a series of partners including UPS and Deutschepost. Perhaps most remarkably, Malmsten claims that the site "will have real-time links to our suppliers," so that nothing will be available for purchase on Boo.com that doesn't physically exist in a warehouse somewhere.
Finally, there's globalization. Boo.com represents one of the first retailing sites created from scratch that will operate "globally from day one," says Jay Herratti, Boo's VP of U.S. operations. New York has the customer-service and front-end technical issues; London, design and management. The virtual mannequins and shoe stands were shot in Los Angeles. When the site becomes operational later this month, it will launch simultaneously in four major markets and six languages. Entrants into Boo.com's space can choose from 35 different countries, and that number is bound to expand during the next few months. All transactions can be done in local currencies - not just U.S. dollars, which is a major hurdle for American sites trying to go worldwide.
And what about that name? what does it mean? It is, Boo.com staffers say, one of the world's most popular names for cats; the phrase "miss boo" is sometimes used to describe a little girl; and in Amsterdam, "boo" is decades-old slang for marijuana. The word's vagueness is part of its appeal. "Boo," says one staffer with a Zen turn, "means nothing in 50 languages."
For the company's purposes, boo is also the name of what might turn out to be the site's secret weapon: Miss Boo, a 3-D shopping bot who can assist shoppers with everything from product questions to sizing. Miss Boo is something of an obsession for Leander, who jokes about the character's loose past: "She was in the Betty Ford clinic for a while, and she really likes guys." A chic stylist was brought in to consult on the bot's proper hair length, and a writer has been commissioned to create Miss Boo's history.
When Miss Boo becomes fully operational - probably some time this summer - she will enhance the site's product descriptions, sort of a sassy version of the mini-rhapsodies in the L.L. Bean (dossier) or J. Peterman catalogs. When a shopper brings up an enhanced, low-cut version of the Converse (CVEO) All-Star sneaker, for example, Miss Boo will say: "I'm definitely not a lady who lunches or a woman with a wardrobe the size of a house, but there's something about these classic pumps that brings out the Imelda Marcos in me. Give me a pair in every colour." She will also pop up as an avatar on other Web sites.
She can sound overreaching and a little corny - and if potential customers are turned off by Miss Boo, the entire project could be in jeopardy. By the same token, Miss Boo is part of a sophisticated, multilevel strategy that may well marry Web-community power with the social pressures peculiar to fashion success. Later in the year, Boo.com plans to introduce a line of seven "archetype" characters that make up Miss Boo's posse of friends. The precise outlines are still being decided, but the characters will be an internationally diverse amalgamation of the 30-plus "style tribes" that Boo's market-research team has identified.
"I want people to be able to see Miss Boo's friends evolve," says Alvarez, who has a Cambridge degree in the philosophy of language. "I want them to be obsessive, like Jennicam."
It is all rather like plotting an elaborate novel, and what else would you expect from a founder who ran a publishing company? Perhaps Boo.com's pinnacle is a magazine, called Boom. Although the company insists that the two entities are independent, each of Boo.com's offices will have an editorial staff. Hugh Garvey, an aspiring novelist, heads Boom's New York office. In a recent interview, Garvey wore a sleek, broadstriped blue suit, a far cry from the scruffy garb he favored not long ago as assistant literary editor for the Village Voice. Garvey says
