An iconic Aussie brand, a budget battler’s sanctuary and a brilliant photo op – it’s no surprise that the $259 million takeover of The Reject Shop by Canadian retailer Dollarama earlier this year sent ripples of anxiety up and down budget aisles nationwide.
Then a week or so ago, Dollarama chief executive Neil Rossy popped up in the media again – this time keen to share his “vision” for the chain’s 390-plus stores, which included removing the familiar red-and-yellow iconography and replacing it with a green-and-gold palette and shiny new name: Dollarama – effective immediately.
Then-prime minister Tony Abbott walks past The Reject Shop in 2015.Credit: Alex Ellinghausen
It didn’t take long for those ripples to turn into a giant wave of discontent. Shoppers flocked online to voice their distress, with 74 per cent of more than 12,700 readers polled by Yahoo Finance calling for the name to stay.
Sure, Aussies love a bargain, but as I too hit “stay”, I couldn’t help feeling that Dollarama was messing with more than just signage – this was sacred turf. And, no, not just because of those classic, accidental PM photo ops under the big yellow REJECT sign.
Launching in South Yarra in 1981, armed with the charming sales tactic of “stack it high, kiss it goodbye” and the “all you need is loose change” slogan, the Melbourne-born budget booster quickly established itself in the retail landscape.
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To a teenager of the 1980s living in the north-western suburbs, The Reject Shop held an undeniable gravitational pull. Walking inside those doors with my bumbag jangling with coins (thanks to a summer job) I knew I’d find … well, something cheap and fun, but totally necessary.
Of course, it was some years ago and memory is fluid – as was, and is, The Reject Shop’s catalogue – so I can’t say with any certainty what I did walk out with, but I certainly would have been met with a cornucopia of choice, if this Australian Financial Review article from the early 1990s is anything to go by: “A recent Reject Shop catalogue promoted tracksuit pants, a compact disc rack, underwear, corn chips, packaging tape, toilet cleaner and spaghetti jars. Prices ranged from 50 cents for a bar of Lux soap to $40 for a pair of rollerblades.”
If I channel my 16-year-old self today, it’s likely I would walk out clutching pink lip gloss and a few packets of out-of-date Hubba Bubba, wearing a big smile on my face.
