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Anthropologie is the type of store that will make a customer who’s susceptible to its kitschy, whimsical branding splurge on all sorts of products: overpriced twine, novelty door knobs, high-end toilet brushes, a $9,000 glamping tent.
It’s with this inventive attitude about what constitutes a necessity that Anthropologie is venturing into new territory: luxury wellness.
This week the company launched Wellness by Anthropologie in 12 different stores in New York, California, Arizona, Texas, Illinois, Washington, DC, Oregon, and Connecticut, with more locations planned for the fall. There are now special sections within stores dedicated to luxury crystals, essential oil sets, fancy tea mixtures, and bottles upon bottles of dietary supplements dubbed “beauty powders.”
Anthropologie is precisely the type of store that would sell giant fancy crystals and delicate bottles of essential oils. And in typical Anthropologie fashion, Catherine Moellering, the brand’s general merchandise manager of its beauty department, says that the wellness products it sells “are both beautiful and effective.”
“Our customer approaches wellness in a holistic and individual way and is looking for ideas, products, and solutions that are easy to integrate into her lifestyle,” says Moellering. “In keeping with Anthropologie’s core philosophy, the wellness assortment offers meaningful solutions that are simple and convenient while also a joy to look at and have in the home.”
Wellness by Anthropologie is two years in the making. The company initially tested the concept, which is also featured on its website, at its store in Palo Alto, California. Moellering says shoppers reacted well (given the location, and the rate of disposable income, that isn’t too surprising), so Anthropologie decided to roll wellness out to more stores.
At the Rockefeller Center location of Anthropologie in New York City, the newly curated section is set up right in front of the cash registers, in a space that’s now shared with Anthropologie’s home and beauty sections. Shoppers are greeted by a giant cloth sign introducing them to the wellness assortment: “We believe that happy is healthy, that nature nurtures, that beauty begins within,” the sign chirps.
Its wellness assortment is curated into three categories. First, the “Mind” section is for crystals, aromatherapy, and books and journals. Anthropologie now sells $119 crystals, trays of aromatherapy pendant necklaces, bowls of bundled dried sage, scented candles with crystals baked into the wax, and $120 essential oil diffusers from brands like Virtruvi and Pilgrim.
The “Home” section features household, pantry, and cleaning items. There’s $55 aromatherapy eye pillows, nut milk (mylk?) bags, $70 lunch boxes from Prepd, $98 crystal-infused water bottles, bento boxes, all-natural countertop sprays, and $75 pour-over coffee sets.
The “Body” section is where Anthropologie seems to be taking a page out of Goop’s textbook. It has teas and honeys, vitamin supplements, and self-care. This section includes $34 “digital detox” bath salts and high-end oral hygiene sets with charcoal toothpaste and toothbrushes in delicate glass cases. Nestled between giant air plants on one table stands a $320 retro Smeg blender, which sits next to tubes of protein powder and bins filled with smoothie-dedicated vitamin dusts, not unlike those Moon Juice ones. There are entire shelving units dedicated to dietary supplements, like “Collagen Beauty Water,” and “Cleanse” and “Glow” “inner beauty powders,” as well as “Runway Ready” and “Uber Energy” vitamin packets. Anthro also features a version of those gummy bear hair supplements the Kardashians are notorious for pushing.
Anthropologie packages and sells the wellness world perfectly. Luxury crystals are on display in giant glass display domes; essential oils and sprays for yoga mats chill on woven tapestries. Dietary supplements used to be marketed as an answer to weight loss and cellulite, but Anthropologie’s are all about cleansing, clarity, centering your emotions, and making your skin glow. They aren’t stuffed onto shelves under fluorescent light bulbs either, but glisten under mood lighting, accented by ceramic-potted succulents. Simply put, its branding of vitamins and supplements could give struggling GNC and the Vitamin Shoppe, which haven’t embraced the current aesthetic of wellness, a run for their money.
While Anthropologie knows that its typically middle-class customer has been curious about this realm, Moellering adds that many might not embrace the more esoteric corners of the Goop world, which might explain why Anthro isn’t selling any vagina eggs (not yet, anyway).
“So much of what has been available in the wellness space has felt extreme and exclusive and we wanted to offer a more inclusive and welcoming approach to wellness,” says Moellering. “The Wellness by Anthropologie shops allow our customer to explore all the products in an environment where she can see, touch, and feel them in order to find what works best for her.”
Of course, when anyone steps into wellness, there’s much to be wary of, like the dubious claims of dietary supplements and essential oils. There’s little regulation by the Food and Drug Administration about dietary products and supplements, and any scientific studies boasting its effectiveness come with doubt and suspicion.
So far, it seems that Anthropologie is, indeed, hawking wellness without any skepticism. Promotional signs at the Rockefeller store are telling customers that the charcoal cubes its selling “draws impurities from the air,” and that a starter set of crystals “helps you heal, focus, transmit, and channel energy.” It’s also selling those sketchy teatoxes that have taken over Instagram, and as Racked has previously reported, those involve shady promises about weight loss that are actually contingent on laxative ingredients, and aren’t recommended by nutritionists, despite whatever those D-list reality TV stars write in their sponcon. As a mall brand, these products could potentially be misleading to the very young women and suburban grandmothers Anthropologie is known to simultaneously attract.
Moellering wouldn’t comment on whether Anthropologie was concerned about promoting pseudoscience, or who was testing, approving, and certifying its products. (This is something for which Goop has received plenty of flak, and is something the company is trying to address by making claims on its website more transparent.)
Moellering did mention, though, that Anthropologie is adopting the category because it subscribes to “the idea that a series of small changes can lead to a major shift in healthy living.”
Of course, there’s also a huge profit potential. According to the Global Wellness Institute, wellness is a $3.7 trillion industry, when you count up all the money people spend on spa treatments, essential oils, juice cleanses, crystals, yoga practices, and all-things Gwyneth Paltrow-endorsed.
Anthropologie, which is owned by parent company Urban Outfitters Inc, has weathered fairly well within the retail industry’s current dumpster-fire of a world, and its intoxicating store experience is something Amazon will never be able to capture. But the brand has also faced criticism in the past for selling a fashion assortment that seems all over the place. In March of last year, the Washington Post mocked the company for trying to sell $400 flowy beach caftans to allure wealthy shoppers, instead of focusing on feminine, quirky designs that are “worn to brunch or a bridal shower.” Roxy, a loyal Anthropologie blogger wrote in 2016 that its “design team can’t seem to get their finger properly on the pulse of what its customer wants.”
To thrive as a retailer today, brands must lean into opportunities beyond clothing, and Anthropologie is doing just that. In 2016, it rolled out big beauty departments, filled with indie and clean beauty brands, and its beauty business has seen double-digit growth. It also started a superstore concept, called Anthropologie & Co., which mimics the department store model but breathes life into it with beautiful store layouts, restaurants, and home decorating centers.
Wellness is just the next step in the company’s immaculately decorated, Regina Spektor-soundtracked lifestyle, and the Anthro shopper will most likely open her wallet to buy in.