Thursday, August 09, 2007

Please Mister Postman

From the stacks of catalogs that comprise the bulk of my everyday mail, my name has apparently been sold to some kind of mailing list. And from the types of catalogs I receive, that list is targeted towards women who would like to dress like they're a supporting character in a Molly Ringwald movie. Or, quite possibly, to Molly Ringwald herself.

I'm not totally complaining about the contents of my mailbox. I'd just be opening the little door to rearrange the dust mites if dELiA*s didn't send me a monthly missive attempting to sell me a hot pink Smiths t-shirt, a product that makes me unspeakably sad and disappointed. Everyone knows that the only acceptable color for a Smiths shirt is black, like the dark angels in your soul. And, Ms. or Miss or potentially Mr. dELiA*, the design should never be pre-distressed. The words "Meat is Murder" should have to be eroded by the acidity of your own tears. Or from constantly being shoved to the ground by Nickelback fans.

Anyway, next I looked at the Urban Outfitters catalog and not only do they employ several models that have the downcast expressions of someone who has either lost a loved one or has recently watched The Land Before Time but they also are offering these tapered leg leopard print jeans that I can't imagine anyone would purchase unless they are:

1) Currently living in 1984.
2) Have an audition for a Warrant video (perhaps this should be option 1a)
3) Are a twentysomething Asian girl.

Any Asian woman between the ages of 15 and 42 could wear these pants, combining them with a turtleneck, a feather boa, sixteen wristwatches and a pirate's hat and would look not only appropriate somehow, but also completely adorable. This ability is one of the special skills genetically bestowed only on Asians. That and the ability to be violin virtuosos without ever having someone refer to it as a "fiddle" or asking them to play a Charlie Daniels song.

I also receive a catalog called Swell that seems to exist only to allow bored teenagers in Pennsylvania to dress exactly like they think bored teenagers in California would dress. It's essentially Hollister, but sized for real humans. The last time I attempted to shop at Hollister (which has been more recently than I'd like to admit), I walked out of the store after realizing that my undersized body (I'm not underweight, mind you...I just have a skeletal structure that, with a bit of rearranging, would allow me to be a very nice bird) is considered to be an XL in their world. Apparently the girls who shop at Hollister can also purchase clothing at Build-A-Bear.

These three catalogs were just today's delivery. I can't wait to see what comes tomorrow. I hope like hell it's my leopard pants.


Nate said...

I know you have this t-shirt in your closet, somewhere. I do.

Nate said...

okay, and Swell? What the eff? Where are they going with those surfboards? To a barn-raising?