I was loyal to David Jones. If only they’d been loyal to me

When David Jones entered voluntary administration, I felt a sadness I hadn’t expected. I’ve shopped there for more than 30 years, so the possibility of losing it felt personal. Yet for the past couple of years, I’ve walked through its stores ready to buy and left empty-handed. That’s the contradiction I can’t shake. How does a retailer with 188 years of history end up here while customers like me are still trying to hand it our money?

I am in my 50s. I want contemporary clothes and beautiful shoes. I have no interest in dressing as though my best years are behind me. But increasingly, I walk through the fashion floors and feel as though the store is looking past me, towards a younger woman it would rather attract.

Meanwhile, I am the customer still walking in. I am the one choosing David Jones when I could buy the same thing elsewhere. Yet the more I look, the more I wonder why so little of what it stocks seems chosen with me in mind.

The premium fit-outs look beautiful. But the more polished the store becomes, the harder I find it to see where I belong in it. And the designer labels alone no longer give shoppers a reason to walk in. Once, David Jones gave me access to labels that were hard to find elsewhere. Now many brands have their own boutiques, often in the same shopping centre, with wider ranges available online too. Why buy a designer shoe at David Jones when the brand’s own store, just outside its doors, has more choice?

For me, the answer has always been trust.

David Jones is still my first choice. Even when I find something in a brand’s boutique, I will often go back and purchase it from DJs because I have confidence that if something goes wrong, it will stand behind the sale. That confidence is an extraordinary asset. But I wonder whether David Jones assumed younger shoppers shared the loyalty of longstanding customers like me.

I asked 10 people I know, all under 45, whether they shopped the same way. None did. They generally started online, went directly to the brand and visited its store if necessary. David Jones barely entered the conversation. Ten people is hardly market research. But their answers made me wonder whether DJs was courting customers who had already learnt to shop without it, while overlooking those still walking through its doors.

Since COVID-19, my shopping habits have changed too. I now make most of my David Jones purchases online, and many of my store visits involve returning something. But I still browse, and sometimes I want to see and touch what I’m buying before I commit.

A couple of staff members told me that, on some days they handle more returns than purchases. That is anecdotal and returns are part of online retail. It does, however, raise a question: what should those expensive floors now deliver that a website cannot?

If more buying happens online, each store needs to give us a reason to stay and shop. That makes me question whether David Jones needs 38 locations. I would rather see fewer exceptional stores, anchored by flagships worth making a trip to. Individual store economics must determine that decision. But shouldn’t the ambition be to make David Jones a destination again?

I know from running cafes how punishing business costs can be. But difficult conditions do not remove leadership’s responsibility to understand the customer. From what I can see, successive owners and management teams failed to make David Jones sufficiently distinctive as shopping habits changed around it. Stocking desirable brands was no longer enough when those brands could reach shoppers themselves.

I hope the administrators and receivers can secure its future. Jobs and suppliers’ livelihoods are at stake, alongside landmarks that hold a place in Australian life. For generations, a trip to the flagship store was an occasion in itself. Losing that would leave a hole that another shopfront could not simply fill.

But saving David Jones requires more than preserving its name or polishing its stores. It requires understanding why someone would choose to shop there today. I still want to be that customer. For years, I have been waiting for David Jones to give me a reason.

Mina Iacono is a writer, essayist and author. She has spent more than 20 years building hospitality businesses and is the founder of AI platform hospoFOUND.

Get a weekly wrap of views that will challenge, champion and inform your own. Sign up for our Opinion newsletter.