The Anthropologie Catalog: America’s Only Legal Hallucinogen

When my Anthropologie catalog arrives in the mail, it’s a true cause for celebration- I can thumb through its pages and blissfully lose myself in a mind-blowing alternate reality that Tim Burton himself would envy, a place where gigantic scissors, paper chickens, and four foot houses are completely normal.

But don’t take my word for it– See for yourself. If you lived in the weird world of Anthropologie, here’s what life would look like:

Your mail carrier would despise you.

 

 
You’d volunteer your time giving motivational speeches to woodland creatures.

 

You’d consider your new shoe storage method to be adorably twee…  at least until it rained.

 

Undaunted, you’d come up with a Plan B.

 

Your shopping addiction would force you to squat in a condemned house with no heat or running water, but damn, girl. You’d look GOOD.

 

Your sleeping habits would be… shall we say… unorthodox.

 

Truly unorthodox.

 

Your plans for a carefree game of badminton…

 

…would go pathetically awry.

 

Archery would have even more vexing results.

 

…

 
 

You’d constantly bitch about all the time you spent cleaning up after your enormous paper pet chicken.

 

It would only take one photo from your kitchen to convince the judge to award temporary legal guardianship to your parents.

 
 

 You’d make Epic Bedhead the hottest hairstyle since The Rachel.

 

You’d be sad that your Bridal Hula Hoop idea never really took off.

 
 

You’d be a fashion risk-taker– daring to wear white pants places white pants have never been worn before.

 

You’d finally figure out a way to never lose your keys again.

 

When you told people you never cleaned your house, you’d mean it.

 

You’d wonder why your dates never called again after you invited them back to your place for the first time.

 

Even shrubbery would give you an excuse to call attention to yourself.

 

You’d spend your life trying to prove that no one could live without a pair of your patented Gigantic Scissors.

 

You’d fervently pray that the giant balloon you carry with you everywhere would alert someone- anyone- that you were hopelessly lost in the garden labyrinth.

 

You’d find the perfect way to recycle your outdated bags.

 
 

 You’d dream of one day living in a world where people could accept your need to live in a house that was four feet high.

 
 

 You’d attempt to set the Guinness World Record for Best Dressed Woman in a Root Cellar. Unfortunately, no one from Guinness would agree to come out and witness your efforts.

 

 Garden spades would turn you on.

 

Now if you’ll excuse me, I think I need to go lie down.

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All images courtesy of Anthropologie