Well, it's more like a love/hate relationship. For as many dresses or aprons or impossibly cute cardigans that cause me to lose my breath, the price tags make my heart skip a beat--and not in the good "Oh, Alcide's shirtless again" kind of way. More in the "Who the fuck pays $168 for a cotton dress?" way. And yes, yes, I know the quality is better than something I'd buy at Target. But, man. Love hurts.
I can still remember the first time I looked through the catalog, back when I was young and naive. A guy I was seeing at the time actually brought Anthropologie to my attention by pointing out the most amazing, whimsical Edwardian-style coat. "This is just the kind of thing you would wear," he said, or something to that effect. (Hey, this was like six years ago.) My eyes widened with delight. I had never seen such a coat outside of a Masterpiece Theater miniseries. Then, I saw the price. It was three digits long. But, just like in West Side Story when Tony sees Maria for the first time, everything got all misty and it was too late. Rationality had left my mind. I was smitten.
Over the years the store and I flirted back and forth, though it was always me who took things to heart. They'd send me a catalog, so I'd peruse their website, always led on with visions of impossibly twee frocks, delicate, lacy blouses, and furniture that resembled finds from the best estate sale ever. Once in a while I'd visit the sale section in the NYC location and rummage through the racks with a dozen other girls, searching for that illusive blouse marked down to half-price. Of course, even at half-price we're still talking $60.
But, like most love stories, the things I once loved about Anthropologie were the very things I came to hate: The whole faux vintage/flea market/heirloom-schtick. As someone who regularly wears dresses without irony (yes, that's a thing), has long collected teacups, and had a grandmother who was the best quilter EVER I feel like they've tried to market uniqueness to the point where said things begin to lose their value--and I don't mean monetarily. It is meant to evoke a lifestyle that comes with a pre-fab meaning--even as they describe their mix of products as eclectic.
I can still remember having a friend over and her taking notice of the handmade quilt on my bed and asking if it was from there. Now, granted, I know not everyone has quilts their grandma made, but still--when you're pricing such things at $200, it's not as if this is fashion for everyone to begin with. I guess I hate Anthropologie for the same reason that old punks and original Nirvana fans hate Urban Outfitters for making flannel and chucks trendy. (It's also probably no coincidence that both these stores are owned by the same company) They take the things that groups of people find meaningful and make them meaningless through mass production--not to mention with some unbelievable mark-ups.
But, much like how you occasionally drunk-text that hot guy you went on one bad date with last year, I can't completely let go of Anthropologie. Despite everything, they still make clothes I like, even if I can only afford to shop the sale section once or twice a year. I'm not exactly sure how to reconcile this. Perhaps there isn't a way. We all have to "sell out" to a certain extent when we participate in anything that is popular. I guess the most important thing is to just do/buy/wear what you love because you love it. As I once said to my friend Kimmy:"I was wearing dresses over jeans before it was trendy, and I'll still be wearing them when it isn't."
I can still remember the first time I looked through the catalog, back when I was young and naive. A guy I was seeing at the time actually brought Anthropologie to my attention by pointing out the most amazing, whimsical Edwardian-style coat. "This is just the kind of thing you would wear," he said, or something to that effect. (Hey, this was like six years ago.) My eyes widened with delight. I had never seen such a coat outside of a Masterpiece Theater miniseries. Then, I saw the price. It was three digits long. But, just like in West Side Story when Tony sees Maria for the first time, everything got all misty and it was too late. Rationality had left my mind. I was smitten.
Over the years the store and I flirted back and forth, though it was always me who took things to heart. They'd send me a catalog, so I'd peruse their website, always led on with visions of impossibly twee frocks, delicate, lacy blouses, and furniture that resembled finds from the best estate sale ever. Once in a while I'd visit the sale section in the NYC location and rummage through the racks with a dozen other girls, searching for that illusive blouse marked down to half-price. Of course, even at half-price we're still talking $60.
But, like most love stories, the things I once loved about Anthropologie were the very things I came to hate: The whole faux vintage/flea market/heirloom-schtick. As someone who regularly wears dresses without irony (yes, that's a thing), has long collected teacups, and had a grandmother who was the best quilter EVER I feel like they've tried to market uniqueness to the point where said things begin to lose their value--and I don't mean monetarily. It is meant to evoke a lifestyle that comes with a pre-fab meaning--even as they describe their mix of products as eclectic.
I can still remember having a friend over and her taking notice of the handmade quilt on my bed and asking if it was from there. Now, granted, I know not everyone has quilts their grandma made, but still--when you're pricing such things at $200, it's not as if this is fashion for everyone to begin with. I guess I hate Anthropologie for the same reason that old punks and original Nirvana fans hate Urban Outfitters for making flannel and chucks trendy. (It's also probably no coincidence that both these stores are owned by the same company) They take the things that groups of people find meaningful and make them meaningless through mass production--not to mention with some unbelievable mark-ups.
But, much like how you occasionally drunk-text that hot guy you went on one bad date with last year, I can't completely let go of Anthropologie. Despite everything, they still make clothes I like, even if I can only afford to shop the sale section once or twice a year. I'm not exactly sure how to reconcile this. Perhaps there isn't a way. We all have to "sell out" to a certain extent when we participate in anything that is popular. I guess the most important thing is to just do/buy/wear what you love because you love it. As I once said to my friend Kimmy:"I was wearing dresses over jeans before it was trendy, and I'll still be wearing them when it isn't."
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