Singapore retail needs a rethink, not a eulogy
For over a decade, Singapore's retail has been haemorrhaging, caught between rising rents, labour crunches and digital disruption. Covid-19 pressed fast-forward on that trend: Consumers retreated online and landlords clung to pre-pandemic rents; leading to retailers getting caught in a perfect storm of higher costs and lower margins.
But before we mourn the death of brick-and-mortar, let's pause and reflect. Retail isn't dying; it's evolving. The question is whether Singapore wants to evolve with it.
The risk of irrelevance
Cinema chains such as Filmgarde have exited. Global brands from Topshop to Times Bookstore and Robinsons have folded. At the same time, suburban malls are populated by cookie-cutter chains offering the same bubble tea, fast fashion and pharmacy experience.
Beyond transactions, retail shapes the cultural and social rhythm of a city. But today, other than a few lifestyle precincts such as Jewel and Funan, the Singapore retail experience is flatlining. And when landlords and tenants alike play the short-term rental game, innovation gets priced out.
More than bad news for shopkeepers, a hollowed-out retail sector hurts tourism, urban vibrancy, employment and even Singapore's soft power as a regional trendsetter.
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The problem isn't just retail economics. It's vision – or the lack of one.
The China playbook: What we can learn
This is why the new initiatives at the Singapore Retailers Association (SRA) matter. New leadership brings fresh eyes. And one of their first moves is partnering with Singapore Management University (SMU) to send a study team to China.
Why? Because if you want to understand retail reinvention, China is the lab.
Companies such as Xiaomi, Huawei, DJI, and BYD aren't just selling electronics or cars. They're turning their brand ecosystems into experiential retail platforms – where visitors interact, test and share.
And developers like Coastal City in Shenzhen aren't building malls. They're building day-to-night, content-led, lifestyle micro-cities.
As one participant, Lionel Tan, ecommerce director at Singtel, commented: 'The Shenzhen trip reaffirmed that true innovation starts with understanding what customers value. Companies like Tencent, Pagoda, and Kingdee showed how artificial intelligence (AI), data and product-led thinking can transform retail into a deeply personalised and intuitive experience. This is exactly what Singtel hopes to build: journeys that resonate, designed around people, not just platforms.'
Beyond space and layout, China also leads in one underappreciated area: intellectual property (IP) merchandising and promotional gifting.
From Pop Mart's blind-box figurines to Tencent's League of Legends merchandise and Chagee's collectibles, there's much proof that Chinese firms are masters at turning brand assets into physical extensions of identity and loyalty. These aren't afterthoughts – they're part of the core brand strategy that prioritises storytelling.
Done well, promotional gifting and branded merchandise are footfall drivers, retention tools and social media bait rolled into one. Singapore's retailers have much to learn from this playbook.
Ultimately, it's about content, community and experience.
SRA's role in the new era
Singapore lacks neither talent nor infrastructure. What it needs is orchestration.
For any of this to succeed, SRA must evolve from a traditional industry body to become the industry's chief convener and provocateur – one that can convene retailers, landlords, the Urban Redevelopment Authority (URA), Enterprise Singapore, and even the Singapore Tourism Board (STB) to co-create the next chapter.
This could mean:
Working with URA to rethink retail zoning for more pop-up and mixed-use formats;
Partnering with landlords to pilot experiential zones, where return on investment is measured not just by rents, but by time spent and community value;
Collaborating with STB to reposition Singapore as more than a shopping hub, but an experience lab; and
Supporting local and regional brands with market entry via incubation spaces, digital integration grants and AI-enabled retail analytics.
As Clement Yew, director at AutoStore put it: 'To stay competitive and thrive, retailers must embrace and embark on digital and automation transformation. This will equip retailers to optimise their operations and enhance productivity, leading to a more sustainable and profitable business model. And SRA should lead this charge.'
Rethinking success: From sales per foot to stories per visit
Singapore's malls do not need more shops. They need more stories.
Living brand experiences already exist in China: Miniso's global flagship store in Chengdu allows customers to design their own merchandise and interact with AI-powered retail displays. Bosideng's tech-enhanced concept store in Shanghai combines fashion with immersive experiences, enabling shoppers to customise winter wear using augmented reality mirrors and thermal simulation zones.
Singapore has the ingredients to do the same – and better.
Concurring, SRA representative Bryan Woon said: 'The future lies in creating experiences, not just transactions. And SRA's mission is to rally retailers, landlords, and policymakers to reimagine the retail landscape together, so that Singapore remains not only a shopping destination, but a place where brands, culture and people connect in meaningful ways.'
Shopping as culture, not mere commerce
Beyond simple purchases, retail is where culture meets commerce, where memories are created. Singapore's challenge is rediscovering its own retail identity, not fighting e-commerce.
The good news? Green shoots are emerging. The SRA reboot, government support for digitalisation and a growing appetite for curated experiences suggest momentum is building.
But time is short. If Singapore doesn't act, others will fill the void. So, retailers, landlords, planners and policymakers, let's not write an obituary for Singapore retail. Let's write its next chapter.
After all, malls may fade, but magic doesn't have to.
The writer, a seasoned economist, adviser and entrepreneur, is an affiliate lecturer at Singapore Management University
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New Paper
7 hours ago
- New Paper
'The cult of durians is real': The S'pore merchants live selling on TikTok
When Mr Raay Lim started selling durians in May 2020 during the Covid-19 circuit breaker, he expected the long hours and physical toil, but not the non-stop yapping that would come to define his job now. Growing up, communication was never his strong suit. He had a habit of stammering and stuttering, so a career as a live streamer was the furthest thing from his mind. He went into the durian business to facilitate conversations, not lead them. "I started out because my grandma loved durians a lot. Every durian season, we'd lay out the newspaper, sit and eat together. It's something I'll always remember. So, I hope that by starting my business, I'll be able to replicate these family moments for other people," says the 32-year-old Singaporean owner of Zen Zu Fu Durians, which operates from a kerbside stall in Tiong Bahru. He set up shop first in Queenstown, then Sin Ming and Bedok, and finally Tiong Bahru. But each successive neighbourhood proved no warmer than the last, with residents reluctant to leave their homes during the pandemic. "It was very hard to build up a neighbourhood base. You need to give customers a reason to choose you over other more established stalls." To a young newcomer like him, it was clear that the traditional model of business - a bricks-and-mortar stall, steady base of neighbourhood regulars - no longer cut it. The answer, then, lay online, on the one app that was taking over the world: TikTok. Live selling has helped Mr Lim reach new audiences. ST PHOTO: KELVIN CHNG In June 2023, Mr Lim logged on and started live selling durians for the first time. It turned out to be the right move. About 70 per cent of his revenue now comes from TikTok Shop, where mao shan wang is priced at $50 a 500g box - the same as de-husked durians at his physical stall. He estimates that he racks up six figures in total in TikTok Shop sales during the main durian season in June. The harvests in December and March yield more modest returns. Other enterprising thorn sellers started to do the same, lured by the platform's sprawling reach and quick commerce. Over the last year, the app has yielded a bumper crop. The number of durian sellers on TikTok Shop grew by some 40 per cent, while gross merchandise value surged 185 per cent year-on-year, according to the company. Sellers such as Mr Josiah Jeremy Seow of Golden Moments Durian Cafe in Bugis and Mr Tony Seah of Vlack Durian in Bukit Batok also tried to catch the wave over the last couple of years. "The era of business has changed, and we have to adapt and enter the streaming arena," says Mr Seah, a 41-year-old Singaporean. He launched Vlack in 2020 and started live selling in June 2024. The results were remarkable. By the following year, revenue had risen by 40 to 50 per cent. A 400g to 450g box of mao shan wang sells for around $60 on Vlack's TikTok Shop, 10 per cent more than at the physical store due to charges such as platform fees. Because his store is in an industrial estate, online outreach is a necessity. "We can't attract thousands of customers daily with just our physical store, but on TikTok, we can get thousands to learn about our brand." Mr Tony Seah's shop, Vlack Durian, is located at an industrial space in Bukit Batok. ST PHOTO: DESMOND WEE For seasoned live streamers like Ms Emily Tan, who goes by @EmObsessed online, durians have also proven a risky - as perishable foods tend to be - but lucrative trade. She had heard that durians were one of the easiest things to sell online, with a higher eyeballs-to-sales conversion rate than other fruit. "At first, I was like, are you serious? Who buys durians on TikTok? I thought you'd want to get a feel or try the durian. But after doing one live stream, I realised the cult of durians is real," says the 32-year-old Singaporean of her first live stream with Zen Zu Fu in April. She usually touts family-centric products online such as Zappy wipes. She sold a five-figure sum from four hours with Zen Zu Fu, slightly more than the mid-four-to-five figures she usually generates from selling other products online. Friends first Online, the prickly product cannot speak for itself. It demands a personable host: charismatic, knowledgeable and ready to talk for hours. On Mr Lim's live streams, conversation ranges far beyond durians, running the gamut from routine exchanges - "How are you" and "Have you eaten?" - to deeper concerns, like the rising cost of living and how to help friends with mental health issues. The sessions can run for up to six hours. Sometimes, he chops durians concurrently. But multitasking can be exhausting and dangerous, so he takes occasional breaks from physical work to engage his viewers. "I would say it's 20 per cent selling, 80 per cent chatting," he says, taking care to differentiate himself from sellers who urge customers to just "buy, buy, buy". "To do business, you must first build your community. When people know your sincerity and who you are, they are more likely to buy from you. The way I approach the live streaming is by thinking that maybe we can be friends first." Mr Lim believes in first building rapport with customers before selling them anything. ST PHOTO: KELVIN CHNG It seems to have worked. Viewers hang around for an average of two hours - for him, not the durians. Singaporean Ng Shu Huai, for example, has been following Zen Zu Fu's TikTok live sales for a year now. The 39-year-old, who works in the supply chain sector, tunes in every day after work and on weekends. "Raay's quite funny and the chats are always light-hearted, which helps me unwind after a long day," she says. "What keeps me coming back is Raay's honesty and sincerity. He never hard sells and remembers viewers' names, preferences and where they live." On the other hand, she adds, buying in person can be quite intimidating. It is a sentiment Mr Lim says many millennial and Gen Z customers share, which is why he thinks TikTok has helped him reach a new demographic. "Durian sellers can be intimidating in terms of their voices being loud. It's a bit hard to go down to their shop and speak to them because a lot of people can give into this kind of pressure." On TikTok, however, the customer is king. Order a box if you like what you see. If not, just swipe past. Honesty is the best policy Ms Tan is not one to beg for business. Her style, she maintains, is transparent and honest, not pushy. She adds: "If a customer says, 'Emily, I can't decide between red prawn and mao shan wang', some sellers will say, 'Buy both.' "But I'll be like, 'Ask yourself if you want to eat something sweeter or a bit bigger? And you can just purchase one. If it's good, next time, you can come back.'" Also emphasising candour, Mr Seow describes his style as educational. He starts by delving into the different types of durians and their tastes in an engaging monologue, sprinkled with facts and examples. For instance, he might explain why the price of durians is going up or break down what a bumper crop means for Singaporean buyers. "When they know that we know our stuff, that's when we establish trust and rapport," says the 36-year-old, who founded Golden Moments in 2017. Online, his durians are priced from $22 to $38 for each 400g box. Golden Moments Durian Cafe owner Josiah Jeremy Seow expanded his business to TikTok in 2023. ST PHOTO: BRIAN TEO The live streaming at Golden Moments runs from 1 to 10pm every day, with shifts divided into two- to three-hour long blocks hosted by in-house staff or a roster of about 20 freelancers it cycles through. Mr Seow is conscious of the difference between online consumers and those who patronise his physical store. Shoppers on TikTok are more price-conscious, as the platform allows them to compare the cost across various stores at once. "They tend to be more critical about the brand and product because they can see how many boxes have been sold and what a store's rating is like before making a decision to buy," he notes. In response, he has tightened customer service, ensuring that chats are replied to and deliveries made on time. The durians are usually delivered within 90 minutes, as promised on its TikTok page, affording quick gratification. Vlack's Mr Seah takes a similarly informative approach. He introduces himself, answers questions, discusses the season's forecast and guides viewers through the types of durians in a manner that is "very direct, very clear". Trust, in his case, is built by keeping the camera trained on a box of golden flesh, with a member of his team de-husking durians in the background. "We're a premium durian specialist, so we believe in flexing the quality of our durians, instead of attracting people by showing our faces," he quips. Because TikTok Shop accounts for 70 per cent of Vlack's sales, the team live streams from 3 to 10pm daily. Mr Seah admits that it can get tiring, even when live-selling duties are shared among his team of six. Does he ever run out of things to say? "No, I love to eat durians. So, I'm doing what I like on a daily basis." Thorny side of TikTok Not every part of the process is sweet, however. The rush hour, which is usually from 5 to 8pm and brings a surge of around 50 orders, always gives the team a bit of a headache - albeit a happy one. It has to manage expectations, keep track of deliveries, get durians to customers within two to three hours, as well as soothe the ruffled feathers of those asked to reschedule their deliveries, should stocks run out. And if any box fails to meet expectations, customers are urged to reach out to Vlack's service recovery team. "Durians are so expensive. We don't want customers to eat lousy quality durians. Just reach out to us. Don't be afraid, we're very friendly," he assures. The Vlack Durian team takes turns to live stream its durians on TikTok Shop. ST PHOTO: DESMOND WEE But refunds occasionally pose a challenge to Mr Seow. "Some customers are a bit harder to deal with, they're obviously there to troll. So they will tell you that it's very bad, but when you ask for photos and videos, they don't want to send. Then how do you justify the refund?" Sellers on TikTok Shop must respond to refund requests within one working day, but can reject a request on grounds of lack of evidence or if the product is "used, damaged or removed from the original packaging". Then there is the emotional exhaustion of having to continually pump out good vibes. While Mr Lim can usually feed off the energy of 50 to 100 viewers, his live stream has its quieter moments too. "The toughest thing is motivating yourself when there are no viewers," he says. "You have to talk with the same kind of energy, but honestly, it's hard because you know you're talking to a wall." But he keeps going anyway, for the sake of his business and to push himself out of his comfort zone. As for his stutter? After hours upon hours of chatting into a phone camera, only a trace of it remains. "If people want to laugh at my stutter, honestly, just let them laugh," he says. "Everyone has his or her own shortcomings. You just have to accept who you are and face it."
Straits Times
a day ago
- Straits Times
Six-figure sales each durian season: Why durian sellers are now live selling on TikTok
Sign up now: Get ST's newsletters delivered to your inbox SINGAPORE – When Mr Raay Lim started selling durians in May 2020 during the Covid-19 circuit breaker, he expected the long hours and physical toil, but not the non-stop yapping that would come to define his job now. Growing up, communication was never his strong suit. He had a habit of stammering and stuttering, so a career as a live streamer was the furthest thing from his mind. He went into the durian business to facilitate conversations, not lead them. 'I started out because my grandma loved durians a lot. Every durian season, we' d lay out the newspaper, sit and eat together. It's something I'll always remember. So, I hope that by starting my business, I'll be able to replicate these family moments for other people,' says the 32-year-old Singaporean owner of Zen Zu Fu Durians, which operates from a kerbside stall in Tiong Bahru. He set up shop firs t i n Queenstown, the n S in Ming and Bedok, and finall y T iong Bahru. But each successive neighbourhood proved no warmer than the last, with residents reluctant to leave their homes during the pandemic. 'It was very hard to build up a neighbourhood base. You need to give customers a reason to choose you over other more established stalls.' To a young newcomer like him, it was clear that the traditional model of business – a bricks-and-mortar stall, steady base of neighbourhood regulars – no longer cut it. The answer, then, lay online, on the one app that was taking over the world: TikTok. Live selling has helped Mr Lim reach new audiences. ST PHOTO: KELVIN CHNG In June 2023, Mr Lim logged on and started live selling durians for the first time. It turned out to be the right move. Top stories Swipe. Select. Stay informed. Singapore 5 new walking trails allow hikers to explore heritage sites, win FairPrice, Cold Storage vouchers World Trump advises Ukraine's Zelensky to 'make a deal' with Russia after meeting Putin World Takeaways: Warm words contrast with cold reality of no deal at Trump-Putin summit Singapore Nowhere to run: Why Singapore needs to start protecting its coasts now Life Switching careers in middle age and beyond: How these Singapore professionals did it Asia 11,000 properties without power after 4.9-magnitude quake strikes near east coast of Australia Asia Move over, Labubu – Chiikawa is the new craze in Hong Kong Life English, physics, chemistry: These tutors take O-level exams every year About 70 per cent of his revenue now comes from TikTok Shop, where mao shan wang is priced at $50 a 500g box – the same as de-husked durians at his physical stall. He estimates that he racks up six figures in total in TikTok Shop sales during the main durian season in June. The harvests in December and March yield more modest returns. Oth er enterprising thorn sellers started to do the same, lured b y t he platform's sprawling reach and quick commerce. Over the last year, the app has yielded a bumper cro p. T he number of durian sellers on TikTok Shop grew by some 40 per cent, while gross merchandise value surged 185 per cent year-on-year, according to the company. Sellers such as Mr Josiah Jeremy Seow of Golden Moments Durian Cafe in Bugis and Mr Tony Seah of Vlack Durian in Bukit Batok also tried to catch the wave over the last couple of year s. 'The era of business has changed, and we have to adapt and enter the streaming arena,' say s M r Seah, a 41-year-old Singaporean . H e launched Vlack in 2020 and started live selling in June 2024. The results were remarkable. By the following year, revenue had risen by 40 to 50 per cent. A 400g to 450g box of mao shan wang sells for around $60 on Vlack's TikTok Shop, 10 per cent more than at the physical store due to c harges such as platform fees. Because his store is in an industrial estate, online outreach is a necessity. 'We can't attract thousands of customers daily with just our physical store, but on TikTok, we can get thousands to learn about our brand.' Mr Tony Seah's shop, Vlack Durian, is located at an industrial space in Bukit Batok. ST PHOTO: DESMOND WEE For seasoned live streamers like Ms Emily Tan, who goes by @EmObsessed online, durians have also proven a risky – as perishable foods tend to be – but lucrative trade. She had heard that durians were one of the easiest things to sell online, with a higher eyeballs-to-sales conversion rate than other fruit. 'At first, I was like, are you serious? Who buys durians on TikTok? I thought you'd want to get a feel or try the durian. But after doing one live stream, I realised the cult of durians is real,' says the 32-year-old Singaporean of her first live stream with Zen Zu Fu in Ap ril. She usually touts family-centric products online such as Zappy wipes. S he sold a five-figure sum from four hours with Zen Zu Fu, slightly more than the mid-four-to-five figures she usually generates from selling other products online. Friends first Online, the prickly product cannot speak for itself. It demands a personable host: charismatic, knowledgeable and ready to talk for hour s. On Mr Lim's live stream s, conversation ranges far beyond durians, running the gamut from routine exchanges – 'How are you' and 'Have you eaten?' – to deeper concerns, like the rising cost of living and how to help friends with mental health issues. The sessions can run for up to six hours. Sometimes, he chops durians concurrently. But multitasking can be exhausting and dangerous, so he takes occasional breaks from physical work to e ngage his viewers. 'I would say it's 20 per cent selling, 80 per cent chatting,' he says, taking care to differentiate himself from sellers who urge customers to just 'buy, buy, buy'. 'To do business, you must first build your community. When people know your sincerity and who you are, they are more likely to buy from you. The way I approach the live streaming is by thinking that maybe we can be friends first.' Mr Lim believes in first building rapport with customers before selling them anything. ST PHOTO: KELVIN CHNG It seems to have worked. Viewers hang around for an average of two hours – for him, not the durians. Singaporean Ng Shu Huai, for example, has been following Zen Zu Fu's TikTok live sales for a year now. The 39-year-old, who works in the supply chain sector, tunes in every day after work and on weekend s . 'Raay's quite funny and the chats are always light-hearted, whic h helps me unwind after a long day,' she says. 'What keeps me coming back is Raay's honesty and sincerity. He never hard sells and remembers viewers' names, preferences and where they live.' On the other hand, she adds, buying in person can be quite intimidating. It is a sentiment Mr Lim says many millennial and Gen Z customers share, which is why he thinks TikTok has helped him reach a new demographic. 'Dur ian sellers can be intimidating in terms of their voices being loud. It's a bit hard to go down to their shop and speak to them because a lot of people can give into this kind of pressure.' On TikTok, however, the customer is king. Order a box if you like what you see. If not, just swipe past. Honesty is the best policy Ms Tan is not one to beg for business. Her style, she maintains, is transparent and honest, not pushy. She adds: 'If a customer says, 'Emily, I can't decide between red prawn and mao shan wang', some sellers will say, 'Buy both.' 'But I'll be like, 'Ask yourself if you want to eat something sweeter o r a bit bigger? And you can just purchase one. If it's good, next time, you can come back.'' Also emphasising candour, Mr Seow describes his style as educational. He starts by delving into the different types of durians an d th eir tastes in an engaging monologu e, sprinkled with facts and examples. For instance, he might explain why the price of durians is going up or break down what a bumper crop means for Singaporean buyers. 'When they know that we know our stuff, that's when we establish trust and rapport,' says the 36-year-old, who founded Golden Moments in 2017. Online, his durians are priced from $22 to $38 for each 400g box. Golden Moments Durian Cafe owner Josiah Jeremy Seow expanded his business to TikTok in 2023. ST PHOTO: BRIAN TEO The live streaming at Golden Moments runs from 1 to 10pm every day, with shifts divided into two- to three-hour long blocks hosted by in-house staff or a roster of about 20 freelancers it cycles through. Mr Seow is conscious of the difference between online consumers and those who patronise his physical store. Shoppers on TikTok are more price-conscious, as the platform allows them to compare the cost across various stores at once. 'They tend to be more critical about the brand and product because they can see how many boxes have been sold and what a store's rating is like before making a decision to buy,' he notes. In response, he has tightened customer service, ensuring tha t ch ats are replied to and deliveries made on time. The durians are usually delivered within 90 minutes, as promised on its TikTok page, affording quick gratification. Vlack's Mr Seah takes a similarly informative approach. He introduces himself, answers questions, discusses the season's forecast and guides viewers through the types of durians in a manne r that is 'very direct, very clear'. Trust, in his case, is built by keeping the camera trained on a box of golden flesh, with a member of his team de-husking durians in the background. 'We're a premium durian specialist, so we believe in flexing the quality of our durians, instead of attracting people by showing our faces,' he quips. Because TikTok Shop accounts for 70 per cent of Vlack's sales, the team live streams from 3 to 10pm d aily. Mr Seah admits that it can get tiring, even when live-selling duties are shared among his team of six. Does he ever run out of things to say? 'No, I love to eat durians. S o, I 'm doing what I like on a daily basis.' Thorny side of TikTok Not every part of the process is sweet, however. The rush hour, which is usually from 5 to 8pm and brings a surge of around 50 orders, always gives the team a bit of a headache – albeit a happy one. It has to manage expectations, keep track of deliveries, get durians to customers within two to three hours, as well as soothe the ruffled feathers of those asked to reschedule their deliveries, should stocks run out. And if any box fails to meet expectations, customers are urged to reach out to Vlack's service recovery team. 'Durians are so expensive. We don't want customers to eat lousy quality durians. Just reach out to us. Don't be afraid, we're very friendly,' he assures. The Vlack Durian team takes turns to live stream its durians on TikTok Shop. ST PHOTO: DESMOND WEE But refunds occasionally pose a challenge to Mr Seow. 'Some customers are a bit harder to deal with, they're obviously there to troll. So they will tell you that it's very bad, but when you ask for photos and videos, they don't want to send. Then how do you justify the refund ?' Sellers on TikTok Shop must respond to re fund requests within one working day, but can reject a request on grounds of lack of evidence or if the product is 'used, damaged or removed from the original packaging'. Then there is the emotional exhaustion of having to continually pump out good vibes. While Mr Lim can usually feed off the energy of 50 to 100 viewers, his live stream has its quieter moments too. 'The toughest thing is motivating yourself when there are no viewers,' he says. 'You have to talk with the same kind of energy, but honestly, it's hard because you know you're talking to a wall.' But he keeps going anyway, for the sake of his business and to push himself out of his comfort zone. As for his stutter? After hours upon hours of chatting into a phone camera, only a trace of it remains. 'If people want to laugh at my stutter, honestly, just let them laugh,' he says. 'Everyone has his or her own shortcomings. You just have to accept who you are and face it.'
Business Times
a day ago
- Business Times
Singapore retail needs a rethink, not a eulogy
[SINGAPORE] They say the lights never go out in Orchard Road. But these days, they dim a little earlier. With iconic cinemas shuttered, retail institutions disappearing and foot traffic thinning, one cannot help but wonder: Is Singapore's retail scene slowly fading into irrelevance? For over a decade, Singapore's retail has been haemorrhaging, caught between rising rents, labour crunches and digital disruption. Covid-19 pressed fast-forward on that trend: Consumers retreated online and landlords clung to pre-pandemic rents; leading to retailers getting caught in a perfect storm of higher costs and lower margins. But before we mourn the death of brick-and-mortar, let's pause and reflect. Retail isn't dying; it's evolving. The question is whether Singapore wants to evolve with it. The risk of irrelevance Cinema chains such as Filmgarde have exited. Global brands from Topshop to Times Bookstore and Robinsons have folded. At the same time, suburban malls are populated by cookie-cutter chains offering the same bubble tea, fast fashion and pharmacy experience. Beyond transactions, retail shapes the cultural and social rhythm of a city. But today, other than a few lifestyle precincts such as Jewel and Funan, the Singapore retail experience is flatlining. And when landlords and tenants alike play the short-term rental game, innovation gets priced out. More than bad news for shopkeepers, a hollowed-out retail sector hurts tourism, urban vibrancy, employment and even Singapore's soft power as a regional trendsetter. BT in your inbox Start and end each day with the latest news stories and analyses delivered straight to your inbox. Sign Up Sign Up The problem isn't just retail economics. It's vision – or the lack of one. The China playbook: What we can learn This is why the new initiatives at the Singapore Retailers Association (SRA) matter. New leadership brings fresh eyes. And one of their first moves is partnering with Singapore Management University (SMU) to send a study team to China. Why? Because if you want to understand retail reinvention, China is the lab. Companies such as Xiaomi, Huawei, DJI, and BYD aren't just selling electronics or cars. They're turning their brand ecosystems into experiential retail platforms – where visitors interact, test and share. And developers like Coastal City in Shenzhen aren't building malls. They're building day-to-night, content-led, lifestyle micro-cities. As one participant, Lionel Tan, ecommerce director at Singtel, commented: 'The Shenzhen trip reaffirmed that true innovation starts with understanding what customers value. Companies like Tencent, Pagoda, and Kingdee showed how artificial intelligence (AI), data and product-led thinking can transform retail into a deeply personalised and intuitive experience. This is exactly what Singtel hopes to build: journeys that resonate, designed around people, not just platforms.' Beyond space and layout, China also leads in one underappreciated area: intellectual property (IP) merchandising and promotional gifting. From Pop Mart's blind-box figurines to Tencent's League of Legends merchandise and Chagee's collectibles, there's much proof that Chinese firms are masters at turning brand assets into physical extensions of identity and loyalty. These aren't afterthoughts – they're part of the core brand strategy that prioritises storytelling. Done well, promotional gifting and branded merchandise are footfall drivers, retention tools and social media bait rolled into one. Singapore's retailers have much to learn from this playbook. Ultimately, it's about content, community and experience. SRA's role in the new era Singapore lacks neither talent nor infrastructure. What it needs is orchestration. For any of this to succeed, SRA must evolve from a traditional industry body to become the industry's chief convener and provocateur – one that can convene retailers, landlords, the Urban Redevelopment Authority (URA), Enterprise Singapore, and even the Singapore Tourism Board (STB) to co-create the next chapter. This could mean: Working with URA to rethink retail zoning for more pop-up and mixed-use formats; Partnering with landlords to pilot experiential zones, where return on investment is measured not just by rents, but by time spent and community value; Collaborating with STB to reposition Singapore as more than a shopping hub, but an experience lab; and Supporting local and regional brands with market entry via incubation spaces, digital integration grants and AI-enabled retail analytics. As Clement Yew, director at AutoStore put it: 'To stay competitive and thrive, retailers must embrace and embark on digital and automation transformation. This will equip retailers to optimise their operations and enhance productivity, leading to a more sustainable and profitable business model. And SRA should lead this charge.' Rethinking success: From sales per foot to stories per visit Singapore's malls do not need more shops. They need more stories. Living brand experiences already exist in China: Miniso's global flagship store in Chengdu allows customers to design their own merchandise and interact with AI-powered retail displays. Bosideng's tech-enhanced concept store in Shanghai combines fashion with immersive experiences, enabling shoppers to customise winter wear using augmented reality mirrors and thermal simulation zones. Singapore has the ingredients to do the same – and better. Concurring, SRA representative Bryan Woon said: 'The future lies in creating experiences, not just transactions. And SRA's mission is to rally retailers, landlords, and policymakers to reimagine the retail landscape together, so that Singapore remains not only a shopping destination, but a place where brands, culture and people connect in meaningful ways.' Shopping as culture, not mere commerce Beyond simple purchases, retail is where culture meets commerce, where memories are created. Singapore's challenge is rediscovering its own retail identity, not fighting e-commerce. The good news? Green shoots are emerging. The SRA reboot, government support for digitalisation and a growing appetite for curated experiences suggest momentum is building. But time is short. If Singapore doesn't act, others will fill the void. So, retailers, landlords, planners and policymakers, let's not write an obituary for Singapore retail. Let's write its next chapter. After all, malls may fade, but magic doesn't have to. The writer, a seasoned economist, adviser and entrepreneur, is an affiliate lecturer at Singapore Management University
