You know I love you. I do. I tenderly turn the pages of your monthly catalog and think (sometimes) that it really is a piece of weird, retail art. Your accessories have me wrapped around their little, beady fingers. But we have to talk about something.
Your clothing is killing me slowly. Why are all the dresses that I love so beautiful on paper, but tragic in real life? WHY?! I'm petite and curvy, not a hunchback or an amazon. Every time I try to rock one of your gorgeous dresses, I am one wrinkly trenchcoat away from being that really sad, old woman who wanders around Michigan Avenue in every layer she owns, with a spackled layer of blusher on her cheeks?! WHY?!
Please turn down the granny. Puh-lease?
Regards,
Jamie
photo credit: Breakfast at Anthropologie Blog
Your clothing is killing me slowly. Why are all the dresses that I love so beautiful on paper, but tragic in real life? WHY?! I'm petite and curvy, not a hunchback or an amazon. Every time I try to rock one of your gorgeous dresses, I am one wrinkly trenchcoat away from being that really sad, old woman who wanders around Michigan Avenue in every layer she owns, with a spackled layer of blusher on her cheeks?! WHY?!
Please turn down the granny. Puh-lease?
Regards,
Jamie
photo credit: Breakfast at Anthropologie Blog
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