9.10.2004

Oh jeez, this is the most hilarious ad copy I've seen in forever. When I lived in Philly I spent a weekend writing samples about picnic tables and ceramic mugs and floral tablecloths to apply for a catalog copy job at Anthropologie and they sort of strung me along then never let me know either way. During that time I went out on a date with a guy who was a freaking suburban slumlord but got all up in my grill about my trying to get such a job "selling people things they don't need." I think he would have been happier if I were weaving little Guatemalan-y purses and peddling them on South Street. This guy also kept referring to his previous stressful life as an engineer as a time when he was addled with emotionally rooted "dis-ease. You know: Dis. Ease. Dis-ease. Get it?"

I think Californians have a free pass on that one but anyone from Philly running around talking like Louise Hay gets the gas face, no?

Anyway, I think that Anthropologie could totally start its own viral strain of chick-lit. Meghan Daum has mentioned that her website designers went for such a vibe. Last time I was browsing there, Anthropologie only sold a few books--little unabashedly non-literary picture books about clothes and cocktails and, I'm sure, shoes. But keep an eye out--their customers are rich white women in their thirties and forties: the same demographic as the bookclub ladies who buy so very many books. This new trend, I'm thinking: not so much Barbie-pink covers with legs and dumb-ass purses and heels, but muted browns and mauves with ruffly chiffon curtains, antique iron bedframes, and (almost?) sexy granny coats. A new look for fluff. What will the books be about? Who cares. You heard it here first.

--Elizabeth
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