Shopping month is back. Really. At least according to Khoury Home

February was shopping month.

When was that? Two decades ago? Two and some decades? Well, here it is, again, believe it or not. At least according to Khoury Home which is presenting some discounts under the auspices of "shopping month" - which of course brings the original shopping month jokes: You increase the prices, scratch them, and then get them back to the original price. So voila, no discounts but you pretend you did one.

I am not accusing Khoury Home of anything mind you. But seriously, it is interesting they brought back the concept... 

What Nescafe Gold says about Lebanon

Artwork by Tarek Chemaly as part of the "History of Lebanon" project

Nescafe Gold is missing from Lebanese market.

Nothing alarming, just another product to add to the list.

Panadol is missing from Lebanese market.

Nothing alarming, just another product to add to the list.

As per Executive Magazine:

"Since the start of 2020, the poverty rate has increased in Lebanon to an extent where the middle class is practically dissolving, and the lower class has been pushed further into poverty. According to Khalid Abu-Ismail, a Senior Economist at UN-ESCWA, and Vladimir Hlasny, an economic affairs officer at the UN-ESCWA, the moderate poverty head count in Lebanon is projected to have nearly doubled, and extreme poverty, to have tripled. According to the authors, to close the extreme poverty gap, would only require the richest 10% of the Lebanese to levy around 1% of their total assets toward a solidary fund."

The social solidarity thingy is of no interest, we all know it will not happen. A friend of mine who recently started working with an NGO was amazed, "Tarek, no one talks to anyone in these organizations, I though other organizations would share data with me, or would give me pointers. They seem me as a competition and a threat!" - and that is NGOs.

But to go back to Nescafe Gold, one of my very few indulgences I kept. Well, no more. I am, by hook or by crook, one of the remnants of the Middle Class in Lebanon. Growing up, as a family, we always hovered in that category, sometimes falling to its bottom, sometimes rising up higher (anyone who wishes to dumb this down, C- to C+). As time passed, and with all three children having thriving careers, we certainly went to B in terms of socio-economic classification.

Getting my money stuck at the bank was not part of the plan.

On the outside, the façade did not crack. I still dress nice (well, within my style!), but now avoid indulging in new items hanging to a core closet of items after giving away many in successive collects (to poor people, to people hit by the explosion in Beirut and so on). Like everyone else, I spent most of this year indoors. Which helped using the clothes less and keeping them intact. 

I live in a two-storey detached house, but certainly did not anticipate to do the major chantier which imposed itself this summer (sewage, heater, tree which was causing structural problems to be cut down, etc....). But again, am still holding strong. Whereas unsurprisingly work dwindled enormously this year, I resorted to the other best option: Cut down on spending.

Apart from Nescafe Gold that is.

Scratch that.

Kaslik, now a shadow of its former self.

Zara, Bershka, and Buffalo Wings and Rings are the three latest casualties to close shop on Kaslik street (Patchi, Zmilelee, Petit Cafe, Lord of the Wings and Massimo Dutti had started the macabre series earlier). Brands For Less is operating with minimal stock, while Glowbal - also an outlet store but more upscale - was one of the first stores to close early 2019. Legend, Straight, Viril/Virale, Stile, Studio X, and Masculin are still operating though all of them only have the Kaslik branch. H&M, Springfield and Sport Loisirs are also there, but till when is a different question.

Many will treat this with a casual what-else-is-new shrug. But Kaslik was at one point the most exuberant and priciest shopping streets in Lebanon. Sometime in the mid-90s celebrated Egyptian actress Sherihan dropped around 300,000 Dollars on one shopping spree there. But even as far back as the early aughts, there was a whiff of dwindling sales as Beirut, especially downtown Beirut, was gaining momentum.

Remember Via Spiga? Then Lebanon's most upscale store? Even in 2003, their sales manager said: “We used to sell products while they were still in the boxes, but now we have excess stock.” When discount store Akil Bros opened a store in Kaslik again in the mid-90s (akin to Tati opening in Place Vendome - Paris), the joke was that people would park their cars in front of upscale stores but shop at Akil instead. No wonder Akil is thriving today still, as the other stores close done by one.

However, it is fair to say that by now, Kaslik had lost its raison d'etre due to different geographical, political and socio-economic reasons. When Beirut got torn in half during the war and the souks obliterated due to shelling; the Eastern regions needed their own upscale area to compensate for Souk el Tawile which used to harbor: Al Ahram, Dix Mille Articles, Chaussures Elie and Venise Verte all selling shoes and bags for women, Hashem Shoes for men, Zahar and Semrani for children's clothing in addition to Alpha and Vita, respectively clothing for Men and women - all upscale and pricey stores of which some brands survive till today in various degrees of health and prosperity. 

Note that Kaslik is also often compared to Hamra which is only partially correct. Whereas Hamra housed Camomille, Red Shoe, Charles Jacob and Mylady; it also had a street Bazar as well. I was also told that Kaslik was playground for people with means from Tripoli. Back when Byblos and Batroun were still lackluster, and Beirut still half an hour of driving further, and still destroyed by the war.

With its proximity to the luxurious ATCL, to very high-end new buildings, to beach resorts (Portemilio, Samaya, and Solemar come to mind) where people loaded with money would stay or live, Kaslik was a perfect sample of where moneyed people would hang, shop and spend money. With Espace 2000 center  only a stone throw away with its famed night club, while the center was replete with a branch of The Chase restaurant, and Juicy Burger right opposite of it, just as Papagayo, Downtown, and La Creperie restaurants close by (bordering the street at both ends), and Options night club reigned Supreme on night life, Kaslik was the perfect microcosm of money-spending while enjoying the usual Lebanese exhibitionism for everyone to see where you shopped, ate or dropped your money.

The caricature of such people would end up at S.L.Chi the classic early 90s satire program on MTV (the local Murr TV) under the "Kas" people saying they bought their wares at "Francisco Puta" (ahem) as they smoked long cigars. I personally overheard a conversation long ago (in the late 80s) between two teenage girls, one describing a new swimsuit she acquired, only for the other to say "wait, I got the same one! I bought it for a beach party at our compound in Kaslik. But I managed to get it before the sales" (linguistic emphasis not mine).

But as L.P. Hartley said: “The past is a foreign country; they do things differently there.” And indeed, the past of Kaslik matters little to its present, its closed shops, or the dwindling footfall on those that remain open. The days of Via Spiga with Sherihan shopping with an open wallet are now gone. And for good.

A mood of Sunset Boulevard covers the street. A has been who still thinks it can pass off as star. To quote Ernest Heminway:

"How did you go bankrupt?" Bill asked. "Two ways," Mike said. "Gradually and then suddenly."

Same applies to Kaslik and Lebanon as a whole.

Second hand: Is there a paradigm shift in Lebanese shopping?

Artwork by Tarek Chemaly

Are the Lebanese finally changing their consumption habits? Signs are exposing cracks in that picture perfect way the Lebanese liked to portray themselves. A middle class that just spent four days in Turkey, got clothes there on the cheap, and eats at McDonald's while eyeing the new Zara collection as they drive in a Nissan they pay on monthly installments.

For several years, I used to dress exclusively from Souk El Ahad, or the low-income Sunday market (which actually was held on Saturday and Sunday hence the misnomer) - and where I would get second hand clothes. I usually went with a French friend, his girlfriend and his brother. It was really wonderful to get things at such discounted prices. Sometimes we would strike gold, like that Dries Van Noten shirt, and other times it was the thrill of discovery. When I moved from Beirut in September 2010, almost all the clothes in question were donated.

But to many, the idea of buying second hand was a total taboo. Which is why my praise for Depot Vente is still enormous, as Nawal showed everyone that second hand meant rarities, one of a kind, and things that fast fashion stores could not compete with (read here). Whereas not second hand, if you aim for deadstock material (which is not new either), you might want to check Vntg Smtng for their pristine stock of sporty goods (their Iril polos are to die for). But now, with Zara increasing its prices to match the black market price of the Dollar, with many such stores changing prices almost daily (read here), and others quitting the game entirely (Adidas is exiting the market at the end of the year), something has shifted deeply in the remnants of the Lebanese middle class.

The explosion of August 4 only made things worse in the sense that suddenly everyone, from all socio-economic classes were affected (read here). Garage Souk which dubs itself a community financial empowerment tool to buy/sell/earn/learn/swap/thrift has been gaining momentum. It is supposed to empower women and students and get them extra income. But not only this, thrift stores (more like pêle-mêle vide greniers) have been mushrooming all over Instagram with mostly girls and women selling barely worn items from their closets - mostly fast fashion clothing and accessories - at discounted prices. But even higher end online stores exist - some with physical footprints not just virtual accounts (Preporter Luxury, Chic Beirut, or Garage Luxe).

The idea of second hand, with current prices soaring and imports estimated to have declined 90%, previously owned items (barely worn, back when people would buy, show off, and discard) suddenly seem a viable option. Am not saying people will go to Souk El Ahad yet, but many taboos seem to have fallen.

Common sense would be popular in Lebanon - if it was imported

Artwork by Tarek Chemaly from the series "History of Lebanon"

Next to our house in Beirut (Achrafieh) in the 80s there was something called "Al Ma'amal" (the factory), which as the name indicated would manufacture and sell clothing. That place was not unique, I also remember Anitex and Jonitex and other such labels.

I reveal no secret that Lebanon is importing much more than it is exporting, making the economy dangerously lopsided. Here's a story: My nephews came today and said that a bag of chickpeas costs 4500 Liras today, when it was 3000 when the Dollar was back at 1500 liras (the current value of the Dollar is all over the place but let us estimate it at 4000 Liras), so they said that the hummus was now cheaper than it was even if it was more expensive. I probed them as to why? They constructed the answer and discovered that it was because it was "made in Lebanon" ergo, not imported.

Lebanese have always been cosmopolitan. Story goes that major corporations would give their products to ambulant merchants on pushcarts in Beirut in the 50s and 60s and if the product did not sell they would not bother export it to the region because the Beirutis were the barometers of taste. But not only Lebanese had taste, they also love brands - or if they cannot get the original then made a good local copy.

Long before we had any McDonalds or Burger King, we had our own Winners and Juicy Burger. No points for guessing where the Winners logo got its red and yellow colors. But we also had our own Adams Chicklets factory, our own Gada shaving cream (which was infinitely more popular than Gilette), our own Amatoury (I am one of those who still use their shower gel religiously and still think their original perfume smells incredibly nice - though when I revealed that to someone who complimented my smell, he retorted: "What? You never heard the joke, "you still wear Amatoury?" as imply someone is too retro in their taste" and I replied "well, you just said I smelled nice.").

Lest I be called a hypocrite, I too wear imported branded items - but there is nothing wrong with consuming Cortas jam, Al Wadi Al Akhdar hummus or chickpea dip, Sanita products, and the list goes on. But there is a national complex that "franji branji" (foreign items) are nicer, sleeker, better-made, more socially-boosting and status-elevating than their local counterparts.

Actually, common sense would be popular in Lebanon - if it was imported.

Consumers are irrational: I went shopping

Remember the other day how I ranted about people queuing at Zara and the Lebanese being a populace that "btedayyan ta tetzayyan"? Well, call me hypocrite - I went shopping (OK, I did not borrow money, but still). Well, the original purpose of the trip was to deliver things to my sister in law. I told our house help who fears Coronavirus irrationally and who has been fantasizing about buying clothes for a long time that she could accompany me to save her taxi money anyway.

Now, truth be told, I did need a pair of pants. The other day I went to town and came back with red patches on my thighs following me wearing my skinny jeans in the scorching heat. And with me losing so much weight due to diabetes finding pants my size are more a miss than a hit. Well, it turned out Calvin Klein produced too many children pants, and an outlet store was selling them a less than 2 Dollars.

Oh and rest assured our house help bought several items too, got all dressed up at home and I took photos of her in the new attire and the result was sent to her friends and family.

So where is the irrational part? The irrational part is the quarter zip jacket from the Puma x Han Kjobenhavn collaboration (my size no less!), deeply discounted, and sitting there waiting for me (or for any other irrational sucker)! Now, did I "need" such a piece in my wardrobe? It all depends what "need" means, because I certainly was not leaving that piece for any other person (not at that price, and not with my size being available).

Long story short, I am eyeing another pair of pants. But the rational me - which took over again - is saying "wait until you straighten your financial affairs with the bank in two weeks".

I - even with hearing aids on - ended up listening to the rational me.

Now, the question that begs itself: Do I "need" those deeply discounted Church's shoes?

I told you, consumers are irrational.