The End of Retail as We Know It. Redux.

The Flagship Neiman Marcus in Downtown Dallas will close on September 30.

This storied retail Mecca was erected in 1913, after the first Neiman Marcus, founded in 1907, by Herbert Marcus Sr., his sister Carrie Marcus Neiman, and her husband A. L. Neiman, was destroyed by fire.

As a Marketing Major in the Cox School of Business at Southern Methodist University in 1992, I had the incredible opportunity to meet and converse with Stanley Marcus, Herbert's son, as the retail legend had come to lecture our very small class. Neiman Marcus have been SMU supporters since prior to its breaking ground. Mr. Marcus regaled my class with the legendary customer service doctrine into which he was baptized by his father and I was completely entranced.

The story, the brand and the store have places in my shopping "psyche" if not my heart, in exactly that order. The story is legend; the brand is a force; the store is not what it could be.

Neiman Marcus will continue to operate in its other 32 stores across 15 states. The NM store in Plano, Texas is set to close in 2027. Interestingly, one of the best performing outposts in the nation is actually Dallas, Northpark. This both makes complete sense and is a total non sequitur. 

If you have followed the numerous mergers, acquisitions and/or the general "runnings into the ground" of some former retail scions - Saks, Sears, Marshall Field's, Burdine's, etc., you know how fragile department stores (and obviously, retail in general) as we have known and loved them since the late 1960s, have been.

Once, the epicenter of a day at the mall — the department store (have you been to one in the past 5 years?) — is a hit or miss, feast or famine pulse check of the health of the economy in a given zip code (depending on the demographics of household income and age). 

Malls just miles apart can actually look like they are in different galaxies.

I actually spent about 3 hours (intentionally) in the downtown Dallas Neimans in the fall of 2025 (knowing its demise was imminent, but hoping against hope that history and nostalgia would prevail). It was grim. I hadn't visited since the year after I graduated SMU in 1994, when I also shopped at the flagship. 

But We'll Always Have our Champers Vending Machine!

It was barely limping along in 1995 - certainly there was nobody shopping at that location (Main Street and Ervay Street in Dallas) other than ladies who lunched (the ladies on their actual lunchbreaks, who would have been from high-powered jobs downtown, were nowhere to be found or working at their suburban outposts by that time). It was depressing even then, but I still procured a delightful shade of YSL lipstick.

This last time, it was literally a shell of its former, former self. I was one of only about 20 customers I saw in that entire 3-hour period. Not a soul in makeup. One clerk in jewelry. The guy putting up the Christmas decor had done so for 30 years, but I was the only one browsing amongst the $50+ glass ornaments. 

SANTA! I know him!

Twice while I was there the security teams were actively escorting people out of the store. When I left, I didn't wait for my Uber outside, I was too afraid. Mind you, Dallas is the only downtown in which I've ever been afraid. 

I took myself for a lazy (if not curious) lunch in the storied Zodiac Room (a predecessor to some of the great retail dining experiences generations before us would come to treasure, such as the Walnut Room of Marshall Field's fame). I was one of 12 diners (a table of perhaps septuagenarians who met monthly over chicken salads) and a raucus table of good 'ole girls celebrating a birthday with their YouTube videos and Facetime conversations a' blarin'). I enjoyed my broth, my popover, my chicken salad and my book. Then I wandered among previously bustling floors to look at art from Fortnight and other historic celebrations. The walls were talking and I was listening, but it all made me so sad.

At the Zodiac, in between broth and popovers

Art, travel and history were near and dear to the hearts of the Marcus family - and so each year there were celebrations in that very Dallas store — honoring many countries and some of the greatest designers and industry trailblazers of all time.  

The Neiman Marcus Fashion Awards began in 1938 and honored people such as Coco Chanel, Christian Dior, Grace Kelly, Yves Saint Laurent, Estée Lauder, Valentino, Oscar de la Renta, Giorgio Armani, Karl Lagerfeld, Miuccia Prada and Ralph Lauren. 

Given the penchant for all things luxurious, it seems only natural the next iconic offering would be The Neiman Marcus Christmas Book whose famous Fantasy Gifts began in 1959. Herewith, a sampling of procurable (for the right price) items 

• His & Hers airplanes, 1960 — a seven-seat Beechcraft Super G18 for him and a Beechcraft Bonanza for her. Combined price: $176,000 in 1960 dollars. D Magazine
• Black Angus steer, 1959 — often cited as the original Fantasy Gift: delivered either very much alive or, rather ominously, as steaks. D Magazine
• The $20 million submarine — one of the all-time legends; even the person responsible for finding Fantasy Gifts later described the pressure of having to top it. D Magazine
• A private seat on the New York Stock Exchange — yes, really. Neiman Marcus itself lists this among its historic Fantasy Gifts. Neiman Marcus
• Andy Warhol portraits — commission Warhol rather than merely buy one. Neiman Marcus
• Jack Nicklaus-designed backyard golf course — because apparently a putting green was insufficiently Neiman Marcus. Neiman Marcus

All this is to say, how on earth could we let such an icon slip away? Literally slip — it took years, and years and years — when there were ample and obvious opportunities to resurrect, reinvigorate, rebuild, refurbish? 

Maybe icons, actual icons, are something we now know in trendy parlance only? 

But, wait, we've re-fallen-in-love with Ralph Lauren, The Gap, J.Crew and even fashion magazines. The experiences those stores, those clothes and those pages have given us are being embraced by new generations. Nostalgia cannot and absolutely should not win the day, but I do remain flabblerghasted as to how we couldn't keep a literal gallery of fashion  complete with vending machines filled with champagne afloat. That's all.

I am the kind of person to show up to a job interview with an Iced Coffee (Venti or Lavender Matcha, Light Ice) - and offer to get one for you, too!

There are multifarious reasons I put my own name on my very own (digital) shingle. This is one of them. ...

A recent article in THE CUT  highlighted a Tik Tok about a new "metric" ("My best friend's sister's girlfriend heard from this guy who knows this kid who's going with the girl who saw Ferris pass out at 31 Flavors last night".) by which to judge those on the job market. Now, I clearly have not been on the job market in a number of years — as a Gen X over 50-female in a beautiful beach community 50 miles from Orlando. That's not to say I do not meet with my fantastic clients all the time, coffee in hand (and ALWAYS an ask as to what they'd like, too, of course - and boy, are they specific!).

In my LLC, we work from home, my octogenarian father's house, and Starbucks (my newly promoted Manager and I). Or, I work from other local businesses or at the airport, on the plane and any and all farflung destinations (some clients do not even know when I am not stateside) available.

Zeus the Manager, seen enjoying a Puppuccino

I have worked at ad agencies both large and little, on the client side at major sports venues and museums and then finally for myself (and served in many roles — but not always on the creative or accounting side — including President and/or Chair of non-profit organizations).

As a college grad or a 20 - or 30-something, it's hard enough putting together the perfect CV, constantly promoting oneself and then — especially if fortunate to be vying for any position in an extremely competitive industry — AND making oneself seem special (but not too). Let alone worrying about (and this is where my OCD — yes, diagnosed — came in handy), wearing the right outfit, getting names and titles correct, and answering the dreaded, "What is your biggest fault?" questions.

And then this? Should you have your coffee and drink it, too? If it's a Venti and it's 8:30am, I'm not finishing it before I go into the interview. There is no "leave it in the car" in the Big City, folks. 

I said I would move back to our family's home in Ormond Beach from Chicago, if only there were a Starbucks. And there was and there is. 

For me, looking forward to Starbucks or wherever you like to treat yourself, is a reward and a comfort for getting up, working out, getting the kid to school, getting out there and getting going. And it's like a therapy dog (see Manager, above) — it's also a security blanket. "If this interview ..." "If this pitch ..." — doesn't go well, at least I have my coffee. 

Back when I was 23/24, and a walk to Starbucks with my Creative Director meant I had finally, actually, really gotten a job at an ad agency, the coffee felt like a rite of passage. It was the biggest indulgence I wanted to afford. It was a little daily celebration. It still is. And by the way, I just procured some of that same creative director's fine art. Friendships (and maybe interviews) built on coffee always seem to last. 

When I had the privilege of working at big agencies in big cities, I also had the privilege of a coffee shop at the bottom floor of the buildings (fated, clearly). I was two lattes a day (one decaf, as dictated by my team), back then. 

Why are those of us fortunate enough to be interviewing people so far removed from the reality of what it feels like on the other side? We've already proofed the resumé and not accepted any with typos (by the way some people write these days, maybe that's not the case — where are we not using AI when it counts!?!), they are sitting in our office and we can either learn from their experiences and advise them why they're not a fit and hope they do better elsewhere or we consider what dynamic they may add to the team and how we can serve as amazing mentors. We're only doing the disfavor to ourselves and our company if we are closed off and closed-minded.

And we might miss out on a great co-worker and an even better coffee buddy and career-long friend on those meetings over coffee. Maybe save yourself the judgment and the trip and host the interview at the coffee shop.

This is what makes it a Good Morning!