I have a love/hate relationship with the mall. Perhaps you can relate. I hate how overpriced everything is. I hate the unidentifiable noxious scent wafting from Abercrombie and Finch. I hate the long lines, and the sound of toddlers screaming, and the fact that the bathrooms are never, ever clean. But I love the ease of having some of my favorite stores neatly contained under one roof. I love cooing at the adorably overdressed babies catching story time at Barnes and Noble. I love grabbing coffee at Starbucks, and the whimsical windows at Anthropologie, and those department store make-up ladies who look like they had their cosmetics applied by transvestites. In the dark.
Mostly, though, I love the people watching. That's the real reason I go to the mall. Today I visited Northpark Center in Dallas, which displays the most colorful species of shoppers in North America. Every corner revealed some new, wondrous cluster. There were the ladies who lunch, clad in Tory Burch and Chloe, giving each other the up and down as they sipped their iced green tea. There were the emaciated urban hipsters, resplendent in skinny jeans, stalking the newest plastic-rimmed sunglasses in Urban Outfitters. You also had your Botoxed-injected mall walkers, your rosy-cheeked Lululemon soccer moms, your exquisitely tailored gay men in Tom Ford suits, and your groups of giggling pre-teens training to master the art of simultaneous texting, flirting, shopping and walking.
I could spend hours at Northpark just observing the shoppers. Today, though, I was on a quest to peruse jewelry at Forever 21. As I made my way towards a glistening display of shiny shiny blindingly shiny necklaces, I came across this:
It was as if I tumbled into a Very Special Episode of 90210. You know, the one where Kelly develops an eating disorder and Brandon gets drunk and arrested and David has a rap career and Brenda pretends to be French and Steve bribes a janitor to break into school and change his math grade and Donna almost has sex but she's going to remain a virgin until she gets married, God damm it, and it's all VERY VERY SERIOUS. It was *that* bad.
I just don't think I can get behind the 90's floral dress revival. I was there the first time, and believe me, it wasn't good. I prefer to leave Kelly and Donna and Brenda and their poly-blend dresses in the past, mostly because I haven't a clue how to wear these clothes off without looking like a sad middle-aged woman playing dress-up. But that's just me. If you can give some tips on successfully pulling of this look, I'm all ears. I could use the help.
Today I went with a recently acquired thrifted faux-fur vest and skinny cargoes. Brenda and Kelly might scowl with disapproval, but at least I was comfortable.
|Thrifted I Heart Ronson faux-fur vest; Old Navy shirt; Michael Stars long-sleeved tee; Gap Outlet cargos; thrifted booties; Forever 21 belt; Plato's Closet leather bracelet|
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