Anthropologie: heaven, or just a lot of hot air?

Photography: Stylehog.com

So: I finally made it into Anthropologie this weekend. It was Sunday, torrential rain down Regent St. There was a huddle of girls waiting under the door way. It was supposed to open at midday. It got to quarter past, and the staff were still only just arriving - nudging us quite abruptly with their sodden umbrellas. The lights were still off and the vacuuming was being done. Bear in mind this wasn't their opening weekend - the shop has been open for ten days now... but what's 15 minutes, hey, so I let all the frustration of being soaked go.

The store is pretty, that's for sure; you sort of can't help but run a finger across the old French dressers (for £10,000) and reach out to touch every quirky little thing. But did it blow me away?

Well, and I realise I might be risking the wrath of many a reader with this, my answer has to be: no.

I didn't, however, leave the shop empty handed - I bought two vintage playing cards with our initials on to frame (total: £7 - a lot for just two gift cards, but then again not a lot considering I bought them with the idea of framing-to-keep-cards-as-art in mind). But I didn't coo over the woollen smock dresses that cost £180 or the £200 cardigans covered in corsages. A soft coat with brass buttons and a frill front did catch my eye - but only in so much as I felt the need to take it off the hanger, not enough to try it on. I guess the clothes are just not to my taste - a little too whimsical, boho and (forgive me) old-fashioned for my liking and not nearly as pretty, or indeed flattering, as what I was expecting.

The New York Observer recently wrote: "Anthropologie is boring. Anthropologie is a knee-length floral print-skirt paired with embellished flats." It may sound a little harsh. But there were some truly hideous grandma knits in there, that I could only imagine Alexa Chung-types, with big glasses and brogues, wearing to be ironic. Or, as Washington Post's Hank Steuver imagines, women who "want to be Zooey Deschanel."

The homeware was certainly more charming - a polka dot green ceramic door knob to replace my bedstand drawer handle caught my eye, as did the Russian doll measuring cup, the happy bird place mats, and a gold key-shaped key holder - but not in a "must have" way. I marvelled at a golden Snow White-esque apple, but when I realised it was a candle, and a £100 one at that, the magic rubbed off.

I wouldn't go as far as some others who say they hate Anthropologie (many bloggers write of their "love hate" relationship with it) but it's just not me and while I love the Spanish style ceramic salt and pepper shaker, I also know that if you look in the right places, you'll find one more authentic that doesn't cost about £30.

Maybe the hype was too much, because I was really looking forward to it, but it wasn't as great as I thought it would be. Don't get me wrong, I did like it, I just don't necessarily love it, and I'm not sure I believe all the talk about how some people visit New York *just* to see Anthropologie.

I headed down the road and sought refuge from the rain and my Anthropologie-downfall, in Zara Home. And no, I'm not ashamed of my high street preference, no matter how "unoriginal compared to Anthropologie" it may sound. I instantly loved Zara's charcoal grey bed linen range in its warm soft wools and felts; its white towels edged with enough lace for detail, but not too much as to make it quaint; toyed with the idea of laying luxurious embroidered bolster cushions on my bed; bought a fabulous frame for those vintage playing cards I mentioned. It might not be as quirky as Anthropologie, and the website doesn't really do it justice, but like the clothes, Zara Home is more contemporary but still classic in style. I guess, I'd like to think, more my style...