I Checked Out the Row’s Sample Sale — and Met Line Sitters Paid to Wait

Gigi Principe had been waiting in line for more than nine hours by the time I talked to her. She had the No. 1 spot at what might be New York City’s hardest door this week: The Row’s sample sale.

But Principe didn’t plan to shop the Mary-Kate and Ashley Olsen brand for herself — she said it’s way too expensive, even with the sale’s 75% markdown. She is one of many hired, patient line-sitters.

With its clean-cut, label-free $550 white cotton tees, $2,700 scarves, and $6,000 bags, The Row epitomizes the “quiet luxury” trend that’s dominated the high-end fashion industry for years.

On Thursday morning, I stepped into the black hole of The Row’s cult following — in other words, into the sample sale line. Some sipped coffee or unwrapped bagels; others read in folding chairs; one woman sat straight on the sidewalk, typing on her computer.

The first day of the public sale began at 10 a.m. on Wednesday, and Principe, 26, said she had been in line since 7 p.m. the night before. As an assistant at the line-sitting company Same Ole Line Dudes, she’s been paid to wait for everything from buzzy restaurants to legal trials to Berkshire Hathaway’s annual shareholder meeting.

Robert Samuel, 50, started Same Ole Line Dudes in 2012 and described The Row’s event as “the Super Bowl of all sample sales.” He was sold out with 61 bookings on Wednesday and had 35 on Thursday. Customers pay sitters $25 an hour plus an extra $15 if they want someone in line before 7 a.m., as well as fees for inclement weather or holidays.

By my calculations, the person who hired Same Ole Line Dudes to show up at 7 p.m. on Tuesday night would have paid $365 before taking their spot in line around 9 a.m. to enter the sale.

Principe said the sitters look out for each other, coordinating bathroom breaks and food runs. When signs suddenly popped up on Wednesday night banning tents and chairs in line, the earliest waiters collectively decided to simply set up on the other side of the sidewalk and shift to the correct area closer to opening.

The Row hopefuls don’t just pay for line babysitters. One personal shopper told me she had gone for five people on Wednesday and five on Thursday, including a client from Australia. She showed me a receipt for $1,619 for three pairs of shoes and a coat, which would have cost almost $6,500 retail. Those Australian clients pay for her concierge service fee, shipping costs, and tariffs, which haven’t seemed to hurt the international appetite for The Row’s simple silhouettes and neutral tones.

“They have a cult following. People really want quiet luxury,” she said. “They love The Row because it’s really, really well-made, but there are no logos. But people in the know know what it is.”

Quiet luxury is alive and well

The luxury sector is facing a “significant slowdown” this year, according to McKinsey’s State of Luxury report, as is the broader fashion industry. Clients are increasingly interested in luxury experiences over items, the report found. Yet on Manhattan’s 18th Street, I saw that hunger for clothing straight out of the scenes of “Succession” is still very alive, especially as wealthy consumers help power the economy.

Three women in their early 30s who hired one of Samuel’s employees — “I feel like everyone knows a line guy,” they told me — said they valued the longevity of the items. Two of them said they’d given themselves a shopping budget of $5,000, and one of them pulled out their phone to start filming for a TikTok she said she’d likely never make.

Whether or not she gets around to editing her post, social media is filled with videos of The Row hauls worth tens of thousands of dollars, and details of what it’s like inside the sale (phones are taped, bags are somewhat rare, dressing rooms are communal).

The woman who hired a line-sitter for 7 p.m. on Tuesday night was back on Thursday, but she had paid someone to wait starting at 4 a.m. for the second day. She asked for anonymity because she’d taken the day off work for the event. Her voice got quieter when I asked how much her three bags and two coats from the first day cost, a sheepish smile creeping up as she politely declined to share.

“A lot,” the 37-year-old said, adding they were completely worth the splurge.

Betul Thena, 38, got in line at 9:20 a.m. and said she became “an avid follower of the brand” after attending The Row’s sample sale four years ago. Eva Dayton, who works in secondhand luxury fashion, arrived at 7:45 a.m. but didn’t mind what she assumed would be around a three-hour wait.

I left the sale before the doors officially opened at 9 a.m., and as the person who’d hired Principe was dropping by to snag their coveted spot at the very front.

“The audience is divided into ‘These people are crazy’ and ‘What a crazy deal,'” the woman who was back for a second day told me. “So you just pick your line and you stick to it.”