nudging your way into history

When visiting NikeTown in Boston, just a few steps past the door is all it takes to realize, as Sherry points out, that this is not a store, but a museum. It functioned much like a corporate museum would, trying desperately to legitimize its place in Boston’s prized local sports history, with bronze castings of Marathon runners crossing the finish line and Celtics jerseys lining the wall. This tactic of localizing a global enterprise is fairly clear; it facilitates the consumer-company relationship described by Sherry, and indirectly caters to the lofty goals and aspirations of the athlete. To the aspiring athlete, Nike becomes a tangible conduit through which to access success and notoriety, much like an art museum tries (albeit in a much less overt and overbearing way) to inspire by showing the work of the “best of the best.” For me, where the disconnect between store and museum happens is in the interactions between the consumer and NikeTown. On my visit, I was warned several times by vigilant employees that photography was not permitted inside the store. The proscription of photography seems logical when considering a museum atmosphere, where ambiance and the experience of the museumgoer are held as sacred, not to be disturbed by flash photography. In NikeTown, however, prohibiting photography seems to make less sense. The corporate image of Nike is one which would appear to encourage the association of “hype,” traditionally linked with sports events, to the unveiling and exhibition of new products. Photography is a means of fabricating excitement and interest in a subject that otherwise may not exist. This, in conjunction with the eager crowd surging into NikeTown to see the latest in athletic wear, is capable of giving the NikeTown Museum all the publicity it needs.