M&S: a tale of knickers, rivalry and office politics

BROUGHT TO BOOK: Marks & Spencers, the British retail giant is better known in this country as the purveyor of ready-made meals to suited and booted singles, and the cause of Bridget Jones moments in their private lives through its signature sensible white cotton knickers.

The Rise and Fall of Marks & Spencer Judi Bevan Profile, £7.99stg

In Britain, however, it was a national institution, revered for its uncanny ability to give the public exactly what it wanted, backed up by a rigorous adherence to its motto of quality, value and service.

However, in the mid 1990s something went badly wrong and how this happened is a tale of hubris, rivalries and an inability to understand just what the fabled white knickers represented.

Vicki Woods, former editor of Harper & Queens and long-time M&S fan, put her finger on the root cause when she wrote: ". . . the M&S quality was unrivalled. Knickers, tights, blouses. boots, jumpers, T-shirts, those curious garments called bodies that fastened under the crotch for neatness at the waistline - all from M&S."

However, by 1998 all this had changed. "I nipped into Newbury M&S. . . and found myself drifting around the clothing racks out of habit. There was nothing. Nothing. Horrible little suits in cheap fabrics and hordes of acrylic polo-necks."

What had happened to "the quasi-public service" with its unerring rapport with the great British public?

Top management had become complacent, riven by rivalries and office politicking personified by deputy chief-executive Keith Oates's failed coup attempt.

There were grumblings from below about perks such as chauffeur-driven limousines for senior management, over-use of the company jet for routine travel and a lavish lunching culture.

All this was ignored as the chief executive and proud technophobe, Richard Greenbury, ruled with an iron fist and had lost his shop-floor instincts.

His strategy of letting his four likely successors battle it out had backfired as decision making became sclerotic and he brooked no argument or advice.

The 20-man board rendered decisions almost impossible to arrive at and Greenbury pooh-poohed the increasing complaints of his executives' wives who pointed out that service, range and quality had fallen leading to scraggy hemlines and woollens that lost their shape after the first wash.

In the end, M&S appointed Belgian Luc Vandevelde as executive chairman, restructured its core product - the British retail end - under Roger Holmes and canned international expansion.

It addressed the quality issue and introduced the Autograph range, aimed at introducing a boutique element to its vast floor space.

M&S this week said it believed it had "turned the corner" as it reported a 31 per cent jump in profits for the past year. It remains to be seen whether it will recover the status of beloved institution.