"Shell shop?" I asked. Translating the speech of a 5 -year-old can still be a little dicey. She took me to her driveway, two doors down, where she had indeed set up a little shop in the cul-de-sac in front of her house. She had used two of her brother's hockey goals set up face to face which made it look like one of those portable gazebos that people set up in the summer in their back yards. Inside, on the asphalt of the road, she had placed a beach blanket. On top of the blanket was a child-size beach chair and laid out very carefully on the seat was an assortment of various beach stones and shell fragments.
"These are from Maine," she announced proudly.
"Ah, yes," I said, recalling her family's vacation last summer to that state.
"This is my favorite one," she said, fingering one of the shell fragments.
"It's very pretty," I agreed.
"And they're four for a dollar."
I got a dollar out of my wallet and asked her to pick out four for me. After the transaction she handed the dollar to her brother who, at 7, is apparently the accountant of the partnership.
As I walked home, I recalled a marketing book (one of Jack White's) that said that children are born salesman and we lose that natural ability as we grow up. And Sydney was living proof of that. I mean, she did everything right. She went out and got her customer ("come see my shell shop"). She was selling broken pieces of shells but she displayed them in a lovely setting that increased their perceived value. She spoke of their uniqueness ("they're from Maine"), described her emotional connection ("this one is my favorite") and asked for the sale ("they're four for a dollar"). Bingo. Transaction complete.
One other thing that I learned. Sometimes people buy from you, not because you're the best around, not because you're the cheapest around, but because they like you.
If you're selling art, learn from little Sydney.
