As a college sophomore with an internet connection during the Obama era, I was instantly intrigued by the promise of the new direct-to-consumer clothing brand Everlane. I don’t remember how or when I found out about the fashion startup exactly; I just remember getting the emails. Launched around 2011 with venture capital funding, Everlane styled itself in a sort-of minimalist, pro-consumer ethos. The idea was simple: sell beautiful clothing made really well — so-called “modern basics” — at reasonable prices. The company made it all the more enticing by amping up the exclusivity factor; like the early days of Gmail, you needed an invitation to shop.
By forgoing brick-and-mortar stores, Everlane, co-founded by Michael Preysman, advertised itself as cutting out the middleman and allowing the consumer to reap the benefits. Initially, Everlane promised its wares — it started with boxy T-shirts — would always be priced at less than $100.
The company embodied a decidedly millennial spirit: the idea that change was not only possible, but possible via simply buying better things. I spent hours pouring over the brand’s email marketing and clothing collections. I got off the waitlist in the fall of 2011 (“You’re one of the first in the door!”, the email read), but for months, I just browsed. Even at their heavily discounted prices, I wondered if $25 was too much to pay for a pocket tee, when Urban Outfitters was just down the street — or if the quality of a $15 box-cut tee would hold up, especially if I couldn’t see or touch it before buying. In the early days, by Preysman’s own assessment, Everlane was operating almost as more of a branding exercise. “I have seen, candidly with Everlane, we’ve had periods where we had okay product when we launched, and the brand carried all the weight,” he told a business podcast in 2024. “Then we had great products, and we had really high engagement.”
