Snap out of it!

Yes, it's been many moons since I had the desire to do more than dabble with this blog.  I have much too much fun reading everyone else's blogs.  

It took this monstrosity to light a fire under my fashion-obsessed heinie.  Anthropologie, DEAR GOD, in the name of all that is holy and hip, what is this?!?

Every morning, it is my ritual to wake with to the birds chirping, slink down my creaky 100 year old stairs, and surf by the eerie glow of my Power Mac while my family lies prostrate upstairs, blissfully unaware of my fashion compulsion.  

It is my joy in life to peruse the adorable new J Crew and Anthro offerings each morning, and I particularly love clicking on the new arrivals section at Anthro.  When the page number goes up, I get excited.  I know that scrolling down will be like opening up potential new gifts.  

Imagine my shock and horror when this appeared!  I literally gasped and recoiled.  This sorry sack of a sweater, aptly named the "Ha'penny Cardigan" nearly caused an asthma attack.  At first, I thought I was on the BBC historical costumes display page and that this was a left over piece from a documentary on Jack the Ripper. "Ladies and Gentlemen, this is the actual cloak worn by Prostitute Number 3 as she wandered the dark and vermin-filled streets of 19th century Whitechapel."

Then my eyes caught the name, and I groaned at the sick irony.  An item like this might have been worn by the little old lady who dropped a coin in a child's cup in the time of David Copperfield.  When you think of Anthropologie, do you think of begging children, crusts of bread, and moth-eaten sacks worn as clothing?

Hell, no!

Oh, Anthro... Why have you forsaken me? 

There has to be a first...

OK, I've put this off long enough. The stinkin' thing isn't going to write itself. Chloe can do it, Slastena can do it, even Britney Spears can do it. Here we go.

J. Crew or Anthropologie? J. Crew or Anthropologie? When you have a spare $90-150 to blow, where would you be most likely to drop it? I live three miles away from both, but I end up purchasing most of my J. Crew stuff online. The Mpls. metro stores always seem woefully stocked, and I love to play the "get up before my husband and surf the final sale section hoping something amazingly cool is on there for amazingly cheap and order it before he hauls his bones out of bed" game.

I can recite/type my credit card number in less than three seconds, secret id code included, thank you very much.

However, how many half-inch wide patent leather belts does one human need? Dark peony? Really? But you know, if that stinkin' dark peacock popped back tomorrow, I couldn't resist it. Could you?

When I feel a little more exotic, it's off to Anthro. I love to take tons of time, perusing every little nook and cranny, handing off loads of clothes to try, knowing I will probably only walk out with one or two things. Sometimes I go with my sister, but this can cause problems. I love her, but I am usually considered her ego booster, her personal attendent, her gentle critic. It becomes about facilitating her shopping happiness, not my own. Usually, I'm better solo. I don't get too emotionally invested in my clothes until AFTER they are officially mine. If it looks like crap, I move on to the next. I don't take it personally.

These are my go-to stores. Literally. Do any of you have stores that feed your fashion souls?