We all have our brand affinities. If you know me at all from my blog posts, you’ll know that Godiva and Mustang are two of mine. Coach is another. I’m on its email list. I get mailings—email and print—for previews and exclusive sales. Alas, as much as I’d like a closet full of Coach bags and accessories, I have a mortgage and a teenager.
But that doesn’t mean Coach will stop trying to entice me. I’m fine with that. I mean, hey, I did sign up for its email list. And, with Coach now using my behavioral data, it may gain more of my wallet share after all—pun intended.
Coach recently sent an email with a preview of its new Madison collection. Of course, I click through to the website and browsed around. That’s when it all started. I fell for the Madison Kimberly. I clicked around but kept coming back to ogle it. I left empty handed.
Fast forward to the next day. In my inbox is an email from Coach with a photo of the Madison Kimberly and a few other items I viewed. Oh, yes, Coach had data and was using it. I couldn’t resist. I click through again and gazed longingly at the bag. I lingered. But again I left without purchasing.
A day later, as I browsed online to plan an upcoming trip, Coach was there with me. It served up a banner with the Madison Kimberly. It was wearing me down; tempting me with the coveted tote. You know what happened next, don’t you? I clicked.
No, I didn’t purchase then either, but the story isn’t over. I may eventually buy the Madison Kimberly, but it will be in store. I need to touch it, inspect it, and test it on my shoulder—an investment that big isn’t made lightly.
In the meantime, Coach likely will continue its subtle, and not so subtle, appeals. And that’s OK with me.