“It exploded,” Mr. Williams said. “Within two weeks, we had over 6 million page views.” With the help of a San Francisco publisher, Weldon Owen, they rapidly increased distribution from 2,000 copies (at $18 an issue, or $60 for an annual subscription) at the end of 2012 to 70,000 by the end of 2013. Besides subscriptions, they sell through Barnes & Noble, Anthropologie and Amazon.com (also Steven Alan, the clothing chain in New York).

“We really love their aesthetic,” said Abigail Jacobs, vice president for brand marketing at West Elm, which carries Kinfolk, helped furnish its Portland offices, and featured on its website a video of a dinner that the Kinfolk staff styled. “It’s simple, pared-back and rustic, and meals are always depicted family style. They’re about slowing down and bringing together friends and family, without formality.”

While the magazine proceeds from the premise that every minute in the life of its readers is an overcrowded, ill-designed digital ordeal, its website now gets 850,000 unique views monthly, Mr. Williams said.

Still, there are no ads. “The numbers work for us,” he said. “We’ve got 12 people in the office, making competitive salaries. We looked into setting up shop in New York or San Francisco, but it was really cheap and easy for us to open in Portland.” They might eventually move to one of those bigger cities, he conceded, and possibly open a second office in London or Copenhagen, home to many contributors.

Kinfolk is also expanding into apparel and homeware, under a brand called Ouur. Why that spelling? “Why spell Anthropologie with an ‘ie’?” Mr. Williams responded. “It’s just different.” He said that the designs, which he’s been creating with Japanese partners, will be simple and clean, featuring lots of linen, but will have “a more mature, elegant look” than that of the young folks depicted in Kinfolk.