Since I’m a total idiot, I decided to check the “yes” check box when Madewell asked me if I wanted “email updates” of “promotions” and “new arrivals.”
This means that everyday, Madewell sends me an email with gorgeous disheveled hipster models wearing pretty-but-not-too-pretty clothing in a perfectly styled utopia.
So it’s as if I’ve decided to torture myself daily with items that I want and cannot afford-slash-items that only look good on skeletons with messy ombre auburn hair.
I caved last week and bought some stuff. Obviously, when you’re spending copious amounts of money on things, you should make sure they are totally timeless. You know, like shockingly bright cobalt blue pants and neon pointelle socks.
Sigh. Spring better get here soon. And I better lose about 25 pounds before it gets here. And Madewell better have a sale before then.
Is my skirt bright enough for ya? Get ready for a WHOLE LOTTA NEON this spring/summer… I’ve been stockpiling neon pieces all winter like a little neon-nut-eating squirrel in neon-hibernation, just itching to bust them out all over your face.
Neon is a little too “risque” for my conservative office, but you know what? I just got my performance review last month, which means there are another 11 months before my next performance review, which means I have a solid 9 months of “crazy pushing-the-edge” outfit-creation time before I have to “buckle down and look business appropriate”.
I am MORTIFIED because I realized after I got to work today that I wore this mint green skirt LAST WEEK.
What am I? A dirty, no-wardrobe HOBO??? I need to get my shit together. I mostly just wanted to wear this sick new tuxedo blazer, and the soft tinge of pink was just screaming for a pastel green compliment. But now I am totally mortified.
Also, I forgot that I had to go to a construction site for a tour today. My “tastefully oversized and fashionable capelet coat” did not jive with my wrap-around security vest.
A couple of friends encouraged me to submit my slatty art to a few high-profile design blogs to see whether they would agree with my self-idolatry, or whether they would reject me like an old banana peel on the street.