That’s Branson’s kind of talk. Over the last 34 years he’s built a £4 billion-a-year enterprise and one of the world’s best-known brands by playing the eternal upstart. Nearing 50, he’s still the consumer’s open-collared champion, taking on the corporate suits. His business choices aren’t always well thought out. But lately he’s shrugged off questions about cash flow at sprawling, privately held Virgin Group and devised a line of attack that seems perfect for him: cyberspace. Branson’s latest Big Idea is the Virgin.com Internet portal, a single supersite grouping almost all the 220-odd businesses trading under the Virgin name. “What we are trying to do,” says Branson, “is to create a company that looks after your needs almost from the moment you are born right through your life.”
If that sounds grandiose even by Internet standards, remember: this is Richard Branson, a man who was hyping high-concept businesses back when most of today’s dot-com stars were still learning how to fib. What’s more, he actually has the goods, from wedding dresses to honeymoon planning and cosmetics. Last month he launched Virgin Cars, a no-hassle route to buying a new car on the Web. This week he’ll be introducing Virgin Money, a one-stop shop for financial services. And, of course, there’s Virgin Wines, trumpeted as–what else?–the world’s largest selection of wines online.
Delivering on the Bransonian superlatives isn’t always easy, though. True, company revenues have risen more than tenfold since 1988. Virgin Atlantic Airways, the group’s golden goose, is still flying high and the 150 or so Virgin Megastores are doing a brisk business on Times Square, the Champs Elysees and other prime sites around the world. But after losses of more than £80 million, Branson has been forced to revamp his Our Price record-store chain, acquired only two years ago. Virgin Cola’s hoopla is proving no match for Coke’s and Pepsi’s distribution muscle. Shares in Branson’s European budget airline, Virgin Express, have plunged. Even his V2 label–Virgin’s re-entry into the recording business–has needed a costly bailout. Worse, his British railway franchise, Virgin Rail, is struggling with a reputation for delays and uncomfortable rolling stock: bad news for a brand that counts customer care among its key virtues.
Small wonder that some old charges have been resurfacing. Branson has over-stretched his brand; the showman who rode through Manhattan on a tank and posed near naked to promote his autobiography is stronger on wacky ideas than execution. In some areas, he’s said to lack the staying power needed for success. Says retail analyst George Wallace: “People who succeed in the retail business tend to be more boring and more consistent: in the last 30 years Wal-Mart has only had one strategy.”
But if Branson’s worried, it isn’t showing. “If you launch more than 200 businesses you are always going to have a handful that don’t work,” he says over croissants and coffee at his stuccoed west London mansion. There’s more than enough in the kitty to meet the £150 million cost of developing the portal. “Virgin happens to be in the strongest position it has ever been in,” he says. “We have no companies draining vast amounts of cash–and if we did we would close them down.” Maybe so: only a handful of Virgin companies are publicly quoted and offer the kind of data analysts need for a full financial diagnosis. Branson himself is worth a reputed £1.6 billion, with much of the money stashed in offshore trusts.
Boasting aside, that confidence could be well-founded. Branson’s capacity for recovery–and reinvention–is as much a part of the legend as the death-defying balloon rides. First there was Branson the teenage editor, whose magazine won contributions from Jean-Paul Sartre and Mick Jagger, then there was Branson the music-industry mogul who signed the Sex Pistols and Phil Collins; now there’s Branson the airline tycoon who scraps with British Airways. And the comebacks keep coming. Back in December, as the mutterings grew over Virgin’s finances, he startled the City by persuading Singapore Airlines to pay a thumping £600 million for a 49 percent slice of the group’s golden goose, Virgin Atlantic.
Some of that money will go toward building the new supersite. So far Virgin companies have been linked by little more than their common shareholder and shared values of “fun”, “innovation” and “challenge.” In the future, there’ll be a single gateway into the entire Virgin empire. In theory, that will bring vast opportunities for cross-selling. When the site is complete next year, your next order of wine or vodka will be just a click away from your new mortgage. Approving pundits talk of the site as a handy “lifestyle editor.” The 21st-century consumer will welcome a handy range of goods and services presifted by a company he trusts, says Rita Clifton of Interbrand: “People living busy, overcommunicated lives aren’t going to stay awake all night looking for obscure brands.” Virgin’s very own gizmology could help: press the red button of that Virgin Mobile phone–bought from one of those revamped record stores–and get a list of Virgin special offers on the screen.
But will the online customers really come? There’s tough competition in just about every area Branson’s targeting online, from cars to wine to finance. The Virgin brand should be a major advantage, though–as will the Virgin demographic. Branson’s typical customer–a prosperous 15- to 30-year-old–more or less matches the profile of a typical European Internet user. Best of all, says Caroline Sceats of Internet specialists Forrester Research, “your CD buyer of today can become your air traveler of tomorrow.”
Branson, of course, dislikes anything so conventional as a corporate strategy. “Like everyone else we are trying to adapt to the Internet, but Virgin is always evolving,” says Branson. And he still has plenty of new projects off the Web. He’s pushing hard to increase Virgin’s presence in Asia. Last month saw Virgin Mobile clinch a deal with the Singapore telecom company, SingTel, to set up mobile-phone operators across the region. Branson, too, has evolved. The latest mutation: a 49-year-old with a knighthood, applauded as a role model by governments of every stripe. His days of death-defying stunts–such as his round-the-world ballooning attempts–are probably passed, he admits. On the other hand, his enthusiasm for big bets shows no sign of abating. It would be hard to argue that he’s grown risk-averse.
