But when I got into the nitty-gritty of placing the order, it wasn't exactly convenient to take my measurements--all 11 required, some of them a bit, er, personal--while standing in front of my computer in the office. So I printed out all the instructions to allow me to measure myself in the privacy of my own home that night. It took me about 45 minutes to work my way through all the choices on the Web site. What material did I want? There are 100 fabric and color combinations from which to choose. Brass rivets? Copper rivets? What type of fit? It was sort of fun at first but quickly became laborious. The next day I mailed off my check for $80.60. Ordinarily, the company says it delivers in two to three weeks, but my deadline required a rush order. That I achieved only after tracking down the company's telephone number (the Web site requests only E-mail contact and does not offer a phone or fax number), calling the company, and, reluctantly, identifying myself as an Inc. reporter.
With visions of inspiring the envy and admiration of my colleagues and friends--"Did you lose a few pounds? Wow, you look great!"--I anxiously waited for my custom-fitted jeans to be shipped to me. They arrived 12 days later.
The verdict?
The jeans were comfortable overall and the material of good quality. But I wasn't wild about the style (I found it a bit masculine for my taste), which is the only one offered on the site. And the fit? Well, not custom perfect--a touch short, in fact. That is probably entirely my fault: I goofed in taking the measurements. (For example, the Web site instructs you to measure your knee bent, and I mistakenly measured it straight.) All considered, the jeans were probably no better or worse than a pair I might have bought in a store. When I queried InterActive Custom Clothes Co. about the fit, it swiftly reminded me of the company's policy: for half price it would make another pair that I might be happier with. I declined. To me, it wasn't worth spending another $40 when I could buy a regular pair of jeans for the same price. -- Karen Dillon
Producing Unique Goods--and Headaches
Custom Foot Inc., based in Westport, Conn., has a secret weapon: an infrared scanner that measures feet. The scanner operates in 3-D and translates data into one of 670 shoe sizes. Once the company knows the exact dimensions of a customer's feet, it fills the order at a high-tech factory in Italy or Maine. By all rights customers should love the results.
But when Custom Foot activated its scanner in 1996 and started selling shoes, many customers complained. "What we found was that it might have been the 'right' size, but customers didn't like the fit," says James Metscher, the company's CEO and president. "It was too big or too small--whatever. We had to redo lots of shoes, and it was costing us a ton of money." Metscher had the scanner replaced. The new scanner advises three possible sizes for each foot it measures. And before an order is finalized at one of Custom Foot's five stores, a customer tries on the three sizes and expresses a preference. Returns of shoes have fallen sharply since the change, according to Metscher.
His experience illustrates a basic tenet: the flow of precise information from customers to companies dealing in customized products or services is crucial to their success. When information is lacking or misleading, it can undermine the whole rationale for a customized purchase.
When it began operations, a year ago, Philadelphia-based Acumin Corp., which blends vitamins in accord with on-line responses to questionnaires, learned a similar lesson. The replies were often too vague, leading to "value judgments and some guessing to fill orders. It ate up a lot of staff time," says CEO Brad Oberwager, 28. So he substituted a series of computerized yes-no questions and installed $25,000 worth of software, allowing the company to crunch the answers effectively and specify a correct vitamin regimen for each customer, Oberwager says. --M.B.
The End of Discounts?
Writing books about the virtues of mass customization is becoming something of a cottage industry. Martha Rogers, co-author with Don Peppers of Enterprise One to One: Tools for Competing in the Interactive Age, spoke recently with Inc. staff writer Marc Ballon:
Q: Isn't mass customization somewhat similar to what the craftsmen of yore used to do?
A: In a way, a company that mass-customizes is building the same one-to-one relationship with its customers that shop owners and craftspeople once had. Of course, shop owners and craftspeople carried databases of dozens or hundreds of customers and their preferences in their heads. Technology allows companies to keep track of millions.
Q: What's the advantage?
A: First, there's a huge reduction in inventory. Mass customization allows enterprises to charge more for their products, because they are giving customers something they cannot get anywhere else. Mass customization means you don't have to discount.
