“Turning purchases into conversations”

I saw an article in a recent Economist that mentioned a startup named Swipely, which has as its tag “We turn purchases into conversations.”

For starters, the use of the word “conversation” for much of what goes on on the ‘net is a coinage that I absolutely abhor. I guess I’m just a capital FU fuddy-duddy, but I actually don’t consider most blogging, tweeting, news article commenting, Facebooking, etc. much of a conversation.

Sure, I have “met” some folks through blogging, and have had a number of interesting e-mail back-and-forths with some of my blog buddies.  Our exchanges have, in fact, more or less risen to the level of a low-level conversation.

But someone's tweeting  ‘maybe I’ll get some Starbucks’; writing ‘URA slut’ on Ethel-Mary Quagmire’s FB wall; or posting a comment that “Obama is a fashist-comunist muslin” on a newsite is not one end of any conversation I care to hold up my end of.

I, of course, digress.

Swipely doesn’t want us to ‘join the conversation’ so that we can rant about Ethel-Mary Quagmire or muslins in the White House. They want us to “recommend purchase experiences, discover new places and products through trusted friends, save money, and have more fun shopping.”

First off, an English-major type of question here: does Swipely want us to “recommend purchase experiences”, as in, ‘when I test the melons at Whole Foods, I gently push my thumb in the soft spot”? Or, as in, “I recommend the purchase experience at the Korean cleaners on Charles because the couple who own it are really nice”?  Or, as in, ‘I had a great time buying Make Way for Ducklings at Borders. Buying a baby present always makes me feel good. I highly recommend it.”

Guess I’m not quite clear on just what constitutes a “purchase experience.”

As for the rest of it: Even before there was an Internet, I was always discovering new places and products through trusted friends.  E.g.,

Me: I really like that sweater. Where’d you get it?

Friend:  Marshall’s.

Or:

Friend: We tried that new Thai place. It was great.

Me:  Good. We were thinking of going there.

These are, of course, rudimentary illustrations, but they do have the benefit (to capital FU fuddy-duddy me, at least) of being part of a live, interactive, possibly even in-person conversation with someone I actually know and like.

Saving money is also on the Swipely list.

What’s not to like there?

I hit the sales. I use my LL Bean reward coupons. I love me a bargain as much as the next guy.

So helping me save money is good. Awesome, even. Maybe even wicked- awesome.

But it’s not enough to get me to start sharing my shopping history, which, I take it, is what Swipely wants us to do, i.e., tie some info bleat to every swipe of the credit card, every click on the PayPal button. (This may not, in fact, be what they do. I was really too lazy to go through the site and figure out exactly what they’re up to.)

Swipely also wants to provide a means to make shopping more fun.

Personally, despite moments of frustration – doesn’t anyone in Boston sell Gold-Toe gym socks anymore? – shopping is generally a fun experience.

I certainly don’t do as much of it as I used to, when I was working full time and did  plenty of frustration-response shopping. As in, if I have to commute 30 miles to this crappy job, I might as well stop on the way home and buy myself yet another periwinkle blue sweater.

But mostly I enjoy shopping, whether it’s buying a gift, getting groceries, browsing for books (for the record, I do recommend the new Jonathan Franzen), or picking out new bras. And I do enjoy an occasional social-shop with “the girls.” The ones who will tell you when something does nothing for you. Who can light on the one article of clothing in a shop that is “you”. And who know exactly whether you’re signaling “buy’ or “don’t buy” when you ask them what you should do with the yet another periwinkle blue sweater you’re holding in your hand.

Plus, you get to have lunch, and talk about what you just bought and/or where you’re planning to go next.

Also, during lunch, there will be real conversation, as in talk about politics, movies, books, families, friends, work. Conversations that we don’t even have to think about joining. They’re already joined! And it’s all natural: no keyboard intermediary required. No wi-fi available, no biggie. If your mouth can move, conversation can happen. The original wireless communication device: speech. And it happens in real-time that’s even more real-time than a tweet.

Of course, I’m not the demographic for Swipely. (Anyone who remembers when “swipe” meant “steal”, and not “charge card” is just too old. Speaking of which, as cards get smarter, we won’t be swiping them, we’ll be tapping them, and Swipely will become either a quaint name, or take on its own meaning.)

With respect to shopping, by there way, there is a blessed and natural process that occurs for many of us. And that’s as you get older, you just plain find yourself not needing as much stuff. And I’m pretty much there. In fact, you get to the point where deaccessioning is equally pleasurable to, if not more pleasurable than, accessioning.

Maybe I’ll start tweeting about the junk I’m going to leave out back on trash day.

Defunct company mugs. Still good. No chips.

Collected works of Armistead Maupin. Slight mildew smell

Yet another periwinkle blue sweater.

It’s not exactly a conversation, but someone may be interested in hearing it.