My wife and I spend part of almost every Saturday afternoon in our Whole Foods store on Shelbyville Road in Louisville.
Like just about the rest of the English-speaking world, we're drawn by the environment, the presentation, the assurance of quality and the attention to detail. From the moment we walk in the store, and see the light bouncing off the bright red tomatoes and deep orange carrots and greener-than-green peppers, we know we're in a place that cares about freshness and shoppers' needs.
But here's another guilty pleasure I'll admit to about my Whole Foods adventure: I dig the samples!
Every time I go in, I know I'll have a chance to sip some lobster bisque, eat a cracker full of pesto spread, pop a few exotic cheese cubes into my mouth and have a tiny taste of cole slaw or mac-and-cheese or orzo with peppers. There's also likely to be hot bread and some kind of unusual butter.
Depending on the day, they might also be serving up some scallops roasting on a hot plate or sliced steak or pasta in sauce. And I might finish the whole thing off with a piece of chocolate truffle or two or a brownie or a wedge of cake.
It's a tasty practice that my local Kroger doesn't offer and neither do the Wild Oats or Fresh Market stores in my neighborhood. And I'm not sure why. It sure helps soften the notion of Whole Foods as a take-your-money-and-run operation. Yes, they charge a lot for heirloom tomatoes and a box of those truffles. But they also willingly, voluntarily, give me something for my visit.
Generous? I suppose. Shrewd? You have to assume there's a method to their madness. Their samples draw me into the store – and keep me there – just as Borders does with its carte blanche policy that allows customers to read books and newspapers off the shelf, library-style.
To that extent, Whole Foods has become the third place for foodies.
I've discovered, though, that sampling need not be restricted to cheese and truffles. My wife, Joie, recently went to an Aveda franchised salon in Louisville's Seelbach Hotel for, ahem, “highlights.” (She said it would be all right for me to say that.) She hadn't scheduled a styling, but her hairdresser encouraged her to stay in the salon, styling her hair herself, with the use of the salon's equipment and its full line of product.
For the next half-hour, my wife played with Aveda's damage-control product, volumizer, extra-hold styling gel, styling hairspray and then a finishing extra-hold hairspray. Periodically, the hairdresser stopped by, curling iron in hand, to offer a tip on the use of each of the products and to compliment Joie on how how well she was styling her hair by herself.
“I had not only learned about Aveda haircare,” she told me, “but I'd decided to purchase each product I'd sampled.”
Of course, cosmetics companies have been using sampling for years in department stores to peddle their wares. But Aveda isn't a department store product. It circles the globe with a variety of retail concepts – lifestyle salons, concept salons, experience centers and destination spas, all offering a different array of services. That gives it all a certain aura of exclusivity, if not wide distribution. And its company credo of being kind to the earth makes it a desirable brand to support.
To “give” my wife the space, time, tools and product to indulge herself seems generous. It's also smart. She walked out of there with about $150 worth of merchandise in her bag and the determination to keep giving Aveda her business.
We like the “free” stuff these retailers give us. It makes swiping our VISA card at the checkout counter seem easier. Are we really getting more for our money? We think we are.