Times Online
Is M&S and its Autograph line fashionable?
Critics harp, sales dip - but if Marks & Spencer's remit is to provide something for everyone, then it is doing its job
Lisa Armstrong
When Sir Stuart (then plain old Stuart) Rose joined Your M&S (then plain old Marks & Spencer) in 2004, he promised to honour its stated aims of having something for everyone - a mission that many thought hopelessly outmoded. He also gave a commitment to the business of five years.
There must have been times when he wished he hadn't. His first two years - though this tends to be overlooked now - were anything but smooth. Even his son's girlfriends complained that the lingerie was old-fashioned.
Then things started to go right. He hired Stephen Sharp to sex up the advertising and Kate Bostock to haul womenswear (and those pointy 1950s bras) into the 21st century. Sharp's appointment was key: some analysts believe that M&S's endlessly lauded rebirth was as much an act of rebranding as of product transformation. Sharp was behind the new typeface. He signed up Twiggy and Laura Bailey, then Erin O'Connor, then Noémie Lenoir, Lizzie Jagger, Myleene Klass and, finally, Lily Cole, until M&S had its very own pan-generational rainbow nation. He spent £25 million a year on advertising and it worked. Meanwhile, Bostock, with Next and Asda behind her, put on a succession of shows that eventually convinced the fashion press that M&S was back on track.
Of course, we celebrated. Lazarus had been raised; a national institution, complete with updated traditional values, rescued.
Then came those recent figures. In the six months to the end of January 2008, its womenswear business shrank by 14 per cent year on year: a bad omen in the volatile world of womens' clothing.
M&S has become not just a talisman of the confident British economy but a symbol of the kind of country that we'd like to be - one in which organic tenderloin of beef, rather than a Big Mac, is the national dish, and where environmental and ethical issues are more important than snaring a whole outfit for under a tenner. The clothes may no longer be made in Britain, but they are produced in factories where the working conditions are exemplary - a clever and realistic switch of emphasis.
If M&S is having a hard time, then what hope the rest of the high street? This is how Sir Stuart sold the downturn and, mostly, analysts agree. This is not a great time to be in fashion retail. Zara, the fashionistas' favourite, is struggling to make a profit in the UK. Gap, another fashion favourite, is seeing flat sales. Jigsaw, currently beloved by fashion editors, is also having it tough, while Kew, its cheaper stablemate, operates in the red. The shares of Next, the other high street giant, have fallen by 34 per cent, making it one of the FTSE 100's biggest casualties. February, analysts mordantly noted, “was a graveyard for the high street”.
The M&S management inclines towards Sir Stuart's view, having just anointed him executive chairman, extended his tenure until 2011 and appointed Kate Bostock to the board (she is hotly tipped to become the company's first female chief executive at some point). Ian Dyson takes over day-to-day running of the finances, which frees Sir Stuart to “focus on the bigger picture”. We can take this as a vote of confidence.
Is the management right? Last week I visited two branches of M&S, the Marble Arch flagship and, less than a mile away, the far less salubrious Edgware Road store. As usual, my reactions lurched from favourable to unfavourable every few feet.
Despite a facelift, the bland Marble Arch store is hardly a glamorous environment, even compared with Gap's utilitarian wooden floors and white walls. It will seem like a poor relation when Banana Republic (competing with M&S's Autograph collection) opens its 17,000 glossy square feet on Regent Street next week. Then there are the miles of uninspiring “value” knits in slightly the wrong shade, and the garish swimwear at the entrance. Lordy, you have to be devoted to the M&S cause to persevere - or to have seen something irresistible on a fashion page. Then you have to track it down, which is easier than it once was but still no task for the faint-hearted.
The trousers on the first floor are photographed on women wearing dreadfully sensible shoes - not a look to set the heart racing or the wallet ripping itself open. Suffice to say that M&S footwear won't be giving Manolo, Christian or even L.K. Bennett sleepless nights, though I did like the jewelled, Prada-esque patent pumps at £19.50.
My first sensation on walking into M&S was that I'd wandered into Littlewoods by mistake. There was no sign of all the brilliant items that Kate Bostock produces for press days. Then I started to spot them - the gems that just about make the expedition into greige interiors and oh-so-bland plastic-hanger-land worthwhile. The Autograph Weekend white cotton “safari” peacoat, a slick fit at £49.50; a lovely white pin-tucked cotton shirtdress hanging forlornly on the second floor, reduced from £25 to £9; a brilliant anthracite nylon parka (as seen on Lily Cole) at £59.50; the Limited Collection black kimono-sleeve top, £19.50; a very chic navy A-line jacket from Autograph, £49.50. Even the once to-be-avoided Per Una line offered a good cream trench with tortoiseshell buttons for £69.50. A £29.50 “With Silk” slouchy blouson T-shirt in drab olive or cream was not only stylish but very fairly described, with silk accounting for 56 per cent of its total yarn content.
The sailor pants that I tried on were a disaster - why place pockets precisely where they are guaranteed to make thighs look like a set of 4x4 tyres? But a black slouchy cotton pair were very good, and remarkable value at £19.50. In the name of duty I also tried on a T-shirt, the litmus test of all fashion houses. M&S's Limited one, “modal rich” (ie, stretchy) was a good shape and a fantastic price, but when I shrugged, its shoulders looked as though they might stay raised long after mine had returned to base. Still, for £9.50 I'd give it a go.
The underwear is hugely improved. I can't vouch for the lacy stuff, as I don't like scratchy, pointless tufts of nylon ruining the line of my clothes. But the Body Basics range of plain, moulded “cotton rich” (all these euphemisms become a bit trying) bras are excellent, except that, if I'm being fussy, I found some of the colours off-putting. A two-pack for £15 is terrific value, but the beige was more camel than flesh-coloured - and why package it with a white bra when most women know that white bras are about as discreet under a fine T-shirt or semi-sheer top as Katie Price at an Opus Dei convention? And why stitch a silly little metal coin-thing on an otherwise simple dusky pink bra from the Body Basics range? The first thing I'd do is snip it off.
The knickers, though, are utterly brilliant. A month or so earlier I'd visited the lingerie department with my two teenage daughters (who would far rather have been in the Kylie Minogue section at Selfridges). I'd expected terrible queues but we breezed in and were expertly served by an extremely knowledgeable fitter who found half a dozen bras that failed to register on the teenage scorn-ometer. I also managed to find them some cute flat-patent Mary Janes that were a cut above other cheap ranges and had a strap to stop the dreaded claw foot that so many teenage girls seem to be developing, thanks to their love of ballet shoes. For finding my girls a fashion shoe that we all liked, I love M&S. I also applaud its sorties into ethical clothing and make-up, and its Look Behind the Label campaign.
Thing is, all the items I picked out for myself were classic rather than high-fashion. And although they were all good, I didn't buy them because I own versions of them already. The Edgware Road store was grim, by the way - so untidy as to make 1994 Sarajevo look like Zurich. There was some nice underwear but in random sizes, and the only other noteworthy item was a good version of the YSL Downtown bag at an un-YSL-ish £29.50.
What I need to get me spending is something frivolous and wonderful - which I found the moment I crossed Oxford Street into Zara and stumbled on some high mock-croc gladiator sandals that will rev up all my classics. At £59 they were more than M&S would dare to charge but cheap compared with designers and, all things considered, brilliant. So although I'm hardly the most outré fashionista on the block, perhaps M&S's “fashion” offer isn't really for me, or the thousands of women like me. I will be looking in regularly at the underwear from now on, though, so perhaps Sir Stuart's initial promise of something for everyone has been fulfilled.
As for clothes, in providing for the millions of women who find Zara and its rivals too fashionable, too skimpy, too teeming with the under-30s, I'd say that M&S's key branches are doing a pretty good job. Despite the current downturn, it still has 13.6 per cent of the market. But maybe it does itself a disservice when it puts on such enticing fashion shows for the press, fostering the impression that it's a high-fashion brand when really it is supplying basics to Everywoman. It's one thing to be “expectation-rich”, but raise expectations too high and you risk the wrath of the disappointed shopper - whose fury, as we have seen before, knows no bounds.
Twentysomething
You'd think that a clothes store in an area full of young professionals would stock up on trendier lines. Not the M&S at Angel, Islington, in North London. The womenswear floor is tiny and the stock appeals most to women seeking durability.
Not much catches my eye. It's all boring denim shirts, high-neck T-shirts and the kind of shapeless Eighties-style jeans that make everyone's bum look big. I begrudgingly take a pair of smart black trousers (£39.50) and T-shirt (£5) into the changing rooms. I also spot a nice pair of beige high-waisted trousers (£35).
Sadly, both pairs are a bad fit, the pockets bunching immediately, and the moment I put on the T-shirt I feel decades older. The leg width of the high-waisted cotton casuals is clown-like.
Have I missed anything? Unless I'm after pyjamas or gym-wear, it's just more of the same: block colour, little originality. I leave with nothing. I'd feel misled if I'd gone into M&S expecting to come out looking like Twiggy, only to emerge looking like Pauline Fowler.
Francesca Steele
Thirtysomething
I am secretly rather proud of my ability to unearth a “find”, so I was confident that I would walk out of the King's Road branch of M&S with a carrier bag or two. I was disappointed: a sea of mustard yellows, lime greens and dirty oranges mingled with unflattering swirls and stripes in all directions. It took three laps, my standards lowering with each, to find something that I didn't dislike. If I spotted something nice, either the fabric was too shiny or the size too big (the only assistant was nearly asleep).
Simplicity was the best bet. I went for a cream cropped jacket (£59) but the polyester lining made it neither warm nor comfortable.A white trench that looked fine on the mannequin had gold zips that demeaned its classic cut - and it was £49.50: I'd seen a nicer version at H&M for £10. So I picked out a grey cashmere mix jumper (£49.50), an olive mix knee-length cardigan (£39.50), and a white T-shirt (£9.50), and headed for the changing rooms. The jumper was dull, the cardigan scratchy, the T-shirt OK. But by then I was desperate.
Sacha Bonsor
Fortysomething
The Marks & Spencer in Kensington High Street has lots of rich people living near by - which makes the store's lack of gloss a puzzle. On a recent Saturday lunchtime, it was only mildly busy. I made straight for the Limited Collection and picked out a grey and beige print tunic (£29.50) to wear with summer trousers, including a pale wide-legged grey pair (£39.50) from the Autograph Weekend range. I skirted by Per Una (fussy and droopy), making for Autograph. Here the nicest things included the short beige trench (£89.50) and the black shift (£79). The jeans did not fit well, but finding jeans is always tough.
I don't expect any one retailer to deliver everything I want to wear, but M&S manages to do more than most. Further proof of this came some days later in the Victoria Street store, where I found a pair of this season's chunky-heeled black patent shoes (£19.50), plus a Donna Karan-like jersey dress reduced to £7 for a pregnant colleague. All this and Plan A, Marks's eco and ethical strategy. Are we being served? Yes.
Anne Ashworth
Fiftysomething
The trouble with M&S is that it has to be so many things to so many people, so you don't get a single, strong vision. You get comfy trousers for plump customers. You get anoraks for dog-walkers, sensible jackets for office workers, and cheap children's clothes. But look in the right places (mostly the Limited Collection) and you'll nearly always find wearable and well-priced versions of the current trends. Take this week. I loved the white shirt with the huge sleeves (£29.50) that caught the eye of Vogue. Then there was a deliciously pretty blue-and-pink-flowered printed silk dress, a gorgeous deep-blue linen top with a beige crocheted yoke for £25, and a brilliant slightly shiny grey parka for £59.50. There's a slinky black jersey dress for £25 that would do for almost any occasion, and a more wearable version of Roland Mouret's Galaxy dress - again just £25.
Its cashmere is fantastic value and it has blouses, shirts and tops of every hue, shape and size - some would fit happily into the smartest wardrobes, others miss by a mile. But there are great buys to be had.
Lucia van der Post