“Kendall is… wearing a hideous sweater with shiny crap all over it. It looks like she made it herself, while doing drugs with Donatella Versace and Björk.”
– Jacob, TWoP
Okay, you got me. Haha. Cropped hoodies? That’s cute. Capelets? Precious. Sweaters created just for the arms and upper back? Hilarious. But now it’s winter. It’s cold. I can see my breath. I know that my state was cut in half during the Civil War, but I live in the North and it’s freezing up here and in case you haven’t heard we won, so get with the program and create clothes that actually cover our bodies.
I’m working very hard to prevent Office Ass, or as the ladies at SBC call it, Bell Butt. But someday I may fail or fall dangerously close to squish territory, so could you offer at least ONE pair of pants that isn’t uber-low-rise and ONE shirt that hits below my belly button so that I won’t have to flash my tat at everyone who walks by my office or hide under my desk when Top Secret Work Crush stops by? The pressure on my midriff is reaching Orange-Alert teen pop star status and today is Cake Day, so knock it off.
I know I gave you a CHUMPS card the other day, but seriously? I found not one, but THREE racks yesterday full of hoodies that stop just below my armpit. Why. And they were not shrunken accidentally, nor did I mistakenly wander into the children’s section. They were created INTENTIONALLY. What the hell for? Are these the new dickies? Are we wearing dickies OVER our clothes now? Oh god, you’re writing that down, aren’t you? I knew it. And I hate you.
And if you’re going to stop selling my bra, could you warn a girl? I have a crate in my Armageddon bunker specifically set aside for back-up bras, and if you were going to clear out the whole shebang, you could have at least sent me a letter. Um, perhaps you’ve never heard of the Famous Barr Bra & Panty Club, of which I am a card-carrying member? Six stamps equals a free bra, not a heart attack, and I hate you. I’m going to run around town rocking the worst case of quatro-boob you’ve ever seen and tell everyone that you’re my boyfriend. And when I got home I found my bra online so nyah nyah and eat it. Nice try.
The one thing you did succeed at was playing every single Christmas song EVER CREATED in the same building at the exact same time, remixed with a little flava from Abercrombie & Fitch. This is not something for the record books. It is just stupid and most likely will cause permanent brain damage for your employees (I will give props to Abercrombie & Fitch for their shirtless male mannequins, though, who were rocking Santa hats and serious funnels a la “Jarhead.” That was pretty hot, albeit somewhat ridiculous and creepy).
And sequins? Are ugly, especially gold sequins combined with SILVER PUFFY PAINT so could you please stop sprinkling it all over every fucking thing that you carry? I really hate winding down after a long day of shopping by picking a parade’s worth of confetti off of my clothes with thread snips. Those purses made entirely of giant sequins are the most fug-assed creations I’ve ever seen in my entire life, and I’m from a generation that welcomed jams and neon Hammerpants with arms wide open. And if I ever see anyone wearing a sequins beret again, they will get punched in the face. Don’t test me, mall. Don’t.
And while you’re at it, could you ask Victoria’s Secret why they insist on putting pictures of dogs on their underwear? Stripes: cute. Polka dots: cute. Dogs on underwear, even puppies: not cute, and I am worried about you. And going back to the low-rise pants – I don’t feel like advertising to the world that I am wearing a thong with hearts and golden retriever cameos. And also tell the Mac store that I glanced in there as I walked by, and they owe me new retinas. And also, I hate you.
Stephanie and the rest of America
P.S. I will thank you for my one happy mall memory, which is the night that Rachel had to work in the Hose Department at Famous Barr, and we called up there like 800 times, just to hear her say “Hose Department”. Haaaha. But I still hate you.