When I was in law school, I scrimped and saved and dropped about $200 on a dress from Anthro. This was long before they opened in Austin, we were poor as church mice, etc., so this was a big deal for me. It was a French toile de jouy/gauz
y dress (what in the hell was I thinking, BTW!?!?) and I could not wait for it to arrive. The first clue that something was terribly, terribly amiss was the fact that the padded mailing envelope made the communal mailboxes stink like poo. Still, ever the glutton for punishment, I raced up the stairs (in a side note, these same stairs were later condemned because we lived in such a safe, classy complex) to rip open my treasure. Well, not only did this dress not really resemble the product advertised, the damn thing looked like a home ec project. Mismatched seams, unfinished buttonholes, random unsnipped threads hanging every which way, and THE SMELL. I later learned to sew, and even my crudest, clumsiest early efforts were better executed than this piece of trash. Anthro promptly refunded my money, including my shipping, and I moved on with my life. A few weeks (months?) later, I got a fascinating letter of apology from Anthropology, which was apparently sent out to every unfortunate person who purchased this piece of trash. Since then, I have only bought about three pieces from there. To be fair, my aesthetic has really changed, but I have also learned to refuse to pay $109 for a cheaply made t-shirt with about 1/3 yard of fabric. And those adorable skirts? I really CAN make them myself, faster, cheaper, and with emminently better materials. Also, I just never got over the StinKAY Dress Incident. Thus endeth my anthro rant.
On Let's Discuss the Merits of Anthropologie (The Clothing Store, Not the Discipline)
When I was in law school, I scrimped and saved and dropped about $200 on a dress from Anthro. This was long before they opened in Austin, we were poor as church mice, etc., so this was a big deal for me. It was a French toile de jouy/gauz y dress (what in the hell was I thinking, BTW!?!?) and I could not wait for it to arrive. The first clue that something was terribly, terribly amiss was the fact that the padded mailing envelope made the communal mailboxes stink like poo. Still, ever the glutton for punishment, I raced up the stairs (in a side note, these same stairs were later condemned because we lived in such a safe, classy complex) to rip open my treasure. Well, not only did this dress not really resemble the product advertised, the damn thing looked like a home ec project. Mismatched seams, unfinished buttonholes, random unsnipped threads hanging every which way, and THE SMELL. I later learned to sew, and even my crudest, clumsiest early efforts were better executed than this piece of trash. Anthro promptly refunded my money, including my shipping, and I moved on with my life. A few weeks (months?) later, I got a fascinating letter of apology from Anthropology, which was apparently sent out to every unfortunate person who purchased this piece of trash. Since then, I have only bought about three pieces from there. To be fair, my aesthetic has really changed, but I have also learned to refuse to pay $109 for a cheaply made t-shirt with about 1/3 yard of fabric. And those adorable skirts? I really CAN make them myself, faster, cheaper, and with emminently better materials. Also, I just never got over the StinKAY Dress Incident. Thus endeth my anthro rant.