BUSINESSWEEK ONLINE: E.BIZ

TODAY'S MOST POPULAR STORIES

  1. Windows on a Mac: Virtually Perfect
  2. The Recession: What Top CEOs Are Thinking
  3. Apple's iPod Problem
  4. Auto Workers Give Up Notorious Featherbed
  5. November Job Losses Could Be Worst in 28 Years

Get Free RSS Feed >>
  MARKET INFO
DJIA 8376.24 -215.45
S&P 500 845.22 -25.52
Nasdaq 1445.56 -46.82

Portfolio Service Update

Stock Lookup

Enter name or ticker

 
 
 
 
 
BW E.BIZ: CLICKS & MISSES
BY ANN THERESE PALMER
May 5, 2000


A Beauty Site Marred by Endless Questions

P&G's Reflect.com tries to customize your shopping experience and ends up making it tough to buy cosmetics





WEB POINTERS
Read our review, then try the site:
Reflect.com


It should have been an easy assignment: Make a shopping list of cosmetics and buy them from Reflect.com, the much-hyped joint venture between Procter & Gamble and Redpoint Ventures Institutional Venture Partners, a Menlo Park (Calif.) venture-capital firm. Why the fuss? Because Reflect claims it customizes products based on customers' preferences, and skin and hair traits. It's billed as an unusual example of the Web's ability to marry the mass-produced and the custom-made, with careful service that harks back to a bygone, much less efficient time.

Or maybe not. My shopping list was simple -- moisturizer, lipstick, suntan lotion, nail polish, foundation, and shampoo -- but using Reflect.com isn't. Instead, it's as if Procter decided to be the Regis Philbin of e-beauty sites. If you're a game-show aficionado and love answering pointless questions about yourself, you'll love Reflect.com. But if you just want some lipstick, you might think about going somewhere else.

SWAN OR DOVE? That's because before being able to purchase anything, the customer must answer seven "fun" (translate: intrusive, off-the-wall, simply dopey) questions. One example: "The person I am closest to would say I most like to dream about living a glamorous life style; an activity that is both physically and mentally challenging; going for a sunrise walk on a secluded beach; a romantic homemade candlelight dinner for two." Another: "My personality is best represented by a peacock, a hawk, a swan, a dove." The best, though, is asking me what kind of house I'd like to be, if for some reason I were a pile of wood and bricks.

What does this have to do with purchasing lipstick? No one at a department store or any other e-beauty site has ever asked me this (nor have I ever been on Barbara Walters' show). Why does Reflect.com? The only clue comes from a sentence on the "Begin Your Experience" link, "...answer a few questions that will help our beauty experts personalize a web site that is best suited for you." But, that's not why I'm here, Reflect. I want cosmetics from brands I know at prices I like -- conveniently. The site should be easy and fast, like Amazon.com. If I can't find what I need easily, what's the point? Free samples I can use, too. Reflect says the questions allow them to custom-formulate products, but that's not something I need.

You might think that answering seven dumb but basically harmless questions is not a big deal, but you would be wrong. Completing the questions took me at least 30 minutes because the site is very slow. I registered in three different names and had problems getting through the customization process every time. An editor who checked for himself saw the site stop dead at a slightly later point in the process.

LIKE A GUINEA PIG. In our tests, the site's technology was as unreliable as it was cumbersome. I registered three times in order to evaluate how the personalized sites and products, packaging, and pricing I was offered differed. On Apr. 30, I tried to log on as a returning member. None of my three screen name/password combinations worked. I called customer service (which is only open from 11 a.m. to 11 p.m. ET-- so, good luck, West Coast after-dinner shoppers!) The customer-service rep answered promptly and readily admitted there are glitches in the system. The site had been completely closed down earlier on that Sunday.

The customer-service rep also discovered that some of my answers for each person weren't recorded. So, none of my three names were completely registered and, of course, none of my customized beauty profiles was really active. (I can, of course, never be compensated for the existential pain of the world's not knowing whether I would rather be a townhouse or a penthouse). Sometimes that happens when there's too much traffic on the site, she explained, so the customer has to answer the questions again. I felt like my sons' guinea pig on his wheel -- always moving, never going anywhere. When I complained she re-registered all three names for me. It took about 10 minutes.

My personal shopping space finally appeared. My personalized site didn't make me comfortable or eager to shop. I was tired and cranky, and hadn't even ordered my first product yet. When I did, there were more questions. For lipstick, I answer a total of 18 questions. At least, most of the new ones ask something about my skin type. One lipstick question presents me with seven shades of color, some impossible to differentiate using a standard monitor, and asks me to choose one. Surprisingly, for a customized product, only one question related to scent -- do I want one or not? Who knows how Reflect will figure out which scent I like or want? Maybe based on my answer to the bird question.

NO SAVINGS. This incessant question-asking delivers the opposite of the Internet's promise: time-consuming shopping that's no fun. To purchase moisturizer, I answer 10 more questions. For shampoo, there are a total of 12. As a result, buying the shampoo takes 35 minutes, one tube of lipstick takes 40 minutes, and the moisturizer 40 minutes. For your information, guys: This normally takes about 10 minutes in a drugstore or department store -- with in-person guidance on how to apply the product and free product samples tested on my skin to see how they look. At ibeauty.com, eve.com, and sephora.com, I found everything on my list in eight minutes or less, including completing the registration forms. At Reflect, I abandoned the rest of my shopping list and gave up. I had a headache.

Because Reflect sells only Reflect brand cosmetics, it's tough to judge whether the site saved me money. The Reflect.com lipstick was $12 for .13 oz. Scented moisturizer was $19.50 for 6.7 oz. At the Marshall Field near my home, the products seemed comparable and were priced the same or cheaper. A .14 oz. tube of Clinique lipstick was $12.50. Clinique moisturizer was $19.50 for 4.2 oz. And I can take the products home right away without waiting for shipping.

Bottom line: Reflect needs some introspection of its own. It should ask more questions of itself and fewer of its customers. The questions it asks should be more tightly focused on cosmetics, not demographics. Customers should be able to delete their personal information if they want to protect their privacy. The site should do a much better job of explaining products. Why, for example, should I prefer Reflect's lipstick to products from competitors like Clinique? And it should work fast enough to get me off the Web before midnight. After all, a girl does need her beauty sleep.

Ann Therese Palmer writes for Business Week from Chicago. She doesn't need cosmetics, since this little exercise gave her a red enough face to last a while.

Top