Is sex no longer selling for Abercrombie & Fitch? Why today's teenagers are no longer seduced by once-hip chain's racy ads

Abercrombie & Fitch's famously sexy marketing strategy appears to be failing to woo customers as effectively as they once did.
The retailer, which is known for its preppy aesthetic, steamy Bruce Weber-shot campaigns and bare-chested models in-store, has seen revenue fall by 2.5per cent in the past six months, and its market value has dropped by a third.
It has been forced to close 71 stores in the past year alone, and between now and 2015, it has announced it will close a further 180 of its 1,055 stores around the globe.

'Vacuous': Industry experts say Abercrombie & Fitch is failing to move with the times and is not finding fresh ways to keep its target teenage market engaged

According to Business Week, Abercrombie & Fitch bosses have said that the poor economy is the reason for the falling sales, but industry experts believe that the chain is failing to move with the times and is not finding fresh ways to keep its target market engaged.
David Maddocks, a former chief marketing officer for Converse, told the publication: 'Abercrombie is still running an offense which is a huge banner of a bare-chested guy with a cute girl who’s not wearing enough clothing.

 

'It's vacuous, there’s no core idea there anymore,' he said.

Marcie Merriman, former director of brand strategy for Victoria’s Secret, added that teenagers today have a very different approach to fashion from those of a decade ago.
She explained that social media and style blogs have helped give them the impetus to develop individual styles, rather than sharing trend 'uniforms' with their peers.

Failing: Abercrombie & Fitch has been forced to close 71 stores in the past year alone, and between now and 2015, will close a further 180 of its 1,055 around the globe

'[Abercrombie & Fitch is] positioned well to take advantage of this group’s desire to be rebellious and indie and different, because that’s what the brand is about, but right now the product mix doesn’t communicate that or facilitate it,' she told Business Week.
The failing fortunes of Abercrombie & Fitch pose stark contrast with its heyday of the late Nineties, and much of the first decade of the new Millennium, when its preppy sweats and carefully-distressed denim were must-haves for high school and college students.
The allure of the brand was thanks in no small part to its quarterly catalogues, shot by top fashion photographer Bruce Weber.
A&F Quarterly had a circulation of 1.2million in 2002, and was so racy that shoppers were required to prove that they were over 18 years of age to buy them, and was branded 'soft porn' by critics.

Heyday: Preppy sweats and carefully-distressed denim were must-haves for high school and college students in the late Nineties, and for much of the first decade of the new Millennium

Shoppers were also drawn by the attractive models that staffed stores in the all-American vein of its ad campaigns; often male staffers manning the doors were bare-chested.
Teens' love affair with the chain died in 2008 though, when the recession hit, and competitive rivals, such as American Eagle, undercut its prices with cheaper and more varied versions of its wares.
But while American and European teens are no longer seduced by Abercrombie & Fitch, it seems markets in China and the Middle East are thriving.
A new Hong Kong store, which opened this month, saw sales of over $1million in its first five days of trading.

So that's what attracted David Gandy... Sarah Ann Macklin stuns in sensual new shoot (as she reveals they first bonded over Jenga)

She's managed to bag the world's first male supermodel.
But David Gandy's new girlfriend Sarah Ann Macklin is out to make sure everyone knows she's by no means inferior.
The dark-haired model has now revealed exactly what attracted the chisel-jawed Gandy to her as she posed in one of her most sensual photo shoots to date.

Sensational: Model Sarah Ann Macklin shows the world why male supermodel David Gandy has fallen for her charms in a new shoot for Esquire magazine

Macklin has appeared in a spread for the upcoming issue of Esquire magazine.
And she certainly gives David a run for his money with the sensational shots, which sees the Portsmouth native revealing her curves.
She only has a revealing black lace bra covering her modesty as she lays back and smoulders at the camera for photographer Lee Broomfield.

Smouldering: The model shows off her flesh for the stunning new pictures as she also opens up about her first date with Gandy

In another image her tanned and toned limbs are accentuated as she wears just a tiny pair of knickers with a racy black leather jacket, revealing her cleavage.
Plenty of bare skin is on show as she vamps the look up even more in some over-the-knee leather snake-skin look boots.
Sarah also displays her flawless skin and chiselled cheek bones as she opens up about dating her beau.
The pair have known each other for years but after he split from The Saturdays singer Mollie King they crossed paths at a party earlier this year.

Happy couple: It's no wonder Gandy is smitten with the model, who he's been spotted out on numerous dates with over the last few months

She explained to Esquire (where her brother works as entertainment director): 'We’d known each other for a few years, but at your Bafta party, we just clicked…'

Opening up: Sarah talks to Esquire's October edition

Although their first date was far from what you'd expect as their was no glamour in sight... just a competitive game of Jenga.
She added: 'Yep, we ended up playing six rounds of Jenga! It actually got quite competitive.'
And Macklin even insists their home life is far from glamorous, claiming it's all about 'walks in the country, and dogs'.
Before dating Macklin, Gandy was in a relationship with Mollie King for 10 months, until they parted ways in February.
And following his break-up, David revealed his suspicions about getting involved again, saying being as 'perfect' as himself gets in the way.
The 32-year-old recently told Men's Health magazine: 'My perfectionism can make it difficult. I know my ex-girlfriend struggled. Things have to be perfect – everything in the house, every car I buy. That’s incredibly hard to live with if you don’t understand it.
'If either a relationship or my work must suffer, then I’m afraid it has to be the relationship'. 
But things appear to be going from strength-to-strength for his latest union as they have often been snapped out on dates together.
In June they were even spotted looking loved-up as they attended the same fashion event as Mollie.

The full pin-up photo shoot appears in the October issue of Esquire, on sale Monday 3 September. Also available as a digital edition.

Old flame: Gandy with former girlfriend Mollie King of pop group The Saturdays

She's on the mend! Corrie's Samia Ghadie goes for a stroll with boyfriend Will Thorp following her wrist operation

Yesterday she tweeted that she was 'frustrated without the use of her right arm' but it seems that Samia Ghadie is on the mend following an operation on her wrist.
The 30-year-old Coronation Street star was spotted out and about on Tuesday with her former onscreen boyfriend Will Thorp who she has been dating since last year.
Despite her wrist being bandaged up, Ghadie had a big smile on her face as the pair went shopping in Wilmslow, Cheshire.

On the mend! Samia Ghadie shows off her bandaged arm while out and about with her boyfriend Will Thorp this week

Wearing blue skinny jeans, a yellow T-Shirt and black pumps, the actress held hands with Thorp and was seen gazing at him lovingly.
The 35-year-old actor had also dressed down for their day out, wearing blue jeans, a checked shirt and trainers as he carried a shopping bag.
It is unknown just how long Ghadie's recovery will be and if she will be wearing her bandage on the set of the ITV1 soap.

Happy lady: Despite recently having an operation on her wrist, the actress appeared to be in good spirits

Writers may be forced to include it in the script if she has to wear it for some time, but the mother-of-one is certainly looking forward to getting back in front of the camera.
Earlier on today, she tweeted: 'Just reading new scripts... Soo excited to film these eps!!!'
Ghadie has played Weatherfield resident, Maria Connor, since 2000 and perhaps some of her upcoming storylines involve a new romance following the breakdown of her relationship with Thorp's charcater, Chris Gray

Matching pair: The couple chose to wear blue jeans for their shopping trip in Cheshire

Anything Cher Lloyd can do: Gaga’s perfume featuring fragrance notes of blood and semen is top seller at Superdrug beating Beyonce and Madonna

She is famed for her eccentric style and personality so when Lady Gaga announced she was launching a new perfume with fragrance notes of blood and semen nobody was very surprised.
What is surprising though is that her debut fragrance Fame, which contains notes of blood and semen, has become the number one best-selling women’s fragrance at Superdrug just a week after hitting the shelves.

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Advanced fragrance technology means that the dramatic looking black liquid turns clear as soon as it is sprayed in to the air, and the bottle is pure Gaga: black and gold featuring gilded monster claws.
Scroll down for video

Best-seller: Whilst Cher Lloyd's new fragrance took the top spot over at The Fragrance Shop, Lady Gaga was Superdrug's resident hero

This unique perfume concept has translated in to ringing tills for team Gaga, the £23.99 parfum has already sold more than both Beyonce and Madonna's fragrances did in their first week of launch.
Sara Wolverson, Superdrug beauty director said: 'Lady Gaga is a true original and she has brought something completely new to the fragrance market.

 

'While initial reports promised slightly scary fragrance notes the actual perfume is sophisticated, floral, addictive, moreish and sexy which paired with the black liquid and dramatic styling is truly original.
'We knew Lady Gaga would be popular but have been astounded by the rush to be the first to buy the fragrance.'

Eccentric: In true Gaga style, the perfume boasts a quirky mixture of semen and blood fragrance notes

In her perfume campaign, Gaga is seen reclining with an arm behind her head, while holding the perfume in her other hand.
Scantily clad men - who have been shrunk to miniature size - are strategically placed over her body to save her blushes.
Renato Semerari, president of Coty Beauty, said: 'She is an artist that is never satisfied with the status quo - she always has this way of challenging everybody and trying to do something more, something different.'

HOW DO YOU CREATE FAME? THE SCIENCE BIT ...

This crushed-floral fragrance is characterised by its unique black formula that turns invisible when airborn, The mix of opulent ingredients includes poisonous flower Belladonna, sweet honey drops, saffron and apricot.

The black-to-clear fragrance is a fantastic innovation of patent pending fluid technology and has a unique structure called the "push-pull technology," where the ingredients interact together to highlight different olfactive aspects of each note at the same time, without any hierarchy.
The scent is built around three main accords: dark, sensual and light.

The rich floral layers of crushed Tiger Orchid & Jasmine Sambac work together to create a fragrance of floral and fruity elements.

My sausage shot across the table at the Queen. Her Majesty raised an eyebrow: Clare Balding on her eccentric childhood as daughter of Elizabeth II's racehorse trainer

A tourist once stopped me on London’s Oxford Street and asked the way to Selfridges. I pointed him in the right direction and then found myself adding helpfully that it was two furlongs away.
Well, it made sense to me, growing up as I did as the daughter of a champion racehorse trainer. At our home in Hampshire, no one read a proper newspaper or watched the news.
Nuclear war could have broken out and it would have gone unnoticed — unless it meant that Royal Ascot was cancelled.

Animal crackers: A young Clare Balding, the daughter of the Queen's racehorse trainer, cuddles up to her best friend Flossy

My father Ian was particularly blinkered. He trained several of the Queen’s horses, and one Sunday in May 1979 he telephoned Buckingham Palace to give Her Majesty his regular weekly update on their progress.
He was put straight through as usual and, after he had finished his briefing, the Queen asked what he thought of  Margaret Thatcher being elected as the country’s first female prime minister earlier that week.
Dad was only aware that the election had taken place because  betting on the outcome had been covered in Sporting Life, and he had given it little thought — as was clear from his reply.

 

‘Well, it’s going to take a while to get used to a woman running the country.’
Honestly, that’s what he said. To the Queen.
If she thought my father was a loose cannon, heaven knows what she made of my own behaviour one April morning in the early Eighties when I was 12 years old.
‘Wotcha!’ I shouted as I charged in from riding my horse Hattie.  Tugging off my boots in the dogs’ room I skidded along the cork floor into the kitchen where our daily Mrs Jessop was carefully placing bacon and sausages on to my  mother’s smartest china dishes.

Riding high from an early age: Toddler Clare on a horse with her father Ian

Sitting at the table were two men in suits. I thought perhaps someone had been murdered and that these two were in charge of the investigation. I had been watching Bergerac and that was just the sort of thing that was always happening in  Jersey, so why not at our stables in Hampshire?
I flung open the dining-room door and, in my haste, fell into the room. I was wearing my green-cord riding jodhpurs, with stains from two weeks of wear, one red sock and one blue, my favourite rugby shirt and a spotted handkerchief around my neck. The Queen was sitting at the head of our dining-room table, dressed rather more soberly in a navy-blue dress coat.
My father had omitted to tell my younger brother Andrew and me that Her Majesty was making one of her twice-yearly visits to our yard, and my entrance had caused a break in the conversation — one of those uncomfortable silences you always hope will not happen because of you.
And then it does, and there’s not  a lot you can do except say:  ‘Sausages! Yummy!’
I had rather missed my moment to curtsey so I sat down at the table and carried on as if nothing was any different. My father glared at me as I smothered my toast with marmalade and topped it with sausages cut long-ways, a delicacy I’d discovered on a family trip to America.
The trouble with cutting a sausage long-ways is that if you press too hard, it’s a bit like squeezing a bar of soap. The sausage can shoot out of your grasp. I know this. I know this only too well.
I can still recall in slow motion the way my sausage shot across the table towards the Queen as she sipped her tea. Quick as a flash, I tried to grab it. I knocked over the milk jug. My mother yelped. My father growled. The Queen glanced at me and raised an eyebrow.
I froze, wishing I could crawl under the table. My brother seized the sausage and shoved it back on my plate. My mother mopped up the milk with that look in her eye that said: ‘You are in so much trouble.’
Our home at Park House Stables, near the village of Kingsclere, was originally bought by my maternal grandparents in 1953. Their 1,500 acres of land adjoined Watership Down and included the lush green gallops on which horses had been exercised since Victorian times — among them the seven Derby winners who had put Park House on the racing map.
My father joined the business as my grandfather’s assistant but took over following his death in 1964. He married his late boss’s daughter, my mother, five years later.
They moved into a modern house about half a mile up the hill, while Park House, the magnificent  building at the heart of the estate, continued to be occupied by my grandmother.
A formidable presence throughout my childhood, she came from a  family of statesmen, prime ministers and patriarchs, and was the granddaughter of the 17th Earl of Derby. Robust and 6ft tall, she wore no make-up, believing it to be ‘for tarts and prostitutes’.
She had once been a competent horse-woman but gave up when the side-saddle was discarded, refusing to countenance the idea of riding ‘astride’, or of women wearing  jodhpurs. She didn’t much approve of women full stop, hence her  reaction when I arrived in the world in January 1971. ‘Oh,’ she said. ‘It’s a girl. Never mind, you’ll just have to keep trying.’

Horseplay: Clare, who became the face of the London Olympics, with her parents, brother Andrew and their Shetland pony Valkyrie

As for my parents, the pecking order in their eyes was clear. Dad was always too busy working to take much notice of me or my younger brother Andrew, who came along the following year. And in terms of affection and attention, my mother’s boxer dog Candy came first — and anyone else, new baby included, came second.
Candy was the only one who seemed pleased to see me. The day when I first came back from hospital, Mum put the basket down on the floor and left me there. Bertie, my father’s lurcher, aloof and with pretensions to grandeur, had a quick sniff and demonstrated exactly what he thought of it all by cocking his leg on the side of it.
He then walked off with his head stuck in the air, never to give me a second glance.
Candy, on the other hand, planted herself next to me and there she stayed, a strong, snuffling, steady presence who became my nanny and my friend.
She lay by my side, moved only if I moved and allowed herself to be a living, breathing baby-walker. I used her to climb to my feet, wobbling on my plump, short legs as she pulled me gently forward.
When the strain got too much and I collapsed on to a nappy-cushioned backside, she would sit and wait for me to get going again. Although Candy was my protector, she was not my dog. She belonged to my mother, and my mother belonged to her. So when she had her first litter of puppies, I attached myself to the one who attached herself most strongly to me.

'I can still recall in slow motion the way my sausage shot across the table towards the Queen as she sipped her tea'

We named this puppy Flossy. She liked to suck on my chin and my earlobes as I held her up to my face. Sometimes we would just fall asleep together in the corner of the  puppies’ pen.
Spotting early on that animals got all the attention in our family, I worked out that it would be best to be a dog. A photograph of me as a toddler shows me wearing a  studded leather dog collar, my  homage to Flossy. I saw myself as part of Flossy’s pack, curling up with her in her bed and drinking out of her water bowl.
I tried sucking on the odd Bonio biscuit too, but they weren’t quite sweet enough for my taste.
I started to ride at roughly the same time that Candy taught me to walk. My first mount was Valkyrie, a sweet-natured old Shetland pony given to my parents by the Queen shortly after my birth. Valkyrie was round and fluffy with a tail that trailed the ground and a long dark-brown mane.
When my parents placed me in a soft, red, leather saddle on her back, I knew that this was where I belonged. I was born to ride.
This confidence persisted even after my mother made the mistake of entrusting me to my father’s care one day when I was two and a half.
He put me on Valkyrie then handed her over to Billy, one of the young boys working in the yard, smacking her on the backside as we trotted off. Billy didn’t much care for the task of childminding and did not look back to see that I was bumping along, hanging on for dear life.
As we gathered speed, I couldn’t keep it up. I fell off and lay in a crumpled heap in the middle of  the field. I cried all the way home as Billy held me back in place on Valkyrie. My mother took one look at my face, which had turned quite pale, and knew it must be serious.

Parental influence: Clare followed in her father's footsteps by becoming a jockey

Clare interviews her father Ian, one of the most respected racehorse trainers in the country, responsible for training the Queen's horses after 'his beautiful boy' won in 1995

‘Make your own lunch. Gone to hospital with Clare,’ read the note  she left for my father later that day. ‘PS You are a bloody idiot.’ My parents’ friend Dr Elvin worked in Accident & Emergency at the nearest hospital in Basingstoke. He told Mum that I had broken my collarbone.
‘Should take a couple of weeks to mend,’ he said. ‘Can’t do much more than try to control the pain, and  I’d advise you, Emma, not to let  the children anywhere near Ian.’
Andrew and I came to know Dr Elvin well. As he predicted, my  broken collar-bone healed quickly but we would return to Basingstoke’s A&E several times in the coming years.
On one occasion, I persuaded Andrew to climb some straw bales in the barn, and he fell 20ft to the ground, breaking his leg. Shortly after that, I managed to spear my foot with a pitchfork.
More injury followed our move to Park House after Grandma decided to relocate to a smaller place just across the road. Andrew and I knew this move was in the offing because we heard our parents explaining it to the dogs.
The two of us revelled in our new surroundings but I was soon causing trouble, using old tyres, doors and branches to set up a Grand National assault course on the huge flat lawn. This was not for our ponies but to teach Barney, our beloved lurcher puppy, how to jump.

'In that moment I discovered in myself the competitiveness that later drove my ambition to become a champion jockey, a dream which would one day see me incurring the wrath of none other than Princess Anne'

I struggled to keep up with him as he ran from ‘Becher’s Brook’ to ‘The Chair’, the latter a door balanced precariously on two croquet hoops. Barney sailed over but I caught the door, breaking my big toe.
When it came to the real Grand National, Andrew and I would pick two horses each, and our mother would phone up to place bets on them for us. We would then put on our knitted jumpers in racing colours, our hats and our goggles.
We sat on each arm of the sofa, a whip in hand, and rode ‘our horse’ for the whole race. If he fell, we too had to fall to the floor, rolling around until we miraculously mounted our second-choice horse and rode to the finish on him instead.
Of course, the sofa was no substitute for the real thing and, when not being geed up by thoughtless humans, Valkyrie proved patient and wise, a proper Shetland pony schoolmistress whose first job was to teach me manners.
She had no time for tantrums, shouting or foot-stamping. If she thought I was not behaving well, she simply backed me into the wall of the stable and pinned me there until I calmed down. This could take minutes, it could take an hour, but she wouldn’t budge until I had settled down and said sorry.
Valkyrie had taught both Prince Andrew and Prince Edward how to ride, and had no doubt trodden on their toes and backed them into the corner of the stable, too. She was her own woman and would not be subject to anyone — Royal Family or commoner. I suspect this is why the Queen was so fond of her.
Whenever she came to see her racehorses, Valkyrie and I would also be presented for inspection. At the end of the line of gleaming, fit, polished blue-bloods, with their lads in spotless matching jackets and caps, would be this little hairy Shetland pony with her equally scruffy-looking rider, neither of whom ever quite got the hang of the curtsey.

Written her memoirs: The TV presenter, who has been busy covering the Olympics, right, and now the Paralympics, left, has written a book about her childhood with each chapter based on a family pet

The Queen smiled, crouched down and always had a long chat with Valkyrie, who generally remained well behaved.
That was more than could be said for me. One day my mother found Andrew and me in the kitchen with Valkyrie. I was brushing her mane as she tucked into a bowl of cereal. ‘What is going on?’ my mother demanded.
‘She’s come in for some lunch,’  I said matter-of-factly. ‘Look, Mummy, she loves Shreddies. She’s really comfortable. She wanted  to see where we live and we couldn’t stop her.’
It was bad timing. I’m convinced my mother was coming round to the idea of Valkyrie having lunch with us every day, but just then the pot-bellied pony lifted her tail and dumped a steaming pile of poo on the kitchen floor.
My mother did not raise her voice very often and when she did it  was scary.
‘Take her back to the stable,’ she shouted. ‘Right now.’
‘Can’t she finish her Shred –’
‘She most certainly cannot.’
I pulled Valkyrie’s head, with difficulty, out of the bowl and trudged out of the kitchen with my pony reluctantly in tow.
By the time I was six and a half I was too big to ride Valkyrie any more, and she was eased into retirement. I would like to think that I wept into her mane and thanked her for the years of delight she had given me — but I didn’t.
I was like a magpie moving from one shiny thing to another, and I quickly switched my affections to Volcano, the prettiest and whitest pony I had ever seen. 

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At our first gymkhana together, we won four rosettes, and we would have won five except my mother insisted I duck out of the last event to give the other children a chance.
I was forced to watch from the sidelines as a little boy called Harry took the prize that was rightfully mine. I should have been flooded  by the spirit of generosity but I wanted to scream with the unfairness of it all.
In that moment I discovered in myself the competitiveness that later drove my ambition to become a champion jockey.
As I’ll tell you in Monday’s Mail, that was a dream which would one day see me incurring the wrath of none other than Princess Anne.

'I am in tears': Pregnant supermodel Adriana Lima desperate to locate Ivy, her beloved Maltese dog

She's currently nine months pregnant with her second child.

But pregnant supermodel Adriana Lima is in tears over her other baby, Ivy, the white Maltese dog she adopted eight years ago.

The 31-year-old Victoria's Secret Angel has spent the last few days in a desperate search for her beloved two-pound pooch, taking her flier to Twitter, Facebook, and local news outlets.

Canine crisis! Pregnant supermodel Adriana Lima is in tears over her other baby, Ivy, the white Maltese dog she adopted eight years ago that went missing Tuesday

'I feel really like I lost a child,' Lima told Fox News.
'It's a really hard time for all of us. You know, she's been with us for so many years...If anybody finds her, please, give us a call because she means so much to me and my family.'

There's already been 94 shares, 203 comments, and 809 likes on her Facebook post, and Brazilian beauty tweeted that she was 'in tears' to her 554,000 followers.

Ivy was last seen Tuesday morning two blocks South of the new Marlins baseball stadium, which is located in the Little Havana neighborhood of Miami, Florida.

Find Ivy: The Maltese was last seen Tuesday morning two blocks South of the new Marlins baseball stadium, which is located in the Little Havana neighborhood of Miami, Florida

The dog was in the care of friends when it slipped out the front door of their home.

Adriana originally left for New York in order to give birth to her second child with her Serbian basketball player husband Marko Jaric.

The couple already have a two-year-old daughter named Valentina, whom was born prematurely due to Lima's preeclampsia.

And the five-foot-10-inch stunner's lost dog will probably only aggrivate her preganancy hypertension.

If you have any information on Ivy's whereabouts, call Miami-Dade Crime Stoppers at 305-471-TIPS.

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