When I initially heard about Charlotte Ronson’s collection for JCPenney, I was intrigued. It was obviously an attempt to raise JCPenney’s customer profile and compete with all the other mass market designer collaborations. I was excited to see what Miss Ronson would come up with for this market. I had remembered her cutesy anime inspired intimate apparel and the effortless downtown chic that she had cornered the market on in the late 90’s. It took me a long while to finally get around to seeing the collection in stores and I found it to be riddled with shortcomings.

The colors were off and/or garish, as is the case with most mass retail collaborations (i.e., Jovovich-Hawk), resulting in a chintzy look. Overall it was a collection of bland basics devoid of the signature touches that makes Ronson’s collection so twee and unique. But the most shocking part of the collection were the prices, $50 for dresses, $36 for a woven top and $22.00 for a basic tee with a ruffle embellishment. JCPenney commited a fatal error: they misunderstood their customer and they failed to do market research. Firstly, I doubt that a regular JCPenney customer has ever heard of Charlotte Ronson, so it’s not the kind of designer collaboration that will have intrinsic value. I’m sure the aim here was to draw a new kind of customer to JCPenney, and that new kind of customer probably thinks JCPenney is a place where you can find inexpensive items. So to walk in and see a dress that is inferior in material, craftsmanship and overall execution to something you would find at Forever 21 for three times the price is jawdropping. That sort of pricing made sense for Alexander McQueen’s Target collection, because his clothing sells for thousands of dollars and the every day gal can only dream about owning a single piece one day. But there is a Charlotte Ronson dress for sale right now at Revolve clothing for $176 and if I wait for it to go on sale, I could probably score it for about $80.00. Hardly a fantasy lifestyle brand.

The problems didn’t end there. The section was missing any clear defintion, mixed in and blending with adjacent brands like Bisou Bisou and the Allen B collection. There was not a single large sign calling out the I Heart Ronson Collection, and even the mannequins were half-heartedly merchandised. Nothing was trying to sell me on the idea, and believe me I really wanted to buy, because I thought I hearted Ronson too. The final confusing element of the art direction behind the collection is the online presence on the JCPenney site. The accessory and styling choices are downright strange and I’m not quite sure what look they where hoping to achieve.

When I had finished combing through the collection, I was armed with 4 pieces for the fitting room. The winner was the Marc Jacobs-esque woven button down top in a cute polka dot print, on sale for $17.99. The other surprisingly flattering item was the striped t-shirt dress, but I have a rule about buying cheap knits so for $17.99, I left it on the shelf.

In the end, I understand that big box retailers need to pad their prices to allow for mark downs and special promotions, but it shouldn’t be so overblown and obvious. I know a dramatic drop in price motivates buyers to “act now” and get it before it’s gone, but it looks bad to have a full run of sizes in so many styles at fifty percent off. It makes the brand look unsuccessful, and as though none of the merchandise is moving. If I go to the designer floor of Nordstrom and find a D&G skirt in the clearance section, you can bet there will just be one and it will be a size zero or a 14- giving me two options, get down to my birth weight or pull a Bridget Jones. If there were a rack full of them, I’d think there was something wrong, and in the case of I Heart Ronson, there is.