How Pottery Barn Wins With Style

The Design of Everyday Things

Deep in the heart of San Francisco's warehouse district -- an area that became known as Multimedia Gulch during the heady days of dotcom fever -- the design team charged with keeping Pottery Barn stuffed with innovative products occupies 28,000 square feet of space in a four-story terra-cotta-colored former mayonnaise factory.

It's no accident that the cheerfully cluttered workshop is three miles across town from the suits and bean counters at Williams-Sonoma's corporate headquarters. Indeed, having separate digs for the designers was part of the deal that Celia Tejada struck when she agreed to join the company.

Tejada, Pottery Barn's senior vice president for design and product development, began developing the company's design studio in 1996. Since then, the company has grown to 160 stores in 37 states and Canada and spawned two offshoots, Pottery Barn Kids and the recently announced catalog PBteen. A small, vivacious Spaniard who grew up in a village of 53 people in the foothills of the Pyrenees, Tejada is the alchemist behind Pottery Barn's design philosophy. Prior to her arrival, Pottery Barn was a merchant-driven company: Buyers would acquire merchandise from outside vendors and assemble it into a collection. Tejada, a former high-end furniture and fashion designer, was appalled at the strategy. "I said to them, 'How can you be a big company if you don't own your own destiny?' "

Lured out of a "smell the roses" break that she had given herself after the birth of her second son, Tejada agreed to come on board, under two conditions: first, that she could establish a separate design division, structured around a vertically integrated team that would own every part of the process -- from conceiving the look of the products to designing them to sourcing and overseeing manufacturing. And second, that she, like any self-respecting European, could take the month of August off, to go home to Spain.

Tejada currently runs a staff of 33 designers who create concepts for Pottery Barn, Pottery Barn Kids, and PBteen. More than 95% of the brand's merchandise is now exclusive. And while the corporate number crunchers and strategists are not allowed to work in the studio, they're still a key part of product development, meeting there each Wednesday to talk about upcoming lines and to preview merchandising plans that are being worked out in the ministore space on the third floor.

To pass muster with Tejada and her team, a potential new product at Pottery Barn needs to meet the requirements of a strict five-point test. First, it has to look good, but not be too cutting edge. "The goal is to be always ahead -- directional -- in a way that you can understand," Tejada says.

Second, the product has to feel good. "If it's a textile piece that feels rough to your skin," says Tejada, "it would not make the cut." Third, it must be of high quality. Fourth, it has to be durable. The question "Can the kids jump on it?" is a veritable mantra among Pottery Barn staffers, many of whom have children of their own to road-test the merchandise.

Finally, it must pass the ultimate hurdle: "I ask my designers, 'Will you take it home or give it as a present to your best friend?' " Tejada says. "If they hesitate, I say, 'Throw it in the garbage. Don't even bother.' Emotionally, it has to feel right."

Before launching a new product or line, Tejada and her team must work as much as a year in advance to allow time for sourcing, manufacturing, and shipping. That means that when the summer 2003 line -- a Latin theme, complete with paella plates and brightly colored umbrellas, hammocks, and lanterns -- appears in the stores, the design team is figuring out what consumers are likely to want in June 2004. It's a process that relies more on gut instinct than on rational science.

At Pottery Barn, there are no panels of focus groups and no teams of market researchers. To create a powerful lifestyle brand, Tejada says, you must first have a life. And the consequences of dodging one's responsibility to eat, drink, and be merry can be severe. "I tell my team, 'You will not get promoted or rewarded for working 20 hours a day,' " she says, her voice as firm as a headmistress addressing an unruly class.

If you want to create a brand that's inspirational, you can't lead a life that's dreary. "Are you ever envious of someone who's a workaholic, who doesn't take care of themselves? Who cares how much money that person has?" Tejada says, her voice rising. "Who cares?"

So staffers are encouraged to go to restaurants and notice how the tables are set. To scavenge flea markets for interesting artifacts. To cruise real-estate open houses and model homes, looking for new architectural and design trends. To entertain friends and note what products they wish that they had: a bigger platter, a nicer serving utensil, a better bowl for salsa -- anything that may be a good addition to the line.