They could have named it “Archaelogie.”
Artifacts from not-so-distant times decorate this retailer, aimed at “sophisticated and contemporary women aged 30 to 45.”
Each store tries to create an emotional connection with its customers by using tableaux in its displays, mixing product lines together and adding whimsical touches from the past.
Shredded newspapers served as the window display on one visit. And on the latest trip, light wooden Popsicle sticks glued together moved in a flowing mobile over the ceiling. A standalone mirror with distressed wooden edges added nostalgia.
This brand seemed too trendy to choose to analyze for class, but a recent required mall visit increased my fascination. I’m slightly more than a year older than the target audience; my daughter is just over 13 years younger. Her fascination, almost love, for the store, and my slight disdain and reluctance to open my wallet intrigue me, given the company’s target audience.
She’s happy with faux antiques; I want the real thing. Or maybe it’s more complicated.
The company line: “Our core strategy is to provide unified
store environments that establish emotional bonds with the customer.”
Instead of relying on just pleasing colors and shapes, the stores use emotion-laden objects to make a cultural appeal to a specific niche audience. Its brand becomes stronger because the embedded emotions narrow its audience. There is no “flatman” here (I have yet to check the bathroom labels, if any).
All the emotion carries a danger of creating unintended reactions, as demonstrated in the New York Times article by Alex Kuczynski. Who would have thought the stores’ well-worn artifacts would have brought up thoughts of divorce, impermanence and dispersal?
For my child, these artifacts carry none of that baggage. (Though I’m sure other artifacts would). She thinks of creative grandmothers and grandfathers, and I’m guessing she imagines her own place someday, filled with “tchotchkes” giving tribute to the best parts of the past. The clothing and fabrics look fresh and new to her.
Those same “tchotchkes” create disdain in me. I have my own, already, thank you, and accumulate more each year as my far-flung elders continue to divest themselves of things. My tchotchkes are real, and connected to real history.
And the design and fabrics of clothing conjure up memories of clothing gone out of style at least once before.
Wide leather belts? Been there, done that. Big square sunglasses? Bought them, for my daughter. Wish I hadn’t thrown out my own from 30 years ago.
Coming soon: WWMD? (What would Martha Stewart do?)
4 comments:
I am no where near being the target audience for this store, and if there was one in the area, I'd probably be found on a bench outside it. That being said, all the popcicle sticks etc. must be making some kind of connection with their audience. You present a good viewpoint coming from a different angle than the NYT article.
Everything old is new again, eh?
My hobbies include some of the things you describe in your post, so maybe I'd be intrigued by a visit to one of their stores. Of course, my wife is not in their demographic and my only child is a son, so I'm not likely to be there anytime soon.
Maybe your son can go play in the Apple store, just a few stores down at Southpark.
My dad at age 70 would probably appreciate a visit, but he has his own real antique house in Pennsylvania to work on.
He did have an antique store for awhile, and loved to restore old wooden furniture to new beauty. His shopping spots were flea markets and estate sales, where one gets the real buys. I think Anthropologie promises all that without the dust and dirt.
What appealed to my dad was the ability to see and restore beauty despite the dust and the dirt.
I've never been in an anthropologie store, but I have been in Urban Outfitters, and I can certainly see some similarities from the way you've described the store. I'm pretty sure that I noticed an Anthropologie store down in my old neighborhood here in Chicago (where there are lots of little expensive boutiques that I could never afford) and I know there's one downtown. Your postings have made me want to check it out, even though I'm pretty sure I won't buy anything.
Post a Comment