These beauties are mine, and I can thank the power of brand influence, technology on the go, and my complete inability to pass by the Kate Spade store on Newbury Street and not go in. I first saw this pair of must-have patent leather, pointy-toed, Mary Jane-inspired, rubber-soled flats on their Instagram feed.
If you’re not familiar with the program, Instagram is a mobile app for the iPhone that allows you to snap an image, apply one of a handful (maybe 15 filters), and share with a tagged location and comment via Facebook, Twitter, or email. The photo is also saved on your phone. Users who opt to follow you (Twitter style, no accepting necessary) see your photos in a news feed stream and can like and comment on them. The service has come under some scrutiny for its liberal terms of service (read: others can use your images royalty free and without notice to you), but I still snap shots of Woofie on the go without fear of the loss of my intellectual property. When I see brands such as Kate Spade, the Boston Celtics, and Starbucks hopping on the bandwagon, though, I’m not too worried– and I love seeing brands share their products and industry events with followers through images.
So, back to the shoes. Scrolling through my feed and wiping the drool away from my lips as I passed Chobani and Chow, I meet the Elena flat. You can’t even find it on their website yet, but I was prompted to search because, voila!, here was a product I could really use, and I wanted to find the absurd price. I liked them enough to comment on the Instagram shot. (PS, comments, likes, and new followers are pushed to your phone, but I don’t think anybody’s got a solution that syncs these updates with other network activity a la Echofon.) Uh oh. Once you engage in conversation with a brand over an item, you’re done. You will end up with it– just ask everyone I discuss the merits of a burger and frappe with over on the UBurger twitter feed.
By a destined twist of fate, I walked down Newbury Street today and passed the store. I wondered if they had The Shoes. We crossed the street and went in. They had The Shoes. The Shoes cost a cool $198, a bit more than I’d want to spend for footwear that I intend to wear into the fall, but a bit less than I’ve spent at the same store for some slingbacks I couldn’t live without. The sales girl sealed the deal, recounting to me that she has a pair and loves them, that the rubber sole is durable, that they are a solid city shoe. I made the purchase and happily left the store.
This transaction started long before I set foot in the store, or approached an employee for my size to try on. One night, waiting for someone or something, I casually scrolled by this product. It was something I’d been seeking and wanted and was too damn lazy to commit to shopping for. Buying this product would solve a problem (namely, that I buy cheap black flats every 5 months or so when my old pair wears through), and this brand carries influence and is reputable in my eyes for being quality. The trendiness of their product as well as their marketing team, who is heavily active on Twitter and Instagram, wins me over as well.
Of course, the attention at the store was appreciated, but I was sold from the second I saw that photo in my Instagram feed.