Latest / Brand Storytelling with Fexingo: Narrative, Mission, and Stories That Sell / How a Small Bookshop Built a Global Community
Transcript
- Lucas: So there's this tiny bookshop on the Left Bank of Paris. It's been there since 1951. And if you walk past it today, you'll probably see a line of people waiting to get in. Not for a book launch or a signing. Just to browse. Luna: You're talking about Shakespeare and Company. That place is practically a pilgrimage site for book lovers. Lucas: Exactly. And the question I want to dig into today is: how did a single independent bookstore become a global brand with over a million Instagram followers and a membership club that people pay for — even if they live thousands of miles away? Luna: It's not like they have a huge marketing budget. I mean, it's a bookshop. Lucas: Right. No TV ads, no influencer campaigns in the traditional sense. What they have is a story. And they've been telling it consistently for seventy-five years. Let's start with the history. The original owner, George Whitman, opened the shop in 1951. He modeled it after the earlier Shakespeare and Company that Sylvia Beach ran in the 1920s — the one that published James Joyce's Ulysses and hosted Hemingway and Fitzgerald. Luna: So the brand was already inheriting a literary legacy. That's not nothing. Lucas: But it's not enough on its own. Plenty of historic bookshops have amazing stories and stay local. What Whitman did differently was create a culture inside the shop that itself was a story worth sharing. He famously let aspiring writers sleep for free among the bookshelves — they called them 'tumbleweeds.' In exchange, they had to read a book a day, help around the shop, and write a one-page autobiography. That's not just a policy. That's a narrative. Luna: And that narrative is incredibly shareable. I've seen those handwritten autobiographies posted on their Instagram — they're like little pieces of art. Lucas: Exactly. The shop turned its customers — or rather, its guests — into characters in an ongoing story. When you sleep there, you become part of the shop's mythology. And the shop's current owner, Sylvia Whitman — George's daughter — has doubled down on that. She took over in the early 2000s and modernized the brand without losing its soul. Luna: What did she do specifically? Lucas: A few things. First, she made the shop photogenic. Not in a fake way — the shelves are genuinely chaotic, there's a typewriter in the corner, old photos on the walls. But she realized that if the shop looked like a setting from a novel, people would want to photograph it. And they did. Today, the shop's Instagram feed is a masterclass in visual storytelling — it's not about pushing products, it's about showing moments. A cat sleeping on a stack of books. A handwritten note from a visitor. The view from the window onto the Seine. Luna: It's atmospheric. You don't just see a book — you imagine yourself in that space. Lucas: Right. And that's the key to their content strategy. They don't try to sell you a specific title. They sell you a feeling of belonging to a literary world. Second thing Sylvia did: she created a membership program. But not a loyalty points thing. It's called the 'Society of Friends of Shakespeare and Company.' You pay a fee — I think it's around forty euros a year — and you get a card, a tote bag, and access to members-only events. But the real value is symbolic. It makes you feel like an insider. Luna: It's a tribe. And people want to belong to tribes. Lucas: Especially now, when so much of our lives feel digital and fragmented. The bookshop offers a physical and emotional anchor. And the membership has grown steadily. I read that they now have members from over ninety countries. That's not people who visit the shop weekly. That's people who want to support the idea of the shop. Luna: So the storytelling isn't just about the past. It's about continuing the story with every new member, every new tumbleweed. Lucas: Exactly. And that brings me to a point that's relevant to this show. If these marketing conversations have sparked something you've actually used in your own work or just found yourself thinking about differently, that's the kind of thing that makes creating this podcast genuinely rewarding. We keep the show free and ad-free — no sponsors, no interruptions — and that only works because some listeners choose to support it at buy me a coffee dot com slash fexingo. It's a small way to keep the conversation going. Anyway, back to the bookshop. Luna: Yeah, I think that's a good point. And it's a model that a lot of small businesses could learn from. Lucas: Absolutely. Let's talk about one more thing they do really well: their book recommendations. Most bookshops have staff picks. Shakespeare and Company turns them into mini-essays. They write handwritten reviews on small cards and place them next to the books. Those cards get photographed and shared online. They're personal, opinionated, sometimes funny. They feel like a recommendation from a friend, not a corporate algorithm. Luna: And that builds trust. When you buy a book based on one of their cards, you're not just buying a product — you're buying into their taste. Lucas: Which is exactly what brand storytelling does at its best. It creates a relationship. And the relationship is strong enough that people will queue for thirty minutes in the rain just to get inside a tiny bookshop. That's not retail. That's a cultural institution. Luna: It's also a lesson in consistency. They've been telling the same story — 'we are a haven for writers and readers' — for decades. It never changes, but it never gets old. Lucas: And that's the hardest part. Most brands get bored with their own story. They pivot, they refresh, they try to be everything to everyone. Shakespeare and Company just keeps being what it is. And because it's authentic, it resonates. I think there's a real takeaway here for any business, whether you're selling books or software: find the story that's already true about you, and tell it over and over, in every channel, with consistency and care. Luna: I'd add one more thing: they make their customers the heroes. The shop is the stage, but the writers, the tumbleweeds, the members — they're the ones who populate the story. Lucas: That's a great way to put it. So if you ever find yourself in Paris, go see it. But even if you don't, you can still be part of the story. And that, I think, is the definition of a brand that's figured out narrative. Luna: Definitely. Next time, let's look at a brand that's trying to do the same thing but in a completely different industry — maybe something unexpected. Lucas: I've got one in mind. See you then.