Sophisticated Sell

The Anthropologie woman is not so much conflicted as she is resistant to categorization. Her identity is a tangle of connections to activities, places, interests, values, and aspirations. She's not married with two kids: She's a yoga-practicing filmmaker with an organic garden, a collection of antique musical instruments, and an abiding interest in Chinese culture (plus a husband and two kids). It's no coincidence that Julia Roberts is the celebrity avatar of Anthropologie. Not only is she a frequent shopper (along with many of Hollywood's strongest-minded women, including Susan Sarandon, Sharon Stone, and Madonna), but her bohemian-chic wardrobe in The Mexican was Anthropologie sourced.

The attraction of Anthropologie is that it revels in the nuance and complexity of these women and the world they live in. And the power of its approach lies in its ability to create a vibrant, comfortable zone where they can put the puzzle of their multiplex, hybrid lives together.

Style: From Upscale Homeless to Humble Luxury
In his book, Bobos in Paradise: The New Upper Class and How They Got There (Simon & Schuster, 2000), David Brooks casts Wayne, Pennsylvania as the classic Bobo (bourgeois bohemian) outpost. Typically ahead of the curve, Anthropologie arrived in the Philadelphia suburb as a prototype store in 1992, a few years before the encroachment of gourmet coffeehouses, high-end bistros, and health-food supermarkets.

Richard Hayne, the founder and chairman of Urban Outfitters, first demonstrated his ability to limn the lifestyle of a core customer group 32 years ago. He nailed the shopping, sleeping, and furnishing habits of the upper-middle-class college kid with Urban Outfitters. Today, the 52-store chain is an emporium for "upscale homeless" -- men and women, 18 to 30, whose purchasing behavior is still driven by their social lives. The impetus for Anthropologie was straightforward: Hayne and his wife and friends had outgrown Urban Outfitters, and they needed a new outpost to reflect their changing lifestyle.

Hayne enlisted architect Ron Pompei, who has led the creative direction of every Urban and Anthropologie space, to help envision an experience for the post-Urban generation. Hayne's training as an anthropologist informed the process. The two spent nearly two years on a "cultural odyssey" -- traveling, reading, visiting museums and exhibitions, attending cultural events, and scouring outdoor markets. What surfaced in the course of this amateur anthropological dig, says Pompei, "was a return to an earthier sensibility. We saw things that were tactile and visceral. Things that engaged the whole body. Texture was very important. Storytelling was central."

These clues translated into two driving aspects of a retail concept. First, in a nod to the shift from mating to nesting, Pompei says, "We developed Anthropologie as a place for them just to be. The way people evaluate themselves and others boils down to three things: what they have, what they do, or who they are. The mainstream culture focuses on what you have. Recently, what you do has become more important. We wanted to respond to the shift toward 'who you are.' "

Second, the founders didn't just want their customers to be ; they wanted them to grow . "We wanted to create an experience that would set up the possibility of change and transformation," says Pompei, "where the visitor's imagination was just as important as that of the designer." The store's creators hoped to spark "interaction on a new level," says Pompei. "People would start to connect the dots in their own way and tell themselves a personal story."

The chain doesn't simply sell an unprecedented mix of wares -- home furnishings, bedding, apparel, antiques, gifts -- it provides a range of ideas . Of course, retailers like Ralph Lauren and Martha Stewart have always sold their sensibility along with their things. But where those lifestyle purveyors tend to model perfection and prescribe one style, Anthropologie offers up diverse starting points and a multitude of cues to set the customer on her own path. If the stores have an ethos, it's imperfection, eclecticism, and quirkiness. If they adhere to an aesthetic, it's "low country" -- the humble luxuries of peasant heritage, whether French farmhouse or Ukranian folk art. "I wouldn't call it a retail store," says Pompei. "It's a place where culture and commerce intersect. It's more like the Silk Road -- a sense of exploration mixed with the exchange of things and ideas."

Stores: Path of Discovery
Anthropologie's approach to its stores flips many of the conventions of retail on their head. For instance: selling things. Glen Senk is quick to say, "Our customers are our friends, and what we do is never, ever, ever about selling to them." Advertising and merchandising in most chains is about selling the Thing of the Moment (stretch denim!) to the largest number of people. Anthropologie doesn't advertise, and the merchandising does not highlight product so much as set a mood and create context.