At the risk of sounding like a nostalgic senior citizen, I can remember a time when one's coolness was directly proportionate to the number of clothing items from Abercrombie and Fitch that were hanging in one's closet.
Remember those days? If you were the hottest chick in the ninth-grade wing, you had better be wearing size 00 jeans bearing the overlapping semi-circles on the back pockets and a tight t-shirt proudly proclaiming "A&F 1982", "AF Spring Break", "Abercrombie New York NY", "Fitch", or other such permutations. Don't even think about showing up to the Bagel Bin after school if you were rocking an Aeropostale hoodie: you'd be better off walking home and stalking AIM away messages all afternoon.
Can anyone tell me what made this brand so appealing? Don't get me wrong: I realize that some of the jeans make the posterior look deceptively attractive, and there is nothing bad about that. But generally speaking, the clothes are over-priced, not true to size, poorly designed, generic, and of a quality that is mediocre at best and downright dismal at worst.
And worst of all, the store itself never fails to create an atmosphere that assaults the senses and makes one long for nothing more than a strong whiskey and a fistful of Tylenol. Tell me, what top-level executives sat in the board room at Abercrombie & Fitch's conception and said, "I think customers will buy more if we blast 45 billion decibels of techno music, dim the lights to the point that they can't distinguish blue from brown, and spray every square inch of space with the strongest, most pungent cologne known to mankind"? I suppose that, all things considered, it's not a bad strategy: after all, purse-or-wallet-wielding parents are so desperate to leave the store after 30 seconds of this torture that I don't doubt that they'd agree to buy their cool-in-training teenagers virtually anything in order to escape the hellhole.
It's not surprising that adolescents and teenagers have come to affiliate this brand with "coolness", given the hyper-sexual marketing strategies and the unique method of "customer service" employed by the company (and I use the phrase "customer service" very, VERY loosely). Aside from the shock value of the 98% naked minors in the catalogues and in-store marketing, the omnipresence of young, fit, exposed bodies in classy black-and-white delivers an unforgettable impact of sexy aspiration to the company's intended demographic. The young, fit, exposed bodies that are "working" in the store itself contribute to this image as well, and once again, I use the term "working" very loosely here, since I have yet to see these employees doing any actual work. It seems painfully obvious that the company trains its employees to be anything but friendly or welcoming to customers, instead treating them as an inconvenience and an encroachment upon their untouchable coolness. Employees are even told to great customers with a cold, half-muttered, "Hey, what's going on."
The clothes themselves have become laughably unattractive, impractical, unoriginal, and unbecoming over the years. There is essentially nothing that Abercrombie offers that I couldn't find elsewhere for a better value. Worse still, Abercrombie's versions of wardrobe staples are, to be blunt, ugly and poorly designed. I even found a color block dress there today (while enduring a booming techno version of Celine Dion's "To Love You More) that mixed two floral patterns so horrendous and tacky that I became genuinely nauseated. And this abomination was being sold for over $100. No retail experience should involve nausea and Celine Dion wailing over a thudding bass line.
The bottom line is, Abercrombie & Fitch continues to believe itself to be a lot cooler than it is. The adolescents, teenagers, and college students to whom Abercrombie is supposed to appeal are bombarded with overtly sexual marketing, high prices that anoint the brand with undeserving status, and snotty customer service from brand representatives that confer snob value. Maturation and life experience have endowed me with enough perspective to allow me to conclude that any store that forces me to squint, use a flashlight, bellow myself hoarse in order to be heard, and hold my breath to avoid aspirating toxic fumes named "Fierce" just to purchase a logo-emblazoned hoodie manufactured in a sweatshop in Vietnam is not cool. Not even a little.
