See, Mike Albo also doesn't know who the fuck buys Theory!!! The mystery is still not solved. I want answers. John (rach2jic) also doesn't know, I remember discussing it. Banana Republic clothes at inflated prices, wtf?
It's a witty article, worth reading (trust me, I wouldn't post an article on Theory otherwise).
http://www.nytimes.com/2007/06/14/fa...gewanted=print
If You Really Need the Big Price Tag
If You Really Need the Big Price Tag
WHEN I walked up to Theory?s
flagship store in the meatpacking district, I saw a model teetering
outside on the uneven cobblestones of Gansevoort Street, getting some
last-minute touch-ups for a photo shoot. She was wearing a
cream-colored coat that was gathered in the back with clips, like an
exoskeletal spine.
Around the corner on Greenwich was a line of movie trailers, humming
with individual air-conditioners, waiting to shelter Kate Winslet and Leonardo DiCaprio, who were apparently filming somewhere down the street.
I needed this boost of hype before entering the chillingly large
interior of Theory, which offers oddly simple clothes at prices that
would make no sense unless Leo and a bunch of models were around.
There weren?t many people in the store, but that may just be because
it is so huge you don?t see other people right away. The vast
high-ceiling space is divided between men?s and women?s apparel, with a
central pit of plush beige couches and a smattering of shoes on tables,
along with art books, bags and sunglasses. Garments hang from racks
suspended from the ceiling, and I began thumbing through them, trying
to find something that my low-limit credit card could cope with. This
was not easy.
A simple yellow and gray striped sweater and a blue shirt in a
slightly buckled poplin were each $225. I gravitated toward a pair of
summery seersucker pants for $195, but after trying them on, I realized
they were as wide-legged as some similar pants I have that were my
grandpa?s. Shorts were available in the style for $165, but I couldn?t
stop thinking about the $30 of leg material that was absent from them.
There were Sole Surfer flip-flops for $20, and on two small tables, a
few skin care products as well as candles, available in masculine
scents. ?They?re mandles!? a salesperson said. (The people who work
here all seem kind of fun to be around.)
I found a long-sleeve henley in a long-john weave of cool,
beautifully soft viscose for $125. When I tried it on, it fit like a
second skin, but I didn?t think that I was cocky enough to wear it.
This was a top for Johnny Drama on ?Entourage? or one of the many
stylized dudes who must pass through these doors every day.
The meatpacking district vibrates and throbs with so much trendiness
and so many models and tan people that it has become an epicenter of
conspicuous taste that rivals Robertson Boulevard in Los Angeles. And
Theory is like the area?s City Hall.
Founded in 1997 by Andrew Rosen, Theory is owned by Link Theory Holdings, a Japanese company that recently bought and revamped Helmut Lang.
It moved to this corner building in November. Viewed from outside, it
looks governmental, but as you roam the gorgeous first floor, you sense
that above you, every detail of your experience has been carefully
planned.
Considering the cost of the renovation, Theory must be doing
something right. It seems to have found a niche for itself: a
contemporary clothing brand that is just a tiny silk thread away from
being a designer label but isn?t one. The clothes stay as basic as
Banana Republic for the small/medium/large mind-set while trying to be
as distinctive as a designer brand like Marc Jacobs, which these clothes seem to emulate in both their understated preppie-cool style as well as their price tags.
It is here that you can get your basic white V-neck T-shirt in a
soft cotton fabric for $65. Or, over in the women?s section, a black
silk blouse for $275 and a tiny cropped black leather bomber for $815.
These garments are given names that sound like the monikers of
models who work and party outside its doors: Danton, Ares, Zander. The
fabrics and colors get special titles, too, so a pair of brown shorts
are not just shorts, but Jace in Quest fabric and Coffee Bean color.
BUT no matter how seductive the feel, particular the fit or
ingenious the categorization, I can?t get over how expensive these
clothes are. But then, I am not someone who can just order drink after
drink at the Hotel Gansevoort with cavalier joy and talk about how fun
it is to be tricoastal.
For me, high prices are justified if I can fool myself into thinking
that something is a luxury brand or created by some mastermind with a
unique vision of the world. The clothes here do not offer as much wit,
passion or unity of theme as could be had for the same amount at, say,
Marc by Marc or John Varvatos. One rack, for instance, held business
shirts in sullen blue and gray checks and stripes. They fit nicely, but
couldn?t I go online to Lands? End and custom-order something similar?
That way I would at least have the satisfaction of getting more
attention to personal detail.
Then something scary happened to me. The longer I was in the store,
the more I began to internalize the inflated prices. My basic scale of
value was unmoored, and as I searched a rack of sober blue shirts, I
started justifying the prices. ?Wow! This is only $145! That?s way less
than the $225 shirt a rack away! It?s a steal!?
This led me to buy the stretchy Klaus shirt in Studio with Black
Ticing (a cotton/poly/nylon weave in a thin black and white stripe) and
the Kale in a Bengal Stripe of White/Sapphire, basically a cotton
button-down in the conservative blue and white stripe of a banker. They
seared my credit card as if it were a tuna steak.
For all my griping, I do kind of love what I bought. I wore my Klaus
shirt that night and felt pretty special. For Leo, who will probably
stop by between scenes, coming here may be like me lazily going to Old
Navy or Target. Sick of free Valentino and Louis Vuitton, he can dash
in for mandles, flip-flops and new duds for Clooney?s Italian mansion
party. See? Everyone needs basic knock-around clothes, even here in the
excessive Bizarro World economy of the meatpacking district.
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