A couple ‘o posts ago, I told you that we needed to discuss my misadventures in Anthropologie last weekend. As you may remember, I was on kind of an urban/hip high after booking some time at Voodoo and then Saturday Market in downtown Portland. The New-NonWalmartish-Me lasted roughly two hours (and it was a great ride, my three faithfuls) until I left the domain of the riverfront Struggling Artist and walked a few blocks uptown into that of The Diabolically Rich Corporations. All I can tell you is that when I stepped into Athropologie, three disturbing things happened:
1. I was instantly aware of how out of style I was. In sum: Old Navy T-shirt, Old Navy hoodie, Buckle jeans–which were actually a splurge for me, but suddenly seemed cheap and tweeny next to the ninety-dollar T-shirts I was admiring.
2. I was instantly aware of how broke I was. (See above pp. re: Buckle jeans.) Read more