(All images from Anthropologie)
A little while ago, I came across this hilarious article on the feminist site Jezebel. As someone who’s more than once lost herself in the fantasies of catalog living, the article definitely hit home. I think I spent my teenage years living in Delia*s, my undergrad days in J.Crew, and my more recent time in Anthropologie. (Just to clarify – my life has at no point actually resembled the lives and fantasies sold by each catalog, I just would lose myself in the make-belief of them the way I’d lose myself in a good novel).
Although I should know better by now, I’m still by no means immune to this type of seduction. Sure, Anthropologie’s sometimes strange appropriation of other cultures in a quest to present ‘exoticism’ makes me a bit uneasy and I may not be able to touch most of their price tags with a ten foot pole, but their gratuitous inclusion of books and bikes still makes my heart go pitter-patter. And it doesn’t hurt that their clothes are truly gorgeous.
Are my affections that easily bought? Yes. Yes, they are.