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What about the Row makes its take on a simple sweater that much better than a version by, say, the Gap?
The Row, a luxury label founded in 2006 by Mary-Kate Olsen and Ashley Olsen, has become widely recognized — revered, even, by certain fashion writers — for its interpretations of wardrobe staples sold at big-box chains and high-end department stores alike.
It has also become known for the prices it charges for such items: $1,420 for a turtleneck, $990 for jeans, $1,490 for a pair of sneakers, $990 for silk-and-acetate hotel-style slippers. Those prices, along with the clothing’s unadorned nature, placed the Row among the brands emblematic of the trend known as quiet luxury, a form of cosplay associated with “old money” dress codes.
Occasionally, the Row will offer deep discounts on its products at sample sales, like one held this week at the Metropolitan Pavilion in Manhattan. Some people waited in line for as long as 15 hours to enter on Wednesday, the day the sale opened to the masses (an invitation-only preview was held on Tuesday). Others, like Samantha Braucht, a 39-year-old stay-at-home mother and content creator in New York City, paid line sitters hundreds of dollars to hold them a place in line.
The Row is for a “very New York fashion girl,” Ms. Braucht said. “It’s honestly overpriced for what it is, but it’s very good quality.”
“People come to New York with a dream and they have to keep up with the Joneses,” Ms. Braucht continued. “I think there is a feeling that you need to shop here, even if you shouldn’t.”
Defne Aydinol, 23, said the Row’s pared-down clothes made in Italy and Japan — outwardly indistinguishable as they may be from basics by other brands — telegraph as “very classy.”
“Nowadays in fashion everything is fast paced, fast fashion,” said Ms. Aydinol, who works in influencer marketing in New York City. “I have so much stuff from Uniqlo, too, but this brand lasts a long time in a way. The quality and tailoring really makes a difference.”
Describing the Row’s appeal, she gave a word used often by the dozen people interviewed while they were waiting in line outside the sale: timeless.
When the sale opened to the public, only small groups were granted entry at a time, and people were prohibited from taking photos inside. (The Row declined entry to The New York Times.) As people emerged with sweaters, poplin dresses, bucket bags and pointy kitten-heel boots — which were marked down by about 75 percent — many showed receipts totaling $1,000 or more.
Rachel Auld, a 29-year-old accountant in New York City, walked out of the sale after buying a cream-colored tie-waist puffer coat that resembled a bathrobe. She paid $1,225.50 for the coat, which was marked down from $4,900.
“It was the last one left,” Ms. Auld said. “It was adrenaline for sure.”
Her purchases totaled about $4,200; her friend Helen Corrigan, who bought items including a white quilted silk coat for $2,475 (marked down from $9,000), spent a similar amount.
Among the reasons Ms. Auld likes the Row are its founders. “I’m an identical twin, I idolized everything about the Olsen twins growing up,” she said of the child actresses turned moguls.
She also didn’t mind that the brand’s prices and policies like only permitting small groups to enter the sale at a time may make it seem inaccessible. “I like it a little bit,” Ms. Auld said.
The Row, which started as a line of leggings and T-shirts, has further cultivated an air of exclusivity by barring guests at its fashion shows from posting about the events on social media and by generally avoiding traditional marketing campaigns. The brand’s Instagram account features few clothes; instead, there are mostly photos of works by modern artists like Man Ray, Marc Chagall and Alexander Calder.
“It has this intellectual aura, maybe a little bit of superiority by telling you this is made from the best materials, presented in the most intense store experience,” said Francesca Granata, an associate professor of fashion studies at the Parsons School of Design. “There is almost a religious quality to it.”
She described the Row’s appeal as paradoxical. “The idea is that consuming expensive, well-made goods means you are not a victim to fashion trends and that you are above overconsumption patterns,” Ms. Granata said. “But of course you are still engaging in a form of consumption. It plays on the way people want to be perceived class-wise.”
As resistant to overexposure as the Row may be, events like the sample sale and an uptick of social media posts about people finding look-alikes of its popular Margaux bag (which starts around $4,000) at T.J. Maxx have broadened its reach. Celebrity fans photographed wearing the Row by paparazzi have also pushed it into the mainstream.
“All of a sudden, Kendall Jenner, Kylie, Hailey Bieber — all of them — started wearing the Row, and it became popular,” said Noa Ovnat, 33, who lives in New York City and has acted in short films. To her, that is how the brand “started to succeed,” she added. “TikTok and Instagram ruined our life, but everyone does whatever influencers are telling you to do.”
Ms. Ovnat left the sample sale after spending almost $2,000 — “not a lot” for the Row, she said.
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