I knew something had changed before I could explain what it was.
It wasn't immediately obvious. The shelves were still full. The lighting was soft. There was still colour on the walls. But something felt off.
For years, Anthropologie was my biggest source of inspiration. The layered displays. The handmade details. Every detail had been considered. It’s where this journey all began - 17 years ago! I'd happily lose an hour (at least!) wandering through the store. Sometimes two. Not because I needed anything, but because I just didn’t want to leave.
There was always something unexpected - details that served no commercial purpose other than to create a memorable experience.
This time, it felt different.
Streamlined. Transactional. Less emotive. The focus was on speed and efficiency. The creative storytelling had been stripped. The invitation to linger had disappeared.
The displays were flat and less imaginative. The handmade moments were nowhere to be seen. Everything seemed designed to help you find what you came for as quickly as possible.
Efficient.
And that's when I realised something.
Efficiency isn't always memorable.
Stores lose their magic when they forget why they exist.
We've become obsessed with removing friction from retail. Scan here. Click there. Self-checkout. Faster delivery. Less waiting.
They're all good things.
But somewhere along the way, many stores stopped asking a much more important question.
Why should someone leave their house to visit us?
Because if the experience inside the store is no different to scrolling a website, convenience will win every time.
Physical retail was never supposed to compete on convenience.
It should compete on feeling.
On surprise.
On discovery.
On the conversations you didn't expect to have.
On the object you never knew you were looking for.
On the way a space makes you slow down rather than speed up.
I left Anthropologie that day feeling unexpectedly miserable. It felt as if they’d completely abandoned the very essence of what they were about and what they stood for - creating immersive experiences - which is what I loved so much.
I know brands evolve.
They have to.
But this felt different.
It felt like somewhere along the way, they'd stopped believing that the experience was as important as the product.
Not because the products themselves weren't beautiful. But because one of my favourite examples of experiential retail had become... forgettable.
It reminded me that the future of stores won't be decided by who has the fastest checkout.
It will belong to those who create somewhere people genuinely want to spend time.
Because people rarely remember the transaction.
They remember how a place made them feel.
As Few and Far grows, I don't want us to become more efficient at the expense of becoming more memorable.
I want us to be the kind of place people wander through without looking at the time.
Somewhere that sparks conversation.
Somewhere that feels generous with its ideas.
Somewhere that reminds people why physical retail still matters.
If you have a moment, I'd love to know…
1. What makes a store memorable enough that you want to return, even if you don't need to buy anything?
2. Is there a store, hotel, café or place you've visited that has had a positive impact on you? What made it so memorable?
3. As Few & Far continues to evolve, what's one thing you hope we never lose?
I'd genuinely love to hear your thoughts. I read every reply myself, and as we think about the next chapter of Few and Far, your perspective matters more than you probably realise. I don't have all the answers, but I do know one thing. I want Few and Far to be a place people leave feeling better than when they arrived.
Thank you for coming along for the journey.
