Anthropologie Anthropologie I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again — I could just live in an Anthropologie store. I mean, somebody did it at a Wal-Mart, right? I’m sure I could get away with it. Sure, I’d miss my family and the cats and my espresso machine, but it might be worth it. And here’s the thing: I know that it’s all marketing. I know that there are meetings in boardrooms at Anthropologie HQ when people sit around and say, “If we put the yellow plates here and the blue bowls there and if we hang that cashmere sweater next to the embroidered jacket with the green purse underneath, it will drive them mad crazy with desire.” And they’re right — it does. I fall for it every time. Whenever I walk into an Anthropologie store, I want absolutely every thing I see, regardless of price or age-appropriateness or even if I had any sort of plan to wear/use/read/eat from/drink out of it.


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