A single brand name, visible from both sides of the same border, has produced two entirely different destinies — collapse in the country that invented it, and quiet prosperity in the country that adapted it. Sears, once the cathedral of American consumer life, has largely vanished from the United States while continuing to grow in Mexico, where its operators chose responsiveness over inertia. The divergence is less a story about retail than about the human capacity — or failure — to change before change becomes irreversible.
Sears thrives south of the border while fading in the U.S.
The problem was what was done with it, not the brand itself.
Mark
So Sears is actually doing well somewhere? I thought the company was basically finished.
Mimi
It is finished in the United States, more or less. But in Mexico, it's a different story entirely. The stores are profitable and the company is still expanding there.
Luke
Wait—are we talking about the same corporate entity, or is this a licensing deal? Because that matters for what the story actually means.
Mimi
It's the same company operating the same brand. The difference is in how they've adapted the business model to the Mexican market.
Mark
What did they change? The stores, the products, the prices?
Mimi
All of it. The product selection is different—tailored to what Mexican consumers actually want and can afford. The pricing reflects local market conditions. The whole operation is responsive to that market in a way the U.S. operation never became.
Luke
Do we have numbers on how many stores, how much revenue, growth rates? Or is this more of an impressionistic observation?
Mimi
The reporting confirms that stores are thriving with strong sales and the company is expanding. The specifics on store count and revenue figures aren't detailed in what we have.
Mark
Why didn't they do this in America? If adaptation works in Mexico, why couldn't it work here?
Mimi
That's the real question. In America, Sears seemed locked into an older model. It didn't move fast enough, didn't invest in the right places, didn't listen to what customers wanted.
Luke
But we should be careful here—we don't know if Mexican success is sustainable. Retail markets shift everywhere. We're looking at a snapshot, not a guarantee.
Mark
So this isn't a redemption story for Sears. It's a story about what could have been.
Mimi
Exactly. It's proof that the brand itself wasn't the problem. The problem was what was done with it.
O Pulso
- The same Sears logo hangs over thriving Mexican storefronts and shuttered American ones, making the brand's U.S. collapse feel less like fate and more like a choice.
- American Sears entered bankruptcy in 2018 after years of accelerating closures, leaving most younger Americans with no memory of ever having shopped there.
- Mexican Sears operators recalibrated everything — product mix, pricing, store experience — to match what local consumers actually wanted, rather than defending what once worked elsewhere.
- Retail analysts are now asking whether the American collapse was structural inevitability or strategic negligence, and the Mexican stores make the latter case uncomfortably persuasive.
- The open question is whether Mexican success is durable or simply a delayed reckoning, as competition and shifting markets spare no retailer indefinitely.
A single brand name, visible from both sides of the same border, has produced two entirely different destinies — collapse in the country that invented it, and quiet prosperity in the country that adapted it. Sears, once the cathedral of American consumer life, has largely vanished from the United States while continuing to grow in Mexico, where its operators chose responsiveness over inertia. The divergence is less a story about retail than about the human capacity — or failure — to change before change becomes irreversible.
Walk into a Sears on the American side of the border and you find a store mid-disappearance. Walk across into Mexico and you find one that is selling, expanding, and profitable. The same brand name, producing opposite outcomes within sight of each other, raises an uncomfortable question about whether what happened in America was truly inevitable.
For generations, Sears defined American retail — the place for tools, appliances, school clothes, and a catalog that served as entertainment in rural homes. Its U.S. decline was steep: closures accelerated through the 2010s, bankruptcy arrived in 2018, and today most Americans under forty have never set foot in one. The company did not so much fall as dissolve.
In Mexico, the story ran differently. Sears there adapted its product mix, adjusted pricing to local purchasing power, and recalibrated the store experience for a different consumer base. What works in Monterrey was understood to be distinct from what once worked in Milwaukee. The brand retained its infrastructure — locations, supply chains, scale — but chose transformation over defensiveness.
This is what haunts retail historians: if the same brand can thrive in one market while collapsing in another, then the American failure was not simply the death of the department store model. It was a failure to listen, to change, and to invest in the right directions before time ran out.
Mexican success carries no guarantee — markets shift, competition is relentless, and economic conditions evolve. But for now, one side of the border offers a cautionary tale about a lost retail century, while the other offers something more unsettling: proof that the brand itself was never the problem.
Walk into a Sears on the American side of the border and you will find a store that has already begun to disappear. Walk across into Mexico and you will find something altogether different: a Sears that is selling, expanding, and making money. This divergence—the same brand name, the same basic retail formula, producing opposite outcomes within sight of each other—tells a story about what happened to one of America's most recognizable companies, and why its fate was not inevitable.
Sears was once the department store that defined American retail. For generations, it was where families bought tools and appliances, where children got their school clothes, where the catalog itself was a form of entertainment in rural America. The company's decline in the United States has been steep and well-documented: store closures accelerated through the 2010s and 2020s, bankruptcy came in 2018, and what remained became a shadow of the operation that once employed hundreds of thousands. Today, the U.S. footprint is a fraction of what it was, and most Americans under forty have never shopped in a Sears at all.
But Sears did not simply vanish everywhere. In Mexico, the company operates a thriving business that has continued to grow even as its American operations contracted. Mexican Sears stores report strong sales figures and steady customer traffic. The company has not retreated there; it has adapted. The product mix differs from what American stores once carried. The pricing strategy reflects local purchasing power and market conditions. The store experience itself has been recalibrated for a different consumer base with different expectations and needs. What works in Monterrey does not work in Milwaukee, and Sears Mexico understood this in a way that the American operation apparently did not.
The contrast raises a question that haunts retail analysts and business historians: was Sears's American collapse a function of inevitable market forces—the rise of e-commerce, the shift in consumer behavior, the structural decline of the department store model—or was it a failure of strategy and adaptation? If the same brand, operating under the same corporate umbrella, can thrive in one market while collapsing in another, then something about the American execution went wrong. The company did not fail because department stores cannot work. It failed because it did not change fast enough, did not listen closely enough to what customers wanted, did not invest in the right places.
The Mexican operation suggests that Sears still had something to offer. It had brand recognition, store locations, supply chain infrastructure, and the ability to source products at scale. What it lacked in America was the willingness or the capability to transform itself into what the market demanded. In Mexico, that transformation happened. Stores were refreshed. Inventory was tailored. Pricing was adjusted. The company became responsive rather than defensive.
This is not to say that Mexican success is guaranteed to continue. Retail markets shift everywhere. Competition is relentless. Economic conditions change. But for now, on one side of the border, Sears is a cautionary tale about American retail's lost century. On the other side, it is something else entirely: proof that the brand itself was not the problem. The problem was what was done with it.
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Leia o original em The Washington Post ↗
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