My Kind of Town

The opening of a 7-Eleven convenience store in a fashionable downtown Chicago condominium building this summer was cause for much speculation – and sociological analysis.

Observers saw it as either the penultimate result of convenience-minded America; or as symbolic of the end of new ideas.

That's a lot of heavy breathing. I think it is probably just the answer to a need, and a testament to the power of retail branding.

7-Eleven is as well-known a brand as exists in retailing. It has come to epitomize c-storing, and if you need a place to buy essentials in a downtown area where many of the other stores close before 8 p.m., well the “c” stands for convenience.

There's a c-store revolution going on along the highways, with Texaco, Shell, Exxon and the other gas companies competing to upgrade the designs of their food marts. But no highway runs through Chicago's River North neighborhood. There's a new Bloomingdale's Home Store nearby, and all the Hugo Boss and Dolce & Gabbana you could ask for. But no highway. And, too often, no place to buy a carton of milk at midnight. (I remember a friend, who lived on Columbus Avenue in New York during that street's revival in the 1980s, telling me: “Sure, I can get 20 different varieties of coffee and 150 different imported beers and all the sushi I want, but I can't find a dry-cleaner for my shirts.”)

In this industry, we tend to equate good branding with creativity, excitement, grandiosity. And it can be all of those things. But the best branding is familiar, dependable and reassuring. We all grew up walking to the 7-Eleven for an after-school Coke; driving there for some breath mints on our way to a date; pulling in for a cup of coffee before work; rushing there for cough medicine when the kids were hacking at 11:30 at night.

And by the way, this isn't merely another 7-Eleven. The retailer hasn't simply plunked down a Slurpee machine and a rack of Slim Jims. It has changed the store to fit its snazzy new urban neighborhood. Different colors. Pendant light fixtures. Faux tin ceilings. Tiled floor that resembles wood. Fancy coffee bar in front, commodities rack moved to the back.

So a lot of changes. But the common denominator is still the name – as a brand, it works. It's recognizable and comforting and evocative. “I grew up with a 7-Eleven down the street,” said one 20-year-old at the store's opening. “Who didn't?” said her boyfriend.

Retail design veteran Joe Weishar told me recently that if I wanted to see some of the best new retail in Manhattan, I should take a look at a couple of urban c-stores: Wonder Foods on 36th and Fifth, and Austin's on 34th and Park. Perhaps the one thing Weishar reveres as much as New York is retail design, so that's a rave!

7-Eleven is an international retail brand. People in 19 different countries, from Norway to Malaysia, have access to one. There are nearly 10,000 units in Japan, and 148 of them per every million Taiwanese.

Asians, who are frequently short on kitchen space, are said to use 7-Elevens and other convenience stores as pantries to which they make frequent shopping trips for smaller purchases.

Why shouldn't Chicago's downtown condo dwellers with the same needs have the same opportunities?