Marks & Spencer is planning six big regional store closures in Portsmouth, Warrington, Slough, Worksop, Wokingham and Monks Cross, near York. Portsmouth council, whose £300m city redevelopment starts next month, says that it is saddened by the news and you can see the point. It’s not quite the case yet that every time an M&S store shuts a retail fairy dies, but it’s getting close.
M&S also announced that it is opening 36 smaller stores (mainly focused on food), which will create jobs, and has pledged to offer the 380 staff affected by the closures the opportunity to be reassigned. There are other big M&S branches near the closing shops, within walking distance or a short drive away. The closures were part of a reaction to the pressures facing all retailers, relating to seismic changes in shopping habits, notably the vastly increased public preference for shopping online.
There are other factors, not least that, these days, M&S clothing seems to range from eastern bloc frump, circa 1981, to wacky Middle-earth festival-goer, with not much else in between. A little while ago, I tried on some M&S shoes that were so uncomfortable they felt as though somebody else’s feet were already in them. However, while M&S’s sartorial nosedive needs to be addressed, there still seems to be something intrinsically depressing and dangerous about such companies opting for a diminished presence on high streets.
To paraphrase a certain ad campaign, some companies are not just companies – they’re part of the national fabric. This isn’t me having a turn (I don’t think that M&S is my “friend”); it’s more about how certain retailers are such familiar entities that they become almost as emotional as they’re commercial – near institutions in the community. Then there are the physical and visual elements. The sites set to close are “full-line” department stores, of the kind that dominate the hearts of towns. The problems created by huge, vacant sites in these kinds of areas aren’t going to be solved by a couple of spirited hipster startups.
Maybe I’m wrong and Slough would love some Hoxton-style breakfast cereal cafes, where you could also get a beard trim and pick up some homemade wild fig and bacon soap and perhaps an ironic dream-catcher. However, that would still leave an immense amount of space, to be filled by pound shops or simply left empty, giving the whole shopping area the look of a desperate smile where several teeth have been brutally punched out.
Is this Marks & Spencer’s problem? No, but there are myriad things to consider here, not least the ongoing battle for the soul of the high street. Are these closures more proof that large swaths of the country are set to turn into Pop-Up UK, that “online” will become not only a viable retail option but a state of being?
Once again with the high street, it seems to be back to “use it or lose it”, with lose it winning hands down. However, there’s one not inconsiderable caveat. During the 00s credit crunch, there was widespread dismay when Woolworths collapsed. However, while people proclaimed themselves incredibly sad to see Woolies stores disappear, it should be noted that, ultimately, the loyalty and affection failed to move online (Woolworth.co.uk closed in 2015, replaced by Shop Direct’s Very).
Obviously, M&S still has plenty of thriving stores, but one hopes that it and other retail giants acknowledge that, online revolution or not, they need them for the sake of their own visibility, continuity and status in the community. It could be that solely or mainly being online wouldn’t be enough to keep such companies lodged in that special (and highly lucrative) emotional-cum-community annexe of the national retail consciousness, just as it wasn’t enough for Woolworths. As with any kind of special relationship, the love has to flow both ways.
