By Kristen Bahler

When you walk into the Madison Avenue Bonobos, don’t expect to walk out with anything.

Sure, you can try on a pair of pants, or about a dozen different gingham work shirts, but when you pick your favorite, there’s no cashier to ring up your purchase, no line to stand in, nor shopping bags to haul it home.

Instead, Joshua Jones—you call him Josh—swipes your card on his iPad and offers you a bottle of Perrier “for the road.” If you’re not in a rush, he’ll help you rank Jessica Alba movies, or chat about your upcoming vacation. Within a few days, your clothes will arrive at home, shipped from a warehouse in Massachusetts.

Josh isn’t a sales associate. He’s what the upstart menswear company deems a “guide.” He knows the intricacies of menswear intimately (style, fit, comfort), and has a client book of regulars who trust his taste. On a recent weekday afternoon, he convinced Phil, a new customer, to try on a pair of olive trousers he ended up buying. After Phil rushed out the door to make a business meeting, Josh made a mental note to follow up with him by email to make sure there’s no buyer’s remorse.

“I make it easy for them,” Josh says. “People say all the time, ‘I hate shopping. You made this enjoyable.’ ”

Josh doesn’t work on commission. When he hands you that sparkling water, remembers your kid’s name, or waves to you through the store window, it feels sincere. At past retail jobs, employers encouraged him to upsell constantly, and to adhere to strict styling guidelines. Here, things are a little different.

Bonobos is a newcomer to the brick-and-mortar game and is betting on a new trend called “experience shopping,” a catchall term that has come to define physical spaces that seek an emotional connection with their customers, and a relationship that goes beyond a fitting-room handoff and debit card swipe.

As industry giants move their operations online, shuttering stores and shedding thousands of employees, Bonobos and other brands that offer experience shopping are taking the opposite approach. The company started as an e-commerce men’s pants store in 2007 and branched into physical spaces five years later, adding suits, dress shirts, and other clothes that cost about the same as those at any retailer that targets the upper middle class. But while a dress shirt at Bonobos will run you about $98, just like a shirt at J. Crew, the retail climate for those two brands has been radically different. This year, as J. Crew, loaded with debt, announced closings and staff layoffs, Bonobos announced a string of new stores. Today there are 44 physical “guideshops” in the U.S. and about 300 guides.

For Josh, this job isn’t just a paycheck or a placeholder for more meaningful work. At 25 years old, he wants to manage his own brand one day. When he first interviewed at Bonobos, the general manager who hired him asked about his five-year plan.

“I was kind of shocked,” Josh recalls. “And then he said, ‘I want to help you get there.’”

Josh’s story might seem a little strange. Eight years after the recession, charismatic college graduates aren’t supposed to be working in retail—and they’re definitely not supposed to like working in retail.

And yet, as these jobs teeter on the brink of what pundits have dubbed the “retail apocalypse,” Josh and a fleet of new, energetic employees are taking up the fight.

Together, they’re challenging everything you think you know about shopping.

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