Fully focused
Focus group last night - what a hoot. Location was up a mews in Wimbledon and was basically a conference room with a couple of discreet video cameras and one wall lined with a two-way mirror, through which, we were told, Boden designers scrutinised us! Of course, on seeing the mirror I was tempted to walk to it, look hard at it and say something like '…so you can either charge me or let me go Kowalski, I'm through with you, I'm through with your apes and I'm through with this case!'.
Focus group was apparently picked at random (though with geographical bias so that we'd all be handy for Wimbledon). Ten blokes, all Boden customers, age range from late thirties (me) to early sixties. Looking at them, your average Boden customer is self-employed, portly and wealthy. I could tell they were wealthy because they conceded that the clothes were 'expensive' rather than how I class them, which is 'f**king outrageous'.
One of them made a point about the models in the catalogue, explaining that he never saw 'fat, middle aged men' in it. Too right, for two reasons - first of all, I imagine that they are not as much fun for the photographer to screw on the location shoot and secondly, I'm not a fat middle aged man and neither are my mates. But I bit my lip rather than saying 'sod off, see that photo there, good looking blokes in pub enjoying drink, that's my life!'
Exercise itself was just a lot of blah blah blah, everyone in turn going on about what they liked, what they didn't like and so on. It was interesting to see finally the sort of people who actually buy those ridiculous pull-ons, which I thought were only fit for having custard tipped down them in the centre ring, but bugger all else.
There was wine and sandwiches and, frankly, I've had worse times when I've been out socialising. Showing fabulous self control I managed to stop myself from speed-drinking the three cans of stella on the table in front of me, instead I waited until half an hour to the end and then tried to force as much wine down my neck as etiquette would allow. The fabulous thing is of course that after a glass of wine, ones sense of etiquette is distorted and after two glasses, it's so distorted you might as well be looking at it in the hall of mirrors.
I did manage to get in your comment about 'of course if Johnny Boden designed a shirt like that, he'd probably call it a 'toolcutters apron shirt''. Frankly mate, looking around the room, he'd be better off calling his new shirt the 'sex tourist' and running a bit of blurb along the lines of 'generously cut to stretch all the way over your middle aged spread'.
Suspicions about market research confirmed - everyone that works in market research has a posh voice. Actually, I need to qualify that, everyone who works INSIDE in market research has a posh voice, otherwise, how does one explain the accent of the people with clipboards that stop you in the street and probe your feelings about chutney?
Focus group was apparently picked at random (though with geographical bias so that we'd all be handy for Wimbledon). Ten blokes, all Boden customers, age range from late thirties (me) to early sixties. Looking at them, your average Boden customer is self-employed, portly and wealthy. I could tell they were wealthy because they conceded that the clothes were 'expensive' rather than how I class them, which is 'f**king outrageous'.
One of them made a point about the models in the catalogue, explaining that he never saw 'fat, middle aged men' in it. Too right, for two reasons - first of all, I imagine that they are not as much fun for the photographer to screw on the location shoot and secondly, I'm not a fat middle aged man and neither are my mates. But I bit my lip rather than saying 'sod off, see that photo there, good looking blokes in pub enjoying drink, that's my life!'
Exercise itself was just a lot of blah blah blah, everyone in turn going on about what they liked, what they didn't like and so on. It was interesting to see finally the sort of people who actually buy those ridiculous pull-ons, which I thought were only fit for having custard tipped down them in the centre ring, but bugger all else.
There was wine and sandwiches and, frankly, I've had worse times when I've been out socialising. Showing fabulous self control I managed to stop myself from speed-drinking the three cans of stella on the table in front of me, instead I waited until half an hour to the end and then tried to force as much wine down my neck as etiquette would allow. The fabulous thing is of course that after a glass of wine, ones sense of etiquette is distorted and after two glasses, it's so distorted you might as well be looking at it in the hall of mirrors.
I did manage to get in your comment about 'of course if Johnny Boden designed a shirt like that, he'd probably call it a 'toolcutters apron shirt''. Frankly mate, looking around the room, he'd be better off calling his new shirt the 'sex tourist' and running a bit of blurb along the lines of 'generously cut to stretch all the way over your middle aged spread'.
Suspicions about market research confirmed - everyone that works in market research has a posh voice. Actually, I need to qualify that, everyone who works INSIDE in market research has a posh voice, otherwise, how does one explain the accent of the people with clipboards that stop you in the street and probe your feelings about chutney?
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