Virgin Megastore — Killed by Downloads, Then Evicted for the Rent
Summary
Virgin Megastore was Richard Branson's grand statement about how entertainment should be sold — vast, loud, theatrical temples of music, movies, and games — and in the spring of 2009 every one of its stores in the United States closed. The first American Virgin Megastore opened on the Sunset Strip in Los Angeles in 1992, and the chain went on to plant flagships in the most expensive retail real estate in the country: the Times Square location that became the highest-volume music store in America, and the Union Square store a few miles south. At its 2002 peak the US chain ran about 23 stores and took in roughly $230 million a year. These were not mere shops; they were destinations, with listening stations, DVDs, books, and a scale designed to dwarf the mall record store.
What undid them was, first, the same digital tide that drained every music retailer. Album sales fell nationwide for most of the decade as file-sharing and then Apple's iTunes taught customers to buy single tracks, or nothing at all. By 2009 the six remaining US Virgin Megastores were generating about $170 million, down sharply from the peak.
But the final blow was real estate, and it is the part that makes the story unusual. In 2007 the chain's US operation was bought not by a retailer but by its own landlords — the developers Related Companies and Vornado Realty Trust. They held the leases on the most valuable Virgin locations, where Virgin paid rents locked in years earlier at a fraction of the going rate. The owners did the math and concluded the stores were worth more dead than alive: a higher-paying tenant would earn them far more than a music chain could. Forever 21 took the Times Square flagship. The Virgin Megastore was not so much defeated as repossessed.
Timeline
The Cathedral of Music
Branson's Virgin Megastores were built on a simple, expensive conviction: that buying entertainment should be an event. Where the mall record store was a rack of CDs near the food court, a Virgin Megastore was tens of thousands of square feet of music, film, games, and books, with listening posts, in-store appearances, and a deliberate sense of theater. When the format worked, it worked spectacularly — the Times Square store became the single highest-volume music store in the United States, a tourist landmark as much as a retailer, drawing crowds that bought CDs by the armful in the back half of the 1990s.
The model's strength was also its exposure. A store that grand needs a great deal of expensive real estate, and Virgin put its flagships in Times Square and Union Square, on Sunset Boulevard — addresses that command some of the highest rents on earth. As long as customers streamed in to buy physical music at full price, the format more than covered its costs. The format had no margin for a world in which the physical music stopped selling and the rent kept rising.
When the Music Stopped Selling
That world arrived on schedule. Napster had already normalized free music by 2001; the iPod gave it a home in the pocket; and Apple's 2003 iTunes Store made paying $0.99 for a single track the new normal, collapsing the album that had been the music store's basic unit of profit. Recorded-music sales fell nationwide in seven of the eight years that followed — a slow, grinding decline driven, as industry observers put it at the time, by illegal file-sharing and by the simple shift to buying songs rather than albums. A chain whose whole proposition was a vast room full of CDs was selling the one thing the market had decided it no longer needed to leave home for.
By 2009 the toll was plain in the numbers. The US chain that had run about 23 stores and $230 million in revenue at its 2002 peak was down to roughly six stores and about $170 million. The Virgin Megastore had not collapsed outright — its surviving flagships still moved real volume — but it was a shrinking business in a category in structural decline, holding onto a handful of trophy locations whose value lay increasingly in the floor space they occupied rather than in the music they sold.
Worth More Dead
This is where the Virgin story departs from the others. In 2007 the US operation was acquired by Related Companies and Vornado Realty Trust — real-estate developers, not music men. Crucially, they were already the landlords on Virgin's most valuable stores. And here was the catch buried in the leases: Virgin had locked in its rents years earlier, at rates that the soaring Manhattan retail market had left far behind. By one account, the Times Square store paid around $54 per square foot in a market then commanding roughly $700. The store was still profitable, reportedly earning something like $6 million a year on around $55 million in sales — and that profitability was precisely the problem, because it was built on rent the landlord could no longer bear to keep charging.
The owners ran the arithmetic that any landlord would. A new tenant — Forever 21, in the event — would pay many times what Virgin paid, and turning the property over would earn far more than continuing to operate a music store into a declining market. As the chain's chief executive bluntly acknowledged, the companies figured they could make more money handing the properties to higher-paying tenants. So on March 2–3, 2009, it was announced that every remaining US Virgin Megastore would close. The Times Square flagship — the busiest music store in America — went dark in April, the rest by summer. About a thousand store employees lost their jobs. The Virgin Megastore in America was not bankrupted by its operations; it was evicted by its own owners, because the empty store was worth more than the full one.
The Five Factors
Aftermath
The closures put roughly a thousand store workers and dozens of corporate staff out of jobs in the spring and summer of 2009, in the teeth of a recession. The flagship spaces were swiftly re-let — Forever 21 took the Times Square store — and the landlords realized the higher rents that had been the entire point. Branson's Virgin brand carried on in music, mobile, and travel ventures elsewhere, and Virgin Megastores survived abroad under franchise in markets such as the Middle East, but the American chain, and its great theatrical stores, were finished.
The lasting mark is as a study in retail real estate. The Virgin Megastore's American end is the clearest case in the genre of a chain killed less by its own losses than by the value of the dirt beneath it — a profitable store closed because the floor it stood on was worth more empty. It sits alongside the other music-retail casualties of the late 2000s, but with a distinct epitaph: where the others were undone by their income statements, Virgin in America was undone by its balance sheet, and by landlords who happened to own both.
Lessons
- Do not build a retail format whose only advantage is scale in a category technology can dematerialize; when the product goes digital, a bigger store is just a bigger liability.
- Treat trophy real estate as the heaviest of fixed costs, not a badge — the most prestigious address is the first to become unaffordable when demand turns.
- Never let your landlord become your owner without understanding that your store has just become an option on its own square footage, exercisable the moment a richer tenant appears.
- Remember that a below-market lease is a subsidy with an expiry date; the larger the gap to market rent, the stronger the incentive for someone to take that value back.
- In premium markets, measure a store against the best alternative use of its floor space, not just against competing retailers — profitability is no defense if the space is worth more as something else.
References
- All Virgin Megastores in U.S. to close The Hollywood Reporter
- Times Square Virgin Megastore To Close Billboard
- Like a Virgin Megastore, shut for the very last time Salon
- Virgin Megastores Wikipedia