Planet LuLu

In 1998, Planet LuLu put the Private Sale on the map! Not very humble of me? Yikes. I’m feeling unusually candid this morning; perhaps it’s the second self-made expresso! Don’t worry, they’re “singles,” not doubles.

Candid? Does this mean I’m not candid at other times? Nope. I’m normally so reserved that for me, being “brazen, blunt, or blurting out” is not my usual M.O. But facts are facts, and I’m just stating the… facts. And this morning, after two gruesome shots, I’m ready for some big-truth. The BIG candid. By the by, did anyone see the final episode of, “Big Love?” Yeehaw! Good stuff. Waiting for the return of, eeeew, Dexter!

How can a Private Sale truly be private any more? When LuLu started, we didn’t advertise. People told other people, and that’s how we grew. Private, by definition, is something not known by everyone. So, today’s “private” is a gimmick?

What wasn’t private about LuLu? Welp, the dressing rooms were communal. The licorice jar had everyone’s hands tugging a vine or two. Hmm. There was NO privacy once you were inside the LuLu loft. None. Zero! It was a good-kinda-no-private.

Online LuLu? Well, checking out is private and safe-guarded. We still don’t advertise. We don’t sell or share your email addresses or “private” information. We’re open just a few days a month. In order to know about LuLu, to register, you need to know someone who has signed up. In the early days, it wasn’t about “marketing,” or a ploy to look cool — this “private” concept. We just wanted LuLu to be special, different, unique. Is it? I’m working my humble here — it’s not for me to say.

Candidly (here we go again), every time I receive an email from another private sale — and that’s ten a day — it’s some new gimmick. My favorite is, “I’ll pay you $10 for every person you send to us.” REALLY? Let me tell you a story:

This is embarrassing, but true. When I was a little girl, I was woefully insecure. I struggled to make friends. For the sake of fact, my best friend was a turtle named, Sammie. My years in elementary school were brutal. I wore glasses, wasn’t remotely cool or hip, even in a “kid” sorta way.

One day, with the coolest kid in class walking right behind me to the cafeteria, I accidentally-on-purpose, dropped my lunch money ($5 bucks). When the cool-kid picked up the loot, I said, “keep it.” Yes, that’s what I said. To this day, I’m ashamed of that. Oh-the-trauma!

Yes. I was trying to buy a friend. It didn’t work. The cool-kid insisted I keep the money, and that Ms. Coolio never spoke with me again, even as we moved into Junior and High School together. On an ironic side note: The very same person contacted me on Facebook last year; they wanted to be my “friend.” Dang! That took how many years before they forgot what a knucklehead I was? Wild!

Moral of the story? Don’t buy your friends — and if you have to buy your customers (with anything other than great service, fabulous prices and a candid story — you’re likely doing something wrong.

Private Sales? LuLu is still private. We may not be the biggest private sale any longer, but we here, and our motto, our sensibilities, our original model of who we want to be is rock solid. The question still remains: Can a private sale that blankets the web with ads still be called a “private sale?”

See you on the Planet