I already knew before stepping foot onto Takamatsu Airport that the place was going to be pretty ordinary.
What I didn’t expect was a crowd to be swarming the Royce’ Chocolate corner at the duty free shop. The brand’s signature boxed chocolates sold out before boarding even started.
Royce’ Nama chocolate, a delicacy considered to be one of the more palatable—and thus more covetable—souvenirs representing Japan, is a favorite amongst South Korean travelers. Royce’ was previously available in Seoul. There is (obviously) a price difference between Royce’ chocolate bought in Japan vs. Korea, with the latter being double that of the former. So it’s not too hard to see why Korean travelers would bring back boxes of Royce’ from Tokyo, Osaka, Hokkaido, etc.
Then the No Japan Movement struck and Royce’ announced in early 2020 that they would be pulling out from Seoul. While the causality between the two events isn’t official—the brand never gave a clear reason as to why they were shutting down all of its Seoul stores—it doesn’t seem too farfetched to draw links between the two. Either way, the boxed chocolate became even scarcer.
Typically, when a brand physically disappears from sight, its presence suffers a similar demise as people’s memories of it recede into oblivion. Out of sight, out of mind. Yet Royce’ seems to have somehow skirted around this sad Bing Bong fate.
Typically, when a brand physically disappears from sight, its presence suffers a similar demise as people’s memories of it recede into oblivion.
A large part of Royce’s resilience on the presence front can be attributed to the brand’s reputation as “the Chocolate that you need to bring back from Japan”. Simply put, it’s a no brainer for South Koreans—how could you forgo the chance to get your hands on luxe chocolate for nearly half the price? Add another layer of scarcity onto this self-rationalizing consumerist mentality and kaboom. A duty free legend is born.
It’s been nearly four years since Royce’ bid Seoulites sayonara. The chocolate’s popularity has all but waned within the same time period. My co-worker gifted me a box just three months ago and I bought a few myself yesterday. This might prompt some to raise—and quite righteously so—the question of why Royce’ withdrew from South Korea in the first place if there’s such high demand. I don’t have the numbers to back up the claim that Royce’ sales were minimally affected during the No Japan wave; demand for Royce’ may or may not have been inelastic during this politically tense phase. However, what I can say is that the public’s perception of Royce’ as the go-to Japanese brand for souvenir shopping hasn’t changed since the brand’s disappearance. Royce’ still reigns supreme in the land of indulgent duty free shopping.
Ironically, Royce’s unwavering popularity may have been bolstered by the closing of Seoul’s distribution channels. A caveat: what follows is speculation on my part. I don’t think Royce’s sales in South Korea were ever too high to begin with, even before the No Japan boycott wave gained traction. I can’t see that many people dropping $20 on twenty pieces of chocolate on a regular basis. In other words, Royce’ was already shrouded in an aura of opulence before it distanced itself further from Seoulites. This image of tantalizing yumminess became even further cemented once Royce’ became a brand only purchasable in Japan (technically you can still order it online through channels like Coupang—the Korean Amazon but better—but you get my point). The democratically inaccessible became straight up unattainable.
Nevertheless, what Royce’s popularity insinuates to us is two-fold but simple.
People gravitate towards brands they recognize
Public perception of a brand rarely changes
To a certain extent, Royce’ may be the beneficiary of a highly saturated tourist market. Shelves at duty free stores are stacked with a sundry of brands that are foreign to us both culturally and personally. Against a deluge of products, Royce’ is bound to stand out. Locating a familiar brand fills people with a sense of reassurance—akin to that moment when you go to a party and you spot that one friend you kind of know amongst a sea of strangers. “I know her/him!” (conscience: do you really?). Familiarity is comforting and so we proceed to perpetuate the tradition of siding with the people aka the brands we recognize. We are able to do so because of the belief that the friend/brand we choose to associate ourselves with will embody our expectations of them. And for the most part, the brands we align ourselves with do. The essence of a brand—the core that makes them recognizable—rarely succumbs to the ebbs and flows of time. Such non-changing elements are the basis of recognition.
Thus, when we position ourselves, our narratives, our products, we should always be mindful of how we want to be recognized. What permanent image do we want to engrain into the audience’s memory? Royce’s longevity as a brand is contingent on its image as a Japanese souvenir bought to pamper family and friends; as long as trips to Japan are viable, Royce’s popularity is everlasting.
Building recognition takes time, but once established, fuels long-lasting relationships with fans who co-create a brand’s legacy.