The stories told by small business owners in San Francisco generally veer more horrific than heartwarming. But a bright yellow shop at Pier 39 with a silly concept chosen on impulse has been a runaway success.
Called Kwak, the store sells basically one thing: toy ducks. And it’s damn good at it. The shop sold 50,000 ducks last year across roughly 600 styles. The shop is profitable, its founders say, and garnering interest from potential franchisees. It pays, apparently, to have a gimmick.
Kwak carries holiday ducks, Taylor Swift and Willie Nelson ducks, career-inspired ducks, and sassy “duck you” ducks. It stocks large ducks, teensy ducks, and classic, Ernie-approved bathtub duckies, too (though, these days, most are made of plastic, not rubber).
“We want to really hit you in the face with ducks when you walk in and make you laugh immediately,” said co-owner Joanne Calabrese.
The niche store emerged from a partnership between Calabrese and John Walton, her former coworker at Gap. For years, they’d talked about using their decades of corporate retail experience to open some kind of whimsical shop in San Francisco.
What started on “a bit of a whim,” according to Calabrese, has turned into a thriving business.
The concept began to take shape when she cold-emailed Pier 39’s leasing exec, asking if the area had any short-term rental space and pitching her idea. The duo “started buying ducks before we even signed the lease,” she said.
Before opening Kwak, the owners had no special affinity or passion for the toy, but it fit the bill for something playful and nostalgic. They were such novices that neither had heard about the fanatic duck-swapping traditions of Jeep owners and cruisegoers.
(Jeep owners “duck” strangers’ windshields or side mirrors, and vacationers hide them for one another around cruise ships. Both traditions have taken off on Facebook in recent years as acts of kindness or innocent mischief.)
Between those single-minded shoppers and tourists wandering in (visitors from Korea, where Kwak is a common surname, particularly love the store), Calabrese and Walton have achieved better sales than they had ever imagined.
“Within a month I was like, “This is crazy,’” Calabrese said. “I didn’t know we could do this much business.”
Most of its ducks cost $10 or $12, but higher-end ducks are $20, and larger pop-culture items by California brand CelebriDucks go for $24. Kwak achieved profitability within the first 12 months, according to Calabrese. While she declined to get specific on sales, back-of-the-napkin math would indicate six-figure revenue.
More recently, the shop has expanded to duck-related accessories like beanies, bucket hats, and umbrellas. Still, the traditional toys remain the top seller, by far. One excited Singaporean gentleman holds the record for the biggest shopping spree at Kwak, when he splurged on 48 fowl.
While the duo started their lease at the pier with a six-month pop-up, they soon realized the store had staying power. Roughly 18 months in, they’re working with their landlord to lock down a two-year extension, Walton said. They now can afford to pay several workers to staff the shop.
When they hear about the success, “folks are agog,” Walton said. “I mean, we can’t believe it either.”
The shop brings in new styles every six to eight weeks and regularly phases out ducks that aren’t as popular. Spa ducks, clown ducks, and ghost-face ducks have all sold well, while a “princess fairy” duck won’t be ordered again.
In recent months, the duo has received enough franchising interest that they’re working with an organization to figure out what that process could look like. They are aware of a few other duck-dedicated U.S. stores, including one on Martha’s Vineyard and another in Colorado, but still see it as an “underserved market,” according to Walton.
“Our next step is looking into ways to expand it,” he said of Kwak. “Part of that is obviously the bottom line, but it’s also just fun. Both Joanne and I have had very serious retail jobs that were tough, and the thing about this is that it’s just joyous.”
While Kwak sells its ducks online, it believes the in-store experience will always be the bigger business.
“It’s about how you feel when you walk in,” Calabrese said. She describes groups taking turns picking the duck that best represents every family member, and friends comparing favorites. “It’s completely silly, but we’re having the most fun ever.”