Price is Their Strong Suit : Discounters: Weekend-only clothiers promise 50% to 75% off and lots of stock. And men are buying.
Maybe it’s the rock-bottom prices that make Erik Barros wonder. Or the erratic, weekend-only hours. Perhaps it’s the cheesy name: “Suit City.”
“It all sounds so illegal, doesn’t it?” says Barros, 31, a Montebello carpenter whose wife dragged him to the Fountain Valley discounter to find an inexpensive suit for a wedding. “It makes you wonder if they’re stealing these things off dead bodies.”
Shopping in a 22,000-square-foot warehouse may unsettle some customers. But there’s nothing unlawful about the rash of three-day “suit brokers” popping up throughout Los Angeles, Orange and Riverside counties. And with promised savings of 50% to 75% off retail and a seemingly fathomless selection, such retailers as Suit City, Three-Day Suit Brokers and Men’s Clothiers of Santa Ana (temporarily open daily) have become a new haunt for bargain-hunters.
“Maybe the word discounter sounds a little dirty to some men,” offers Edward Phillips, executive vice president of Suit City, with stores in Corona and Fountain Valley. “But when a guy comes in and sees 10,000 suits on the floor, he realizes this is fantastic inventory. If he can’t find a suit here, there’s something wrong with him.”
Even very tall or short customers will find a suit--plus sport coats, dress shirts, neckties, belts and shoes--to fit them, say the weekend warriors, as these discounters are known in the industry.
“We go from 36 shorts to 60 longs, and we offer more than 300 suits in (each of) those sizes,” says Leo Shahinian, president of Three-Day Suit Brokers, with stores in Fountain Valley and Glendale.
The labels lean toward such obscure Italian brands as Paulo Gucci and Leonardo, as well as Hugo Boss, James Edmonds, Oleg Cassini and Hartmarx, all priced from $89 to $535. (Don’t expect to see a Donna Karan or Calvin Klein among the pack.)
“The average suit at Suit City goes out the door at $150,” Phillips says.
Housed in the kind of mammoth quarters usually associated with light industry, the suits are divided into long aisles. Boldly lettered signs hanging from the ceiling or a post direct shoppers to their sizes.
In some places, the hang tags include the original price; in others, they list only the “everyday low price.” Shirts, shoes and accessories get their own self-serve sections. The amenities amount to chairs outside the curtained dressing rooms for mates in waiting.
“Basically, it’s like walking into a Home Depot for men’s clothing,” Shahinian says of the shopping experience.
To keep down prices, the weekend-only discounters buy manufacturers’ leftovers and sell them about 30% above wholesale, less than most department stores’ markups. They eschew fancy fixtures, storefronts and long-term marketing strategies, relying on a midweek blitz of radio and print ads. And the part-time employees receive no commissions or benefits.
As a result, sales help may be scarce in the stores, Phillips concedes. “There’s no one standing over you pulling suits out and saying, ‘Try this on’ or ‘This will look great on you.’ ” The stores do, however, offer alterations, including free hemline fixes, through on-site tailors.
The weekend warriors suggest that a suit shopper’s mate is his most important asset anyway.
“The reason we’re open only on the weekend is because most guys like to shop with a woman, either their girlfriend or their wife. And they can’t do that during the week,” says Bob Sherinian, general manager of Three-Day Suit Brokers.
