Don't get me wrong, I love Anthropologie. Who wouldn't? It is a magical place scented with an intoxicating mixture of geranium candles, twee(d), and Zooey Deschanel's skin, and is staffed by a faerie army of adorable hip librarians. Trust me, the next time I need a King Louis sofa stuffed with shredded French novels and autumn leaves, that's where I'm going.
But despite its lovely and carefully calculated atmosphere, Anthropologie walks a very thin line between the eccentric and the downright tacky. Just a reminder, Tacky is only a crocheted birdhouse away . . .
But despite its lovely and carefully calculated atmosphere, Anthropologie walks a very thin line between the eccentric and the downright tacky. Just a reminder, Tacky is only a crocheted birdhouse away . . .
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