Within menacing, castlelike walls and behind massive steel doors is a state-of-the-art company that operates like an army in a state of war. The company’s products include cutting-edge sunglasses and sneakers, but its mind-set has been honed on the edge of conflict.
There may be no better expression of corporate mission in corporate architecture than the headquarters of Oakley Inc., in Foothill Ranch, California. The lobby of the two-year-old, $40 million facility looks like a bomb shelter: It’s a huge, echoing vault straight out of Star Wars. Sleek pipes, watertight doors, and towering metallic walls studded with oversize bolts suggest a place that is routinely subjected to laser fire and floods. Ejection seats from a B-52 bomber furnish the waiting area. A full-size torpedo lies in a rack behind the receptionist’s armored desk.
A maker of high-end, ultrahip eyewear and footwear, Oakley attacks such rivals as Nike with gladiatorial glee. Its annual report reads like “The Art of War,” while its business strategy displays as much attitude as it does acumen. In 1997, when worldwide sales of pricey, high-fashion eyewear collapsed, founder Jim Jannard, 48, and his 1,100 employees responded by introducing even wilder designs for 1998. Early last year, after experts warned that Oakley would be unable to penetrate the athletic-footwear market with a domestically produced, competitively priced shoe, the company unveiled a U.S.-made $125 sneaker.
Oakley doesn’t like to be told what to do. And its brash approach to business has paid off. Analysts expect total sales in 1998 to top $233 million — up 20% from a disastrous 1997 and up 18% from 1996. The company’s stock price has climbed back toward its 1995 IPO level, earning Oakley plaudits as a marketplace warrior with staying power.
