If you want to get me, you'd better GET me.

Holt Renfrew is in the midst of a minor PR disaster.

Having fired iconic Doorman and defacto “Mayor of Bloor Street”, Tom Hargitai, the luxury retailer has unleashed the wrath of twitter, facebook and a band of social media savvy (and now disgruntled) customers.

In what appears to have been a very misguided attempt at re-branding itself as hip and cool (who knew they weren't), the luxury retailer has only demonstrated how out of touch they are with their current and potential client base.

I shop at Holt Renfrew. Admittedly, I’m not as prolific a shopper, as say, the tween children of wealthy bankers who trot through their doors on a weekly basis, or the jet-setting executive with a penchant for DVF, but I am there at least once or twice a month, and I generally don’t leave without a purchase.

Why do I shop there?

Well for starters, I have serious fashion issues, that date back to my Grandmothers, who filled my closet with items from the luxury behemoth from the time I was small, and by small I mean in Kindergarten. I had no chance, really.

Secondly, like Donna Summer, I work hard for my money. Which means that when I spend it on clothes, I want them to be constructed well and I want them to last. I’m willing to pay more for something if I know it’s going to look good and it’s not going to fall apart when I put it in the washing machine. Generally speaking, Holt Renfrew has never let me down in this department.

Ultimately though, I go there because of the employees. I go there because when I head to the Kiehl's counter in Ottawa, Amanda greets me with a smiling face, she knows what kind of product I’m looking for, roughly what I have to spend and she pops little samples in my bag, samples I usually end up purchasing on my next visit. I go there because when I’m looking for something to wear on date night – the woman upstairs answers me honestly when I ask her if the harem pants I have on look completely ridiculous on someone my age (32).

The reality is, I don’t have to have to go to Holt Renfrew to feed my fashion addiction and I don’t have to go there to buy quality clothes. With the power of the internet, I can do it from the comfort of my own home, or the Starbucks on the corner, or on the train, where I presently am or in the middle of a farmers’ field in Blenheim if I choose.

But Holt Renfrew wants me, or it keeps telling me so in the e-mail promotions it sends me and the mailings that arrive at my door full of young, trendy images. It wants me, I know it does and it wants others in my demographic.

Problem is, they don’t get me, or anyone else in my age cohort. Or, at least, the firing of the illustrious Mayor of Bloor Street would have it appear that way.
The message Holt Renfrew has sent me is that it thinks I care more about luxury items, style and status more than people. I keep hoping that Holt’s isn’t trying to tell me they view my generation as soulless, superficial, self-interested shmucks, focused only on what we look like, but I'm hard pressed to believe otherwise. The truth is that as much as my Grandmothers taught me about style, they also taught me about how to treat people, and those lessons had a far more powerful impact than "the importance of a well cut pair of pants."

To be fair, I don’t think Holt’s is inherently nefarious, but I do think this is an example of exceptionally bad judgement on their part. Moreover, I think it underscores that they are out of touch with their clients, and with the people they want to be clients.

So, I’ll be watching how Holt’s responds, as I suspect others will be, not just to this event but to how it seeks out my business and how it comports itself as an employer and corporate citizen.

Oh, and by the way, my Grandmothers would be completely appalled.