Thoughts on selling
I used to do pop ups, lots of them. I’d pack tutus, racks, hangers, banners, and contact cards into bins and boxes, and then rent a truck to bring all of the stuff. Pop ups were usually held in busy places: major malls, crowded markets, city centres. Driving a truck into these places were tricky, and unloading all of the stuff was difficult.
At first it was struggle: moving bins and things one by one, forgetting things at home, leaving things behind. And then it all turned methodical. From fifteen bins of tutus, it came down to just three. Racks were put up quickly and taken down smoothly. For three years, pop ups became a favourite weekend activity. Our daughter got to know Pottery Barn pretty well, spending many Saturdays testing beds, hiding behind curtains, and playing with dollhouses while she waited.
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But that very first pop up was gruelling. I stood in the middle of a huge baby show awkwardly, not sure what to do. People were not flocking to my setup as planned. Some glanced and kept walking. Some were kind enough to stop, and then left with a smile. At the end of that pop up, I sold exactly $0. Looking back, the setup was there and the doors were open, but I’m not sure I gave anyone a reason to stay.
In accounting school, nobody said starting a business would mean packing boxes, driving a truck, or passing out contact cards to strangers. I didn’t think I’d need the right pitch to earn a minute of someone’s time. I pictured myself in a suit, looking professional, and giving expert advice. I thought clients would flock to me. And I didn’t think to ask for a sale, whether it was for a $30 tutu or a $30,000 engagement.
I made my very first sale after that pop up. It was to a new mom who had meant to buy from our pop up, but her baby made a fuss so she left. She emailed afterwards to see if Bluish had an online store. It didn’t. So I built one the next day to make the sale.
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Bluish turned seven this year. At this age, if Bluish had a face, soft lines would start to show. No more pop ups. It was a decision I made before the pandemic, to focus our efforts online and to spend weekends with my kids.
In accounting school, they don’t leave things to chance. Maybe they’re right, chance isn’t something we can account for: a chance to the next big thing, a chance to flop, and like that time I met the admirable Ms. Heather Reisman at our pop up.