Orvis walks the hard road in an effort to remain true to its roots | Hatch Magazine

In October 2024, Orvis President Simon Perkins announced that the company would eliminate about 8 percent of its workforce (112 employees), close many of its company retail stores, and discontinue its iconic catalog. All this came after announcing 10 months earlier that it would move its corporate headquarters to Manchester, Vermont, from its Sunderland, Vermont, home base in an attempt to shrink the iconic company’s corporate footprint in order to deal with a new retail and manufacturing reality “that requires us to think differently,” Perkins said at the time.

The move opened eyes across the fly fishing universe. If venerable Orvis, perhaps the most respected brand in fly fishing, and possibly in wingshooting, too, was going to approach the mid-2020s by retracting, what’s to be said of the industry as a whole? Was the move meant to forecast a downturn in the industry, or had Orvis just outgrown itself? Beloved as it was, most in the industry — and, very likely — in the company’s customer base, could easily grasp the cancellation of the catalog. But brick-and-mortar retail stores? More than 100 employees? Was the Grim Reaper on his way for one of America’s heritage companies?

Then, in June of last year, things got worse. In response to the pressure applied to the legendary fly-rod and fishing gear manufacturer and retailer by President Trump’s tariffs on imports, Perkins announced that an additional 4 percent of the company’s workforce — another 50 employees — would be gone by the end of the year. Over the course of this shakeup, many in the industry were stunned by social media posts from longtime employees now suddenly on the bread line. In fairness, Orvis did what most of us would hope troubled companies would do when times get lean. It offered competitive severance packages, insurance payments to help bridge the gap for working families, and the like.

In eight months, Orvis and its corporate footprint changed drastically. Then, just last October, the final numbers were in. By early 2026, Orvis planned to close 36 of its stores — 31 retail shops and five outlets.

“Like many in retail, Orvis’ business model faced a sizable shift with the introduction of an unprecedented tariff landscape,” Perkins said of the closures and layoffs. “To ensure a durable brand and model for decades to come, we are focusing on our core strengths and making the difficult but necessary decision to rescale the business by tightening our assortment and reducing our corporate store footprint.”

The death of a classic

From a sheer product-focused landscape, it’s likely that most of Orvis’ longtime customers haven’t noticed a huge change. Certainly, the physical footprint is smaller, but online access to the company’s products takes the sting out of not being able to wander down to the store to give the new Recon a wiggle. Orvis is still producing quality fly rods. It’s still selling some of the best gear available to anglers and upland bird hunters. So, other than a palpable retraction, the changes haven’t been as head-slapping as the news of the now-complete retraction was as it played out over the last couple of years.

This week, on Orvis’ own podcast, longtime host and Orvis’ standard-bearer Tom Rosenbauer (a 50-year employee in June!) sat down with Perkins, and the two talked about the elephant in the room.

“Orvis has undergone some big changes,” Rosenbauer said by way of introducing the conversation. “These are the biggest changes I have seen in my entire time here.”

Perkins noted that Orvis has been part of the fly fishing landscape for 170 years, and that the Perkins family has owned the company for 60 years.

“When you’ve been around for that long, you’re well-practiced at making it through moments, and finding pathways through things,” he said, recalling that the industry as a whole has dealt with changes brought on by other circumstances, like when bamboo shortages spurred the graphite technology boom decades ago. “There are these things that force changes and you learn how to adapt and evolve. But you also need to hold on to what makes you, you.”

Perkins leaned into the company’s storied history, and his family’s passion for fishing and hunting.

“You want to have a successful business,” he said. “One that endures, one that has longevity.” And that, he said, requires some very difficult decisions that are “super layered.” For a family owned business whose owners are steeped in the sporting traditions the company markets and sells, the decisions were excruciating. And they started in late 2024 with the decision to nix the catalog.

“That was a big one,” Perkins said. “The catalog was kind of at the center of our relationship with customers. It was the center of the business. It was how things worked, and it had been that way for decades.”

There were two things that spurred the catalogs’ obituary.

First, the interaction with the catalog changed, and it changed dramatically. What once was a “personal touchpoint” with customers — who would get the catalog in the mail, pour a tumbler of brown liquor and spend an hour flipping through the pages in search of their next big purchase — became more of an afterthought. Much of the same information was (and still is) available on the company’s website.

Second, the cost of producing a catalog that often spanned more than 100 pages, increased 40 percent over a four-year span, Perkins said.

“It was no longer a tenable way to connect with the customers,” he said. In the “catalog days,” the company was in the driver’s seat. It crafted the content for the product. It set the production schedule. It set the delivery schedule, and, when the catalog hit mailboxes, the company stood by and waited for the phone to ring.

Rosenbauer noted that, as long ago as the early 2000s, as the digital landscape was growing and more and more commerce was taking place online, “we were still catalog-centric.” Even then, almost a quarter century ago, “it really created issues,” he said.

Perkins agreed, noting that, during the catalog era — the Orvis catalog superseded the Sears and Roebuck Catalog which first launched 1888 — the company had all the control. That changed quickly with the maturity of the internet and online marketing.

“The customer has all the control now,” Perkins said. And, with a smartphone or computer keyboard at their fingertips, customers have more options, more ability to compare products and prices, and round-the-clock access to commerce. There’s no need to operate “during business hours” any more.

Store closures and employee layoffs

It’s not a difficult leap in logic to tie the merciful death of the Orvis catalog to at least the initial wave of company layoffs. How so? Well, the catalog production required a full team of media pros to pull off. With no catalog to produce, the need for that team, sadly, went away.

But, as Rosenbauer noted, it’s more complicated than that, and it required something of a perfect storm to arrive at a place where, first, 8 percent of the company’s workforce was eliminated, followed by another 4 percent less than a year later.

“I get this question all the time,” Rosenbauer said. “Why did you close my local store?”

Perkins, to his credit, didn’t shy away from the question. He noted that, as Orvis was in the midst of deciding to guillotine its retail catalog, the Trump tariffs hit in early 2025.

“Unless you’re in it, I think it’s hard to fully understand the impact that tariffs had,” he said. Perkins went to great pains to remind customers that, yes, the company makes and manufactures goods in the United States, but “we’re a company that’s been around for a long time and has built a business model that is on a global scale. It’s amazing how many things can impact even American-made manufacturing (in regard to tariffs).”

“Tariffs hit, and they hit suddenly,” he said. “And that affected a lot of different costs of the business, and it’s not just the cost of products that weren’t made in the U.S.”

Perkins cited the cost of raw materials with tariffs in place as well as supply chain challenges that arose from the quick-hit, seemingly random nature that accompanied the tariffs’ out-of-the blue application.

“When we looked at the full impact of that,” he said, “it was a huge number, a giant number on the business. Bigger than one I’ve seen or I’ve ever heard of. It was really disruptive to the business model.”

That number, Perkins said, forced the company’s leadership to take an introspective look at Orvis as a whole.

“This was a moment where we had to pause,” he said. “How do we need to think about this in a way so that (Orvis) had that durability” it needs to remain a leader in the outdoor industry without changing the values and the consumer cache that Orvis has mined for 170 years?

“So, we needed to make some big changes,” he said. But those changes couldn’t cut into the heart of Orvis’ product line — the fly rods, the wingshooting gear … even the dog products.

Simon [left] and Charley [right] Perkins (photo: Jay Riley).

“We operate in an industry that is super-emotional,” Perkins said. And there’s an emotional relationship between Orvis customers and the company’s foundational products. Products that “were in that wheelhouse” have always performed well, Perkins said, even in the hardest of times over Orvis’ long and storied history. The farther away from that wheelhouse — the fly rods, the waders, the wingshooting apparel, and the like — the more vulnerable those products were to things like cheaper alternatives or simple disregard.

For that reason, Perkins said, it made good business sense to exorcise the parts of the company that weren’t as emotionally important to customers. Unfortunately, doing so forced “some really, really difficult decisions.”

As Perkins noted on the podcast, each Orvis store had its own personality and its own quirks. Some of the company stores were deeply invested in the products that make up the beating heart of that emotional connection between Orvis and its customers. Others stores leaned into products that strayed from that connection.

“That part of the business was not only extremely vulnerable, but it just didn’t have the legs to stand on anymore,” Perkins said. “That was the part of the business that did get blown around with the wind. When you’re making decisions for the long term, you want something that’s anchored and really meaningful to people. And that’s where you want to focus your time, energy, and investment.”

As Perkins noted, the area of the business that had just a tenuous connection to the company’s core — fly fishing and wingshooting — was exposed to the whims of an ever-changing economic landscape, where, thanks to digital marketing, artificial intelligence, round-the-clock access to commerce, and the like

“So we made those changes,” Perkins said, and that offered the company’s leadership the chance to focus on its core products, and its core values. And, he said, from a purely business perspective, the decision was simple and pragmatic.

But, in reality, Perkins said, “It’s not that at all.”

Saying goodbye to long-time employees was very difficult, and Perkins admitted that the move inspired some consumer backlash, particularly from customers who did the bulk of their business via the brick-and-mortar Orvis stores. But, as he noted, if the company was going to persist and maintain its generational appeal, it had to make a very difficult and very emotional choice.

Does that mean an end to in-person marketing and sales? No, Rosenbauer offered, stepping in during the conversation to kind of help his boss change gears.

“One of the focuses going forward is to really lean into our wholesale partners — independent fly shops,” he said. “People want … a face-to-face approach when they buy something like an expensive fly rod. Part of the focus is … supporting our independent fly shops.”

Perkins agreed. “Nothing replaces that in-person connection.”

Maintaining its commitment to conservation

One could reasonably assume that the lowest-hanging fruit during a corporate downsizing effort could be to reduce or eliminate the expenses involved with philanthropy. For years, Orvis has been a dependable partner for conservation efforts ranging from the mundane (but important), like replacing clogged culverts with bridges over trout streams, to the grandiose, like supporting the massive undertaking that is rejuvenating the Florida Everglades.

The company’s conservation ethos is at the same time both generous and self-serving. The idea that altruism must worm its way into any effort to make fishing better for Orvis customers (who buy Orvis gear to enjoy the pastime) is superfluous pablum. The real take-away? Wouldn’t it be great if every company that made money from the outdoors made a concerted effort to keep the outdoors healthy and accessible?

So, no, Perkins said, Orvis won’t abandon its conservation work that, in this political climate, is more important than it usually is. And the list of issues that Orvis has its eyes on is significant.

“There’s public lands; there’s tons of conservation issues. There’s water temperature, there’s so much pressure,” Perkins said. “We really appreciate being that trusted, credible name in the space who will go and advocate for these places or will help rally customers and partners to protect these places.”

There was an easier way out

Perkins clearly feels the tremendous weight that comes with wearing the Orvis mantle. Leading a heritage company comes with off-the-charts expectations. And, considering the challenges that accompanied the last two years, it would have been so much easier for Orvis’ corporate leadership to answer a call from some private equity firm and take the quick and lucrative payout that would come the sale of such of respected brand.

“There would have been an easy button to hit to say, ‘Hey, let’s be done with this,’” Perkins said. “But it’s not who we are. We would have made different decisions … if we were interested in selling.”

The slog through the economic muskeg over the last two years has proven difficult, the company’s president declared. But in order to keep Orvis going, and to keep it in the family, and to maintain its cherished customer loyalty and spot among — if not atop — the fly fishing and wingshooting royalty, Perkins said the difficult process was absolutely necessary. “There are much easier pathways through the last two years than what we did,” he said. “What we did took a ton of work … but we did that because we want this thing to be enduring and successful and around for decades going forward.”