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| Typical Anthropologie setting from their catalogue |
The minute I step into an Anthropologie store I feel like I am home, but not my home, as odd as that may sound. There is something about the smell of the store, the great lighting, the bright colors and perfectly feminine furniture (without being all pink) that calls to me. I take a deep breath upon entering and know that I am amongst my people. Or rather, amongst the people who have a place only within my imagination. The problem is, you (and when I say YOU, I am speaking to Anthropologie as a fond friend) transport me to a mecca I can only dream about. You are the representation of how I feel life should be for each and every person, but rarely if ever is. Standing on your faux-sanded wooden farmhouse floors, amongst your clusters of light bulbs turned avant-garde chandeliers with the smell of romantic scented candles lilting on your tables, I realize I've done it all wrong. And by "it", I unfortunately mean Life. The subtle but charming french music playing in the background makes me feel like I've always had a fondness for French music, and surely I must buy some. If only I could go back in time and live in the mysterious lands found on the pages of your catalogue. If only I could have perfectly tosseled locks, doe eyes, flushed cheeks, and the eternal youth of the models in your catalogue. Knowing I can’t afford your Into-the-Woods-Dress and thus will never be able to stand like your model does at the foot of a glacier, bare armed yet warm, is more than I can live with at times. It pains me to accept that I could scale mountains in four-inch platform heels if only I had the Lunar Puzzle Mary Janes! I struggle knowing that without your Lasercut Fleur-De-Lys Sheath skirt, complete with “choreographed flounce,” life will just never have that je ne sais quod that I so desire. I love the slight flutter of excitement I feel as your much anticipated catalogue arrives in my mailbox every month. The photography itself is worthy of a museum! For a few precious moments perusing your pages, I am transported from a life of occasional drudgery, messes, and too much responsibility to a world of perfect simplicity and elegance. But alas, soon after I am done contemplating your pages, I am just as quickly dissatisfied with my life and happiness flies out the window. So as much as I love you, I also hate you for pointing out that my life does not have the beauty, creativity, and serenity that you possess every time I walk in your doors or take in the pages of your catalogue. I always knew somewhere within me, there must be something better out there, but until I found you, I held out hope that there wasn't so that I could remain satisfied with my life. Ho hum. I suppose I will have to just be satisfied with the few moments I get every month to disappear into your pages, or to soak in the sights and smells of your store a few times per year. Until next time, Anthropologie. Until next time.
Anthropologie pictures that make me swoon:
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| Why oh why can't this be my bedroom?! |
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| Shouldn't everyone have an atrium like this in their house? |
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| Shouldn't everyone have natural beauty like this? |
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| Or have a tree like this in their yard? And a pink bike to match? |
4 comments:
Please write a book and include your photography - it would be awesome. OK back to the subject- I have a love/hate relationship with these types of places. I appreciate the art and superior taste involved, but I know it is an illusion. I think real life involves loving ugly and dirty reality. People are not all beautiful, taste is often tacky, illness, accident and tragedy are common. Art, style, stories, imagination have their place - where all is tied up in a pretty, perfect bow - but if I try to make it my life it fails, or it fails to bring the happiness it suggests. Or the high cost starts to make me feel like I am a fool. Not that I might not love a purchase for a time. But what I do like is the thinking outside of the box. Why not a pink bike? Why not a red corsage for no reason? Why not a fancy bed in a large warehouse room? Why not try different types of music? Why not sit outside in a pretty dress and listen to perfect birds sing? I am rambling now with no clear direction.
I needed this. I came back from a blissful anniversary get away a few days ago and I've been resenting getting back to reality since. Maybe I should order more clothing catalogs.
As I started to read your blog I thought me too but then I realized I was in the wrong catalogue. Mine wouldn't take me back to the tranquility of France but the quaintness of England. I understood the longing to be in the those gardens. I saw a picture of a lady harvesting lavender and I thought oh, that's my life, infact everytime I drive by Mona Lake here in Utah there is a lavender farm and I've thought how heavenly. Funny, when I go into your home there is an atomsphere of grandeur and strength. Everything is bold and large and it gives a feeling of security and protection while also giving you a feeling of love and family. Every holiday your place is a delight and fantasy and everyday haven of love for your family. You feel it. You see it. It may not be in France but you've created a home from a house of walls and for your kids it is a lovely dream of reality.
SIGH. This post was so enjoyable to read. I too, have perused the pages of that masterpiece catalogue and wondered in amazement what it would be like to have a mind that creative to design those clothes, those backdrops, those decorations that are so unique and even bizarre upon entering the store. I love how they find ordinary things such as brown butcher paper and can crinkle it up in such a way that it looks so high fashion when displayed along the wall of clothing. Or the tree branches that are mossy and have peeling bark that hang sleepily over the racks of pencil skirts and wavy blouses. I'd love to have a creative mind like that and I would love nothing more than to walk into my house and have it smell like that, with an Anthropologie music station filtering through out my house at all times. SIGH. That store and those clothes are really in another realm aren't they? Maybe that's what heaven will be like. I'd like that. P.S. I wish I could walk around with a gigantic fresh flower on the top of my head like the models do, or drink out of whimsical tea cups at all times and wear brightly patterned aprons when cooking!
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