This afternoon, as I lay in bed wondering what to do with myself, Gus entered the room, sat next to me, and told me of his plans to go to the mall so he could check out a sale at Foot Locker.
Did he wake up on the east side of the bed this morning? The MALL?
Gus and I hate the mall. We also hate everyone in it. And it’s Sunday. That’s the worst mall-day ever. Stupid families bring their stupid kids to look at stupid stuff so they can all impress their stupid friends and keep up with the stupid Joneses.
But I needed (and still need) some clothes. When you never go to the mall, and have a general distaste for shopping, you end up with a lot of clothes that are either old or free. My wardrobe is in constant need of updating and has been that way for awhile. I have no style at all. Some people assume I’m “goth” because I wear black all the time, but I really do that because I can’t match my clothes.
Normally, I don’t care about what people assume, but sometimes a girl wants to look presentable. In fact, sometimes a girl wants to look like she knew what she was doing when she picked out an outfit. But alas, any attempts I make to understand fashion and buy accordingly are futile.
Every time I go shopping, especially somewhere like the mall, I see garment after garmet, and it’s always ugly, unnecessary, or worst of all, really cute but something I can’t pull off. I’m overly afraid of wearing something trendy and looking like a total moron walking around in it because I don’t have the proper clothes and accessories to go with it. The fear doesn’t come so much from what other people will think, but more that I spent time, money, and effort just to wear an item that makes me look silly.
I think I need a “fashion tutor” of sorts. None of my friends are real “fashion people.” Fashion people don’t like having friends like me because I don’t care about how I look. Fashion people not only care about how they look, they care about how everyone around them looks too.
Whenever I’m downtown, I always see groups of them. They all have designer jeans, which I can’t wear because my ass is too big. If I wore these jeans, my asscrack would show when I sat down. That obviously doesn’t stop some people, but my asscrack is for private viewing only. These girls also wear pretty suede boots and large funky earrings. Usually a few will wear some kind of oddly cut shirt that I would need a set of instructions to wear properly.
So, having a fashion tutor would be really cool. There doesn’t seem to be way to just sit down and teach myself how to dress well the way you can sit down and learn a language or a particular field of study. You either have a knack for it or you don’t.
However, I’m afraid that knowing a lot about things like fashion could be a clue about someone’s personality and values. Of course, every fashionista is not going to be a snob. Our fashion editor at Feedback was one of the nicest people there, in fact. But I think that generally speaking, people who put a lot of time into fashion may be lacking in some key areas. Obviously, I don’t have to be friends with this made-up fashion tutor, but I’d really hate to be three weeks into the wardrobe makeover and find out she was fucking my boyfriend or something.
Anyway, I went to the mall today. This time, the items there were bothering me more than the people I had to dodge. I used to love Express, but I’m getting ready to write that place off for good. Their clothes are reaching a level of suck higher than I’ve ever seen. Their little marketing concept is “I wish…” So one of the displays has sayings like “I wish I was a rockstar” and “I wish I had a new wardrobe” and “I wish my boyfriend were cuter” and “I wish my boyfriend had more money.”
Make your own goddamn money, triflin’ whore.
Gus and I got a couple of Frulatis and walked around for awhile. After he didn’t find any new shoes for himself, I was afraid we’d finish our trip to hell on earth with nothing to show for it. Not that Gus needs new shoes. We have a whole room in our house dedicated to his sneaker collection.
But our trip was well worth it. We bought living room furniture. I’m so happy about this I want to shout it from the rooftops and go dancing in the streets. We’ve been looking for new couches since the dawn of time. The ones we have now are cheap, ugly and uncomfortable. We’re giving one of them away for free and praying to God almighty that someone comes and hauls it away.
Our new couch is gray and soft. Instead of getting two couches like we planned, we got a giant red leather recliner that we can sit in together. It seemed like a brilliant step in furniture innovation to us, but I guess it wasn’t to the rest of the world because it was one of a few items in the store that was on sale for half the price.
I am overjoyed about this. Now all we need is a bedroom set before our new mattress comes next week and we’ll be all set.
I still hate the mall though.
Bonus points to whoever knows where this post’s title came from. Also, I’m watching Robot Chicken right now and their “Zombie Idol” sketch is hilarious. It’s good to know that Ryan Seacrest knows he’s a douche.