An Open Letter to the J.Crew Dressing Rooms, Also, Amy's Got A Brand New Bag
September 14, 2004
UPDATE TANTRUM THING: FUCKING NOTIFY HAS NOT NOTIFIED ANYONE. YOU WILL BE NOTIFIED IN ITS OWN DAMN SWEET TIME. WAH.
First Up: The Bitchening
Dear J.Crew Dressing Rooms,
Why do you make me look so damn bad? All the time? Why do I let you do this to me? You are not worth this pain. Even though you have that one dress that I really want right now? I’m thinking of going elsewhere for my preppy-clothes needs. Somewhere that cares. Somewhere with mirrors that elongate and maybe tell you how amazing your ass looks in those jeans.
I don’t think I’m asking for too much here.
And seriously, isn’t The Gap like, totally kicking your ass right now? THE GAP? I mean, they’ve got Sarah Jessica Parker and Lenny Kravitz in their commercials. And you find yourself kind of liking them in spite of yourself. I will admit, I went out and bought a little wine-colored corduroy blazer this weekend which is quite whimsical and jaunty.
(Granted, I did not buy it at The Gap, mostly because I was in Georgetown and The Gap is like, UP HILL and I was wearing pinchie shoes.) And I am seriously contemplating the purchase of a cute little hat.
But you? J.Crew? No SJP. No Lenny. You’re still doing the whole bland-blonde-jock-boys-cavorting-on-the-beach-in-$100-pants thing in your catalogs. Yawn. And also itchy sand.
So face it. You’re boring. One can only buy so many pairs of khakis, you know?
So once you get people in the door, you need to treat them right. Stop making them wander around helplessly looking for a 16-year-old wielding a dressing-room key like it’s the pinnacle of retail power. And then, do something about the lights.
Oh my God, THE LIGHTS.
The lights in your dressing rooms make a late-night emergency room look dim and romantic. They are BRIGHT. They are BLINDING.
Do you KNOW the effect these lights have on the white skin of the average white person’s ass?
Look, I am skinny. My ass is a goddamn size four. (And I know that you sell size twos and zeros and that a size four is probably more like a size six from somewhere else where a size six is really a size eight. Still. Size four.)
But in your dressing rooms? It’s horrid. There’s mottled skin and cellulite and this weird blue tinge to my thighs. So congratulations, J.Crew Dressing Rooms, you’ve managed to create the one environment where the image of a pretty girl stripping becomes as sexual as some health class movie about the skin diseases of your average heroin user.
I hate you. You made me all sad and paranoid and I could BARELY enjoy my dinner afterwards and I ALMOST could not bring myself to order dessert.
Sincerely, which is not Love,
P.S. Those white pants I tried on were totally ugly anyway. Pfft.
Next Up: The Braggening
Speaking of shopping, which I obviously did a lot of this weekend, I got a new purse. It is the most beautiful bag in the world and is waaaay cuter than that monkey-like newborn they’ve got next door.
Jason got it for me, because he is so unbelievably amazing and understands that, for me anyway, there is nothing better than a pretty new purse that cost a lot of money to mask the fact that I never have more than $4 dollars in my wallet.
In fact, it cost so much money I am not posting any of the 43 pictures I took of it, because someone would figure out where it came from and therefore figure out how much it cost and you all would TOTALLY HATE ME and tell me sad stories of starving children and puppies and make me feel bad.
And I refuse to feel bad, because I am a terrible and materialistic bitch like that.
But oh! If you could only SEE this purse, you might understand, at least if you have the slightest bit of terrible and materialistic bitch in you as well. InStyle magazine declared it a “Must-Have Bag for Fall!” I’ve never had a Fall must-have!
Honestly, it’s amazing I’m still alive.
My darling Type A was lucky enough to be sent a link to The Purse, even though I hesitated.
To: Type A
Go ahead and hate me now. I no longer need friends now that I own this bag.
From: Type A
bitch minus friend.
fortunately for you, that bag is totally worth more than my friendship.
(She is so smart. Do you guys appreciate how smart she is? I don’t think you do. Go appreciate her smartness now, please, because this entry? Has completely imploded over here.)
And Lastly: The Stupidening
Also speaking of the dinner that was very nearly ruined by the bitch dressing rooms, I was encouraged by a very lovely fortune I received in my cookie:
Good news will becoming your way it will be here any day!
It’s about damn time, I think.
Notified Readers Are This Season's Must-Have.