I have profoundly mixed memories of my first Outdoor Retailer. The barely 1 year old Little Bear had an ear infection come on while we were hiking in Glacier just before, was cranky on the drive down to SLC through the night, and the next night required a hasty visit to first urgent care and then the only open pharmacy. He looks understandably haggard in this post. On the other side, I had great fun, and learned in way only first experiences can bring. A majority of the items I featured in that post are in our closets today, in one version or another, or used to be before they broke in one way or another. Subsequent shows have been bigger (SHOT), weirder (Utah Hunt Expo), and more fun (NAHBS), but I don’t expect anything else to ever rival seeing all that stuff, my stuff, in one place, with all the associated culture.
Culture; will all the positive and negative connotations.
One of the points of contention, about the new Big Gear Show and about OR for a number of years, has been access for the general public. Trade shows started as a place for shops to see and order next years stuff. This is antiquated. Purchasing and product cycles are far more dynamic, driven increasingly by direct to consumer. I think the BGS folks are correct to make a distinction between the lifestyification of outdoor gear and more core hardgoods. Lifestyle gear gets a pass, but still. If it weren’t for those at the edge, little of interest would have happened with outdoor gear. The “outdoor industry” has long been guilty of myopia as to how broad and variegated that edge can be, just as it as an entity has been guilty about the future of retail and indeed trade shows. We’re still amongst the experiment of local shops surviving the onslaught of Amazon and Frontc***ntry.com
(1), but evidence suggests that if they can, it will be on the backs of service and community, boot fitting and beta. For a few decades these places have made it into the black via apparel sales, but if these shops go too far that direction, they won’t have aquaseal, repair buckles, and emergency tent stakes anymore, nor staff who know the on the trail relevance of shoe drop.
Therefore, shows should embrace the public. All the smaller outdoor shops or businesses I’ve known are very aware that a small percentage of customers, the hardcore, the fans, drive a vast percentage of revenue. These are the people who switch packs every 5 months, kill trail runners every 90 days, and need a new setup or two every .7 ski seasons. They are the soul of the outdoor industry, not the insiders who buy everything at prodeal and are jaded by highlight reels and having to explain, year after year, what PTFE stands for. The objection is that users, exposed to new and upcoming stuff, will leave shops hanging with unsold inventory. My rebuttal is twofold: enthusiasm is more valuable in the long run than sales, and that hardgoods will be less prone to fashion and whim anyway. I’ve had several spirited discussions with product folks over the years about the value, or not, of discussing development while existing products are still sitting in inventory. It’s not diplomatic, or even sensical, but my reply has always been that good product will trump all else. Product cycles can take a haircut, and the “industry” as a whole could do with a reminder that for them, in the 21st century, unedited, conventional capitalism has little place.
But maybe that’s why I didn’t want to be in the outdoor industry after all.
1: Is it responsible and sustainable for outdoor websites to subsidize themselves off such negative influences in the form of affiliate sales?