Running Through the Legs of Goliath

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The innovation-versus-practicality question is one that arises constantly at Method, especially as it's grown to 45 people and 50 outsourcing firms. It's a constant balancing act, the founders hoping for designs that disrupt but fearing designs that confuse or annoy.

The company has put in structures such as litmus tests for new products; a product has to be feasible--made to Method environmental, efficacy, and quality standards--and it has to be worth it financially. Lowry, Ryan, Ritch Viola, the vice president of marketing, and Gerry Chesser, the VP of operations, review "charters," which lay out a plan for products they're considering: scents, packaging, the launch timeline. They'll recommend changes on product assortment or cost range before the project officially kicks off. From there, every department gets involved, from engineering to marketing, with the brand manager--Aronson, in the case of the air fresheners--at the helm.

Right now, back at Method headquarters, Ryan, Aronson, and whomever they can corral for a minute are crowding into a passageway by a designer's cubicle. They were supposed to send the design for the plug-ins box out the door five minutes ago, but they can't decide what color it should be. They're studying a proof page that displays the box in chartreuse, as well as Pantone chips in various shades of green, and, when Jennifer Drubner, Method's PR chief, squeezes by, the grass-green color of her shoes.

"Our approach was spa bathroom," says Aronson, frowning at the brightness of the proof's green. She's tempted to move to a muted avocado color, but Ryan disagrees. "I like bright green," he says, stepping back for a different view. "It says color in action."

"I'm only this picky because I think when we--" Aronson says.

"It needs at least a hint of freshness," Ryan interrupts, then dashes to retrieve the green box from an iPod Shuffle from his cube. He places it next to the proof, and the colors are similar. Another onlooker insists that in mass market, you need a color that sticks out in the aisle. "That color is not fresh," Ryan says, shaking his head at the avocado.

"Color is crucial," says Aronson, whose gaze hasn't wavered from the color chips in 10 minutes. "You pick the wrong color, you compromise sales." They go with the bright green.

By December, all of the last-minute decisions have turned into real products. They've chosen the names of their four products, which, per Method norms, are a tad inscrutable. The line will include the plug-in, or "aroma pill" ("we're continuing to be playful in the category," explains Viola, "so we're not just saying fragrance, fragrance, fragrance--so the aroma pill, what's an aroma pill? But it piques your interest"); the battery-operated diffuser, or "aroma capsule"; the "air enhancer" spray; and the candle.

The inventory strategy is difficult. Because Method had never made these products before, it hired outsourcers who had. The candles' porcelain molds and the aroma capsule come from China; the base unit of the plug-in is made in Portugal, then shipped to Mexico, where glass casing is added. "We've got some real strange dynamics," says Gerry Chesser.

He's basing initial orders on sales of other air-freshener lines. But, given the long lead times of some items, he's made contingency plans. He's ordered extra Portuguese plug-in bases to have ready in the Mexico factory and extra candle molds that are now in Minneapolis, where the candles are filled. His theory is that overordering on parts is cheaper than having finished goods on hand. If parts arrive late, he's planning to hire two drivers for each truck to avoid driver hours regulations--or, if necessary, to ship by air.

Come February 12, the Method employees know what their roles will be. Aronson will update her Excel spreadsheets daily based on Target sales figures--and jot down ideas for version 2.0 of air care. Viola will talk to Target to see how everything's going, making sure the product is merchandised correctly via a store-monitoring firm he's hired, and he'll start selling other retailers. Dorward will work on international sales, and Drubner will compile consumer e-mails for the company to review. It's not the most sophisticated consumer-response system, but it's cheap.

The Method team is already questioning one decision, letting the plug on the plug-in stick out of its box. "In air care," says Aronson, "certain forms do not have strong product recognition, and with a form such as a plug-in, we want it to be instant--we want them to pick it up, look at the prong sticking out, and they've got it: It's a plug-in." This means special packing so the plugs won't get bent in shipment. But it looks a little awkward. Method realizes that, and it's already mocked up a bigger box and alerted the packaging company so it can switch if the original doesn't work.

Ryan and Lowry, too, know what their tasks will be come February 12. They'll be caught up in a tornado of still more launches. "In general, we've got more ideas on the table than we can execute," says Lowry. There's a foaming hand-soap launch scheduled for March, a redesigned laundry line for April, and two huge launches that will push Method into new categories later this year.

Even so, they will surely find the time to skulk down the aisles of a nearby Target just to see how their new products are selling and if they can spot any problems. Target doesn't like them talking to customers, but it's a tough habit to break.

Stephanie Clifford (sclifford@inc.com) is a staff writer.

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