Moleskine makes fabulous notebooks.  They’re these small, no-frills, hardcover notebooks that are well-made, easy to carry, durable and sexy.  I’ve been in love with them for a couple years now, enough to spend the ridiculous $15 per notebook over and over again.  I buy into the product and the brand.  I’ve experimented with the lower-cost knock-offs, and I come back to moleskine products again and again.  They won me over with a superior product, and they’ve made me into a perfect, loyal customer who’s enthusiastic about their product.

And then the MBA grads seem to have taken over Moleskine’s product strategy.  The company originally produced and sold one basic product–a simple, unlined journal.  The business-school-case-study thinking points in a clear direction:  expand your userbase by releasing similar products, produced using the same techniques and sold through the same distribution channels.  The next products were simple enough:  lined journals.  Graph-paper journals.  And then it began to get weird.

One of the business development staff at Moleskine must have called a series of brainstorming meetings on “redefining the journal.”  Within a year, Moleskine started releasing specialized journals for everything someone could possibly want a journal for.  There’s dog journals, for writing about your dog.  Recipe journals, for writing about recipes that you like.  Tokyo journals, for writing about your experiences in Tokyo.  I’m sure each of these journals only costs a couple thousand dollars for an intern to design, and the cost to put another journal into production must be marginal.

Soon, Moleskine started releasing every possible combination of notebooks. Notebooks packaged together.  Moleskines in various colors.  Product-focused moleskines.  Lifestyle-focused moleskines.  Co-branded moleskines.  The moleskine display rack in stores grew and grew.  As of September ’11, there were about 100 unique products in a moleskine rack.

The irony, of course, is that this expansion is completely obnoxious to the bread-and-butter moleskine customer.  It actually takes five or ten minutes of sifting through the piles of uselessly branded moleskines to find the simple, original journal.  The added logistical difficulty of keeping a hundred different products on shelves means that the notebooks I want are often out of stock.  But what I really don’t understand is what moleskine, the business, gains from this craziness.

It seems like moleskine is chasing small, niche groups of customers, in the hopes of capturing users who don’t identify themselves as journal-keepers.  In the business developers’ minds’ eyes, dog owners worldwide are wandering aimlessly through bookstores, flipping through the journal section, and pausing as they find the expansive “dog journal” section on the moleskine rack.  ”Hmm,” the dog owners say to themselves, “I’ve been having lots of thoughts about my dog, but I haven’t had a good place to store them.  Maybe I’ll keep them in this convenient little book, which has helpful labels for different types of dogs thoughts.  Look!  If I have thoughts about my dog’s behavior, I’ll jot them down in the ‘behavior’ section!  Thoughts about it’s diet?  There’s a ‘diet’ section!  At long last, I’ve got a way to organize my little doggy thoughts.  I’ll take eight!”

Honestly, I can’t imagine how many incremental customers moleskine gets for every incremental product.  Someone at the company seems to be infatuated by the low incremental cost to add another product, but they don’t really do anything other than to produce a random notebook and shove it on a rack.  There’s no advertising, no way to educate users about a new product, presumably because the advertising cost would dwarf the additional revenue that the advertising would drive.  Maybe this flood of products is a kind of alpha-beta test to see which notebooks actually sell.

Unfortunately, it seems to be working.  Moleskine is sold in stores around the world.  They have over 400 products sold on their web store.  I see them everywhere.  The company’s been around for fourteen years, and shows no signs of stopping.  I know people who swear by their products.  It’s just so strange to see a company drown out its popular flagship product in a quagmire of poorly differentiated, niche products.  I’m simultaneously disgusted, confused and amazed.

I live out on Lamma Island in Hong Kong.  It’s pretty great.  Twenty-five minutes from the most developed place on the planet, there’s an island with no cars, where they don’t allow any buildings taller than a palm tree, no McDonalds, farms, squatters, beaches and more nature than you can shake a stick at.  Also, we have a 4GW coal powerplant that everybody loves.

Of course, you can’t live on a lovely tropical island and get google streetview.  Lamma is kinda confusing to get around for the first time, and there’s no good online maps, so Amit and I took a bunch of photos to show you what you’ll see on the ten-minute walk from the ferry pier to my house.

First of all, the ferry to Lamma leaves from Central Ferry Pier number 4.  Here’s a schedule:  http://www.hkkf.com.hk/index.php?op=timetable&style=en Two ferries leave from that pier–one goes to Sok Kwu Wan on Lamma, and one goes to Yung Shue Wan.  Sok Kwu Wan is Cantonese for “I wanted to go to the other place.”  You want to go to Yung Shue Wan.

It’s a twenty-five minute ferry ride.  Once you get to Lamma, everybody will pour off the boat all at once and walk down the one road.  You might as well follow them–it’s either that or go for a swim.

Once you get down the pier, you’ll walk past a seafood restaurant.  If you look slightly to your right, this is what you’ll see:

Keep on walking.  If you walk backwards past the garbage dump, you’d look like this:

uh-oh!  Don’t go this way.  Keep going where everybody else is going, along the main street.

Here are three pictures of what the main street looks like, so you know what to expect:

After a little while, you’ll come to a mini-crossroads.  Don’t wander into the back alley

Go this way instead!

You’ve got another five minutes of walking.  Here are some things that you’ll see as you walk:

Sometimes, pizza milano is open, too.  It’ll be on your left.  Get yourself a slice!

Somebody thoughtfully collected a bunch of iron bedframes, just for you!

Here are lots of signs to confuse you:

You’ll pass Brother’s grocery shop on your left.  This is a pretty famous shop on Lamma.  Most people will know where it is, so if you get lost, ask someone where Brother’s is.

Here, Amit is showing you the proper way to not wander up the hill.

Here’s another closed shop:

You’ll walk up a little hill.  Near the top, you’ll see this sign on your left:

There’s a little road at the top of the hill, next to a bunch of trash cans.  Take a right down that road.

After 15 seconds, you’ll take another right.  Amit will show you the way.  He’s Gujarati.

The guy who invented the idea of a city grid fell to the ground, convulsing in agony when he came to Lamma.  Everything is kinda jumbled.  That’s ok.  You’re really close.  Keep it up!

Look out for the tiny little troll that lives under the tiny little bridge

And take a right as soon as you cross the bridge

There’s a couple of houses, and then my house is right after them.  There’s a little alley on your left.  It looks like this:

You made it!  Thumbs up to you too, Amit!

Now, walk in the gate.  The dogs are named Bambi and Bobo.  They like to run around in a panic barking like idiots.  Don’t let that get to you.

Well, you made it to my house, so stop reading my blog and come on upstairs.  Give me a call at 6032 9714 if you got confused somewhere along the way!