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Our local Target has been going through some sort of an identity crisis, and looks to be coming out the other side a sleeker, swankier beat. Dont think I haven’t noticed, you sexy thing.

The store has been going through several changes over the last year and a half or so. The first big change I noticed was when they moved whole sections of the store around, which confused the bejesus out of me for a long while. I’m a creature of habit, and when you move the light bulbs on me, it can take me weeks to recover. For example, they moved the food from the front of the store where it’d previously been located to the far left wall. The reason? Product placement, would be my guess. Now any time you want to pick up a gallon of orange juice on your way home, you’re obligated to walk past the children’s clothing (aww… the widdle baby shirtses!), personal hygiene (do I have enough shampoo? Is there really such a thing as too much?), electronics (OJ + iPod = True Love), and new DVD releases (Johnny Knoxville as a mentally challenged person? Wow, he’s really growing as an actor) before you get to the good stuff. As such, my orange juice is costing an average of $20 per gallon more than it used to.

More recently, however, they’ve started reorganizing within the sections. The biggest change I noticed was in the men’s clothing section. Considering my primary purpose for being in the store in the first place last trip was to buy a new belt, this is hardly a scientific study. However, there had been big changes since I’d last been there. First off, the quantity of clothing had, as far as I could tell, decreased significantly. The result? More space between the racks. Any technical communicator or designer worth his/her salt knows the power of white space, and Target seems to have recently figured it out as well. More space around the racks means more convenience for the customers, but also a better visual representation of the product. Products deserving of their own oasis of space must be good.

They’ve also started carrying different types of clothing. Now, I’ve been shopping at Target for most of my life, and at the Ames Target for the last seven years, and I can safely say that this is the first trip where I’ve ever seen suits on display. Real, honest-to-god suits, in a variety of sizes, shapes, and colors. Had I an extra $100 or so to spend, I would have bought one, too. They looked pretty decent. The suits weren’t the biggest change, though. What I immediately noticed (well, after the use of white space) were the colors available. Ooo. I’m going through a faze right now wherein I cannot resist purchasing bright, beautiful colors slapped on most any product assuming they’re not produced for a different species or gender, and Target caught me.

All told, my trip to buy orange juice and a belt ended up costing me close to $70. I ended up with a new brilliant orangered t-shirt and a bluegreen bath mat. I have no need for a new shirt (other than the fact that I’ve recently decided my wardrobe is too dun), and I have absolutely no use for a second bath mat. I didn’t need them, but when I saw them, I ~wanted~ them. This is the first time I’ve ever been so aware of product placement and store organization working as it’s supposed to.