Lesley McKay in Sydney any day. A kiosk is immediate, a little gritty, always international and bursting with inspiration. It's areason to move to a certain neighbourhood, the perfect start to a day, an essential service. It's for this reason that the newsstand also needs to change.
Where other retail sectors have seen massive change and virtually no single bar, restaurant, hotel or fashion retailer hasn't undergone an overhaul at the hands of some established or emerging architect, the same cannot be said for the dear old newsstand. In the UK the magazine-addicted can still find good independent retailers but they tend be a wholly unpleasant place to spend any time. Some might argue that this is because the retailer wants to deter browsers but I think the more pleasant the shopping experience, the more you'll spend.
At the other end of the market, large chains such as WH Smith are bland, over-lit, poorly stocked spaces catering to everyone and no one. The range of periodicals is predictable at best and completely uninspired. A serious magazine addict will never comb the stand of a WH Smith andbe surprised by a challenging independent title or be confronted by something exotic from foreign shores.
In Switzerland, Kiosk has just undergone a dramatic facelift that has seen its signature red and white logo replaced by an insipid red, white and largely sky blue identity. For a "just launched" concept from a country famous for good print, the effort falls into the category dubbed "lame".
Every night, across every continent, publishers big and small toil to get their images on page, their prose just so and their sections off to press. Sadly, these beautifully bound editions find few suitable homes to be displayed and ultimately sold.
The United States presents one of the most depressing scenarios of all. With greater consolidation among printers, more power resting in the hands of big retailers and greater pressure on the small businessman, the days of the bountiful newsstand look like they may not make it to the end of the decade. Big retailers only want to back volume titles or, worse, titles that promise to uphold good old family values. While there might be an explosion of media in other areas, distribution channels to magazines are under threat. It's for this reason that wily press barons and clever retailers should be spotting the opportunity and remedying the situation - now.
Just as grocery stores, branches of Zara and the lowly petrol station are all far more attractive places of commerce than they were five years ago, the same effort needs to be applied to keep print vital and pushing forward. With the right team of architects, graphic designers and retail talent, the kiosk shouldn't be a place where you pick up an attractive title to go with your Coke and crisps, it should be an around-the-clock hub that absorbs the best titles in the world, displays them in an alluring setting, suggests complementary titles to avid shoppers and offers incentives for people to buy more. Such an initiative can be launched regionally, nationally or globally but it must happen. If magazines are left in the hands of the incumbent retailers, the sector is in danger of losing relevance and failing to hook a whole new generation of addicts.
