If there’s anything that those of us in publishing can appreciate, it’s a good story. Over the years, Anthropologie has proven itself to be a master storyteller, particularly through their catalog. For me, receiving an Anthropologie catalog in the mail is like receiving the next installment of a very engaging story. I’m never sure exactly what format the story will take, where it will take place, and what fairytale will flutter out of its pages, but I can hardly wait for the next one to arrive.

What I’ve always appreciated about these catalogs is their willingness to push the creative boundaries of a typically quick-to-the-recycling-bin medium. While certainly in the business of selling fashion and housewares, Anthropologie also understands the significance of story as commodity. Think of that apple tart you bought because it smells like Fall and childhood trips to the orchard. Or the song you downloaded because it’s the song that was playing when you received your first kiss. Anthropologie’s catalogs are evocative and romantic, and take the recipient to a place that exists in one’s dreams. A place where wild spotted mushrooms grow from floorboards, where fabled characters step into knee-high leather boots you, too, can wear.

What makes the stories so strong are the bold creative visions and attention to detail. The photography shifts to fit the changing mood. The styling is art in itself, often transforming the simplest of materials into miniature lands, gypsy caravans, explosions of butterflies and grass. Scale shifts take you down the rabbit hole and into Wonderland. And like many a good story, there are new twists and turns in every telling, whether it be a change in trim or paper stock, an international cast of real people as models, favorite artists featured, or destinations miles off the usual tourist map.

In no other retail catalog I can think of would I see the Carl Sandburg quote, “Poetry is an echo, asking a shadow to dance.” In an Anthropologie world, they’re not only dancing, they’re throwing a masquerade ball.

Jennifer Tolo Pierce
Associate Design Director

Popularity: 1% [?]

About a week ago, I received an email from the folks at Martha Stewart Living asking me, an honored member of the Reader Advisory Panel (who knew?), to assist them in the difficult task of selecting one of two potential cover designs for the upcoming December issue. Consumer directed surveys from magazines and other businesses are not a new concept, but in the past months I’ve sensed a shift in the line of questioning, a shift that specifically addresses design issues.

My first inkling of this shift was a survey sent by Anthropologie regarding their catalog. As a huge fan of their catalog and as a former catalog designer, I had plenty to say and was pleased to see so many questions targeted specifically to not only shopping habits (typical retail survey fare) but also to matters of design. Now, I am not usually one who enjoys taking surveys and have delivered many a polite “I’m not interested” to persistent telemarketers. But both Martha Stewart Living and Anthropologie are companies I follow and respect, so the opportunity to comment on the design of their publications was too good for the inner design student in me to resist. The experience left me with the heady feeling of those “choose your own adventure” books I read as a child—the empowering feeling that I was captain of the ship, steering its course towards my dream destination. In these instances, I was steering the ship towards my dream publication, or if I was to stretch the metaphor even further, my dream way of life.

Consumer involvement and customization are noticeable trends across all sectors, from online communities (MySpace) and book covers (My Penguin) to beauty products (Olay for You) and entertainment (audience-judged American Idol). By engaging someone as an individual with valued preferences and opinions, these companies are building loyalty and a ready-made audience. Someone who feels invested in the process is much more likely to stick around to see and partake of the outcome.

Images from My Penguin: The Gallery

Images by Beck, Razorlight, and Ryan Adams from My Penguin: The Bands

I’ll admit that I received the Martha Stewart survey with mixed emotions. I had a hard time reconciling that a publication known for it’s high design standard and iron-clad brand was asking me, a reader, to weigh in on the all-important holiday issue cover (not to mention the implicit design and branding ramifications that accompany each of the two options). Was Martha Stewart Living sailing rocky waters and looking for the masses to direct its course? Or was this survey a savvy demonstration of securing loyalty by engaging the audience in the decision-making process (especially if change is being considered)? I, myself, couldn’t help but feel that I had been honored in some way by being momentarily handed the helm of the ship, especially when that ship was Martha Stewart Living. Many of you might be thinking that I’m reading a lot into a few online surveys. But hearing directly from the consumer can only better a business and the products it creates, not to mention provide consumers with something they actually want. And the fact that design is an increasing focus of consumer feedback publicly reinforces design’s significance in the success of any business venture. And that, my friends, is a good thing.

Jennifer Tolo Pierce
Associate Design Director

Popularity: 2% [?]

When thinking of literature and book design, I imagine most people would be hard-pressed to think of even one poetry collection whose design simply stopped them in their tracks and inspired the utterance, “I. Must. Have. This.” Perhaps this is because the shock of getting published erases all other thoughts from the struggling poet’s brain. Perhaps the bottom line just doesn’t balance out in favor of design investment. Perhaps all involved actually like the “low-art” feel of the design. Whatever the reason, design has long been relegated to bottom of the list when it comes to poetry. Which is strange, because the two seem like such ideal bedfellows. Bert and Ernie. Gumby and Pokey. Wonder Twins activate! Granted there are a few poets who receive the red carpet treatment traditionally allotted for those other luminaries of the written word, but, let’s be honest. While these few superstars arrive in Prada and Givenchy, most of the poets are showing up in sweats.

So it was with wonder that I approached the stack of materials sent to us by designer Jeff Clark of Quemadura for our monthly portfolio review.

The books he had sent were arresting in themselves, but when I realized the book in my hands was a BOOK OF POETRY my heart started to race, the air left my lungs. Dare I say it—my hands began to tremble. And then I saw the next beautifully designed, considered book of poems. And the next. And it was like Dorothy landing in Oz, all gorgeous color and life, with the Wicked Witch of Design Drudgery dead as a doornail under the house.

For other poetry book design inspiration, see the American Poets Project series below:

Credits for the American Poets Project:
Creative director: Chip Kidd
Designer: Mark Melnick
Jacket designer: Mark Melnick
Publisher: The Library of America

Jennifer Tolo Pierce
Design Director

Popularity: 3% [?]

When the book Dirty Little Secrets from Otherwise Perfect Moms landed on my list, I didn’t realize at first how close to home some of the “secrets” would hit. I should have known better. As I read the manuscript and set the text, I heard Lauryn Hill covering “Killing Me Softly with His Song”: I felt he’d found my letters and read each one out loud. Yes, my two year old proudly announces, “That’s mommy’s water!” when he sees a bottle of wine. Yes, I often volunteer for a late night diaper run just so I can linger in the magazine section and catch up with Britney, Angelina, and the rest of the gang. Does a one year old really go to “school”? No, but it sure sounds better than “daycare.”

But it was one woman’s confession—“Sometimes I feel guilty for liking going to work so much”—that got me thinking. Work. Secrets. Surely moms aren’t the only ones with secrets? And what better way to feel better about my imperfect self than to coax confessions of imperfection from my fellow designers? Some were a little shy about coming forward, but I know that they feel lighter of heart for having shared. Here are just a few Dirty Little Secrets from Otherwise Perfect Designers:

Sometimes I try to Command Z something and I’m not even at the computer.

Some of my best designs happened by mistake.

After all of these years as a designer, I still can’t draw to save my life.

I never thought I’d shown design inclinations as a kid. But then I remember the greeting card business I started when I was nine and my obsession with creating the perfect monogram.

One night, after a week of long work hours, I dreamed of nothing but pulling green guides across a blank computer screen. For eight hours. Guide after guide after guide…

I can actually remember the days when design was all done by hand.

Nothing makes me madder than a poorly kerned billboard. Why would anyone want to advertise sloppy letter spacing at such a ridiculous scale?

When I’m visiting a friend’s house and left alone in a room, I rearrange objects ever so slightly to make a more aesthetically pleasing display.

I make type too small on purpose, so that when a client says, “Make the type bigger” I can actually make it be the size I want.

I cried openly when I stepped into the Alexander Girard exhibit at the Cooper Hewitt. I felt like I’d found home.

Jennifer Tolo Pierce
Design Director

Popularity: 5% [?]