Zulily has defied the conventional wisdom—marketing to moms, sticking with flash sales, evading Amazon. Can it defy the doubting investors who think it can't last?
On a foggy January morning at Zulily headquarters in Seattle, a menacing little girl wearing a tiara is sitting in a little pink wagon in one of the hallways. She's throwing a tantrum, brandishing her sippy cup like a cudgel. Our eyes lock on my way back to the waiting area from the restroom, and suddenly I'm sucked into an impromptu staring contest, which, considering the home-field advantage of the competition, I feel I'm about to lose. I avert my eyes to the paper lanterns that drip from the lofted ceilings and the carnival-sized stuffed animals, rocking horses, and playhouses that line the walls. It's like the world's nicest Crate & Barrel swallowed a pediatrician's office.
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