Abercrombie & Fitch’s only response to those concerns has been derisive laughter. The nude photographs aren’t pornographic at all, the company says — they’re wholesome and beautiful. Besides, the clothing and marketing campaigns aren’t intended for anyone over 22 or under 18 — Abercrombie & Fitch is all about college students, who are hip enough to understand the A&F Quarterly’s sly sense of humor. If you don’t get the joke, then you’re just too darn old.

Megan Orndorff, a 21-year-old senior at Bridgewater College in Virginia, is not that darn old. But she didn’t get the joke, either — and when she complained to Abercrombie & Fitch, her concerns got about as much coverage as the naked models in the catalog.

Orndorff’s problems started in December 2001, when she bought an A&F shirt for her younger sister as a Christmas gift. While in the Roanoke, Va., store, she saw a 3 x 5 card advertising subscriptions to the A&F Quarterly for $12. Having seen several tasteful black-and-white photos from other Abercrombie & Fitch advertisements in her friends’ dorm rooms, Orndorff thought it might be helpful to have on hand for the photography class she’d be taking the next semester. Without a second thought, she plunked down her $12 and signed up.

By the time Orndorff received a note in her mailbox that she needed to pick up a package at the campus post office the next semester, she’d forgotten about the catalog. But when she looked inside the white postal envelope to find a shrink-wrapped magazine with the words “parental advisory” on the cover, she realized she’d gotten a lot more than she’d bargained for.

“I found out the shots I’d seen in the dorm were not from the quarterly,” Orndorff says. “I couldn’t believe they got away with this.”

Orndorff went straight to her room to complain to Abercrombie & Fitch, eventually finding the phone number in an employee handbook her roommate had kept after working in one of their stores. She asked for a refund of her $12 and an apology, explaining she had no idea she would be receiving pornography. She was told an e-mail would be sent to management noting her complaints.

“I didn’t get a refund,” Orndorff said. “I didn’t get an apology. I didn’t get anything — but I did make a commitment that I would never shop there again. And my roommate never went back to work there.”

That was good enough for Orndorff over the summer break. But after returning to Bridgewater — a private school where all 1,350 students live on campus and a good percentage of them know Orndorff as a Christian leader — she received a notice from A&F Quarterly that her subscription was on the verge of expiring. Again, Orndorff called the company, explained her situation, and requested a refund and apology. Again, she was told her complaint would be submitted by e-mail. When she asked to speak to a supervisor, she was told none was available.

The situation reached its nadir a month later, when Orndorff got another notice in her mailbox to pick up a package. She thought it might be something from her parents.

Instead, the post office worker “just gave me a really disapproving look,” Orndorff said. “She slapped this Abercrombie Christmas quarterly on the counter. No packaging, no plastic — just a naked girl hanging over a guy.

“After all those discussions and never receiving anything, they put me back on their mailing list? And no plastic wrap?”

Orndorff was beyond horrified. She was humiliated.

“I did not order this!” she spluttered to the postal worker. Snatching the catalogue, she ran back to her dorm room.

Once there, she punched up the Abercrombie & Fitch phone number. One of her three roommates, asleep in an adjacent room, was wakened by her yelling.

“I told the person on the phone that I knew she just worked for minimum wage, but she needed to hear me out,” Orndorff said. “I told her my whole story. She was very taken aback. I said I needed an answer from the company ASAP because I’d been humiliated by their publication. The person on the phone apologized and said I’d be receiving a refund.”

Three weeks later, Orndorff received her first and only official response from Abercrombie & Fitch.

There was no refund, and no apology. Instead, Orndorff got a three-sentence-long form letter saying the company was sorry she had been forced to return her product to the store. Enclosed was a gift card with a note expressing Abercrombie & Fitch’s hopes to see her back in one of its outlets soon.

It’s one thing for a company to ignore complaints about its marketing strategies from people who don’t buy its products — it’s condescending, self-righteous and socially irresponsible, mind you, but somewhat understandable. It’s quite another to so flagrantly ignore the concerns expressed by a member of the very age group the company is trying to reach — and off whose literal collective back it profits.

All Orndorff wanted was a $12 refund — less than half the price of one T-shirt from a company that, despite falling sales and stock prices, still managed to rake in $827 million last year — and a little conscientious customer service. All she wanted was for Abercrombie & Fitch to listen to her long enough to understand her thoughts about its marketing strategies and take her off its mailing list.

Unfortunately, Abercrombie & Fitch long ago discarded the principle of listening to criticism. Orndorff, whose studies have left her little time for television the last four years, was unaware of the things Abercrombie & Fitch has come to advocate.

She hadn’t heard that former Washington Redskins coach Joe Gibbs has made it a personal mission to point out to the millions of people on his annual speaking circuit the sexually graphic images Abercrombie & Fitch uses to sell its clothes to college students like her. Gibbs called them “pornographic” and “an obvious promotion of gratuitous sexual behavior and promiscuity.” Abercrombie & Fitch spokesman Hampton Carney called them “beautiful and sexy” and “extremely intelligent.”

She didn’t know that last year, abercrombie, the company’s division for 7- to 14-year-old children, started selling thong underwear for girls with the words “eye candy” and “wink, wink” emblazoned near the crotch. Parents called it disgusting and appealing only to pedophiles. Carney called it “cute and fun and sweet,” the “modern-day version of Underoos.”

She didn’t know that prior to that, Abercrombie & Fitch had sold T-shirts with ethnic slurs on them — some depicting slant-eyed coolies with the words “Wong Brothers Laundry Service — Two Wongs Can Make it White.” Asians called it racist. Carney called it funny and said the shirts were something “we personally thought Asians would love.” But for once, the company bowed to pressure and pulled the shirts from its stores nationwide.

She knows about these things now — and has dedicated herself to making sure that every other college student from whom Abercrombie & Fitch makes its millions knows about them, too.

“They stereotype the typical college student — that all we’re about is drinking and partying and sex every night with a different person,” Orndorff said. “I know there are people like that, but it’s one sector of our society. It’s amazing how many students I know who don’t hold at all to those ideas. College students today are more diverse than at any time in our history.

“How narrow-minded can you be?”