Oy! Canada!

It’s easy, I guess, for Americans to think of Canada as our country-cousin.

They speak the same language. They have the same intense knowledge of our politics (though most of us couldn’t name any of their prime ministers since Pierre Trudeau).

They have teams in our professional baseball and basketball leagues and in our National Hockey League (though they might tell us we have teams in their National Hockey League).

The border has been little more than a thin line on a Rand-McNally road atlas for Canadian athletes, performers and business people who amass American-style fame and fortune. Frank Gehry. Robert Campeau. The Warner brothers and Louis B. Mayer.

Linda Evangelista. Pamela Anderson. Justin Bieber. Michael J. Fox. Jim Carrey. Ryan Gosling. Avril Lavigne. Matthew Perry. Keanu Reeves. Joe Mimran. (And that’s a very, very partial list.)

So when U.S. retailers like Target and Nordstrom announced plans to open Canadian stores, the main question for many of us was, “What took you so long?”

I suppose the question now, in light of the very public Target debacle up there, should be, “What the hell happened?”

Target, which has been one of the most sure-footed of American retailers in the last 20 years, fessed-up to a whole bunch of mistakes in what it called “a remarkable failure.” Among the problems was the questionable strategy of opening 124 new stores in just a few months. Target also had problems keeping the shelves stocked. And the merchandise it did have on its shelves was too often dismissed by Canadian shoppers as “disappointing” and “overpriced.”

Canadian shoppers were looking for the same opportunities to buy stylish, well-designed home goods at reasonable prices that had driven Target’s U.S. reputation as a pioneer in “cheap chic.” They didn’t get them.

Also, Target’s real estate grab forced it into many smaller-than-average spaces in questionable locations that had been occupied by Zeller’s, a Canadian retail brand. And that, to me, is part of the problem that has gone undiscussed.

Eleven years ago, I spent some time in Toronto for an article on the redevelopment of Bloor Street, Toronto’s fashion row. Big news then was a big Gap store on an important corner. (That was when a Gap store meant something exciting and trendy.) There was also the impending emergence of brands like Chanel and Prada, Hèrmes and Gucci.

But as I toured those few blocks of Bloor Street retail, I noticed something else. There was a beautiful Birks Jewelers, but no Tiffany. A Harry Rosen men’s store, but no Barneys. A luxe Holt Renfrew department store, but no Neiman Marcus. A big Hudson’s Bay store, but no Macy’s. A Chapters book store, but no Barnes & Noble.

I’m not saying Toronto’s very cosmopolitan shoppers were indifferent to American brands. I’m just saying they weren’t crying for them. They had plenty of homegrown retail names of their own.

Anyone who thought this would be easy didn’t do the homework, apparently. They didn’t count on the local color – or spell that “colour.” Eh?

As a journalist, writer, editor and commentator, Steve Kaufman has been watching the store design industry for 20 years. He has seen the business cycle through retailtainment, minimalism, category killers, big boxes, pop-ups, custom stores, global roll-outs, international sourcing, interactive kiosks, the emergence of China, the various definitions of “branding” and Amazon.com. He has reported on the rise of brand concept shops, the demise of brand concept shops and the resurgence of brand concept shops. He has been an eyewitness to the reality that nothing stays the same, except the retailer-shopper relationship.