Please stop sending me your catalogs and incessant emails. I know there's a button for that somewhere, to make this request official and maybe I'll find it someday.
The thing is, I really don't need you sitting in my mail box, every 4 weeks or so, with some tantalizingly expensive sex-in-the-city-esque coat, worn by some pale twig of a female, begging to be purchased. If you knew where I live, you'd understand that there are 8.925 hours, total, in this part of Florida that would merit such a thick piece of cloth. If we were to break it down that's
Another thing you should know is that you're really overestimating how trendy I am. While I covet your coats, you must be forgetting that I'm just a mom in the suburbs, working part-time as a teacher. I can't attempt to match the fashion templates your stringy-haired models demonstrate. Satin shorts with tights, high heels, and a boyfriend blazer? Not feeling that on the neighborhood playground with my toddler. I'll cut you some slack, though, because I'm pretty sure my closet will contain some of Jenna's Picks...in a couple years. That's how I rock it.
Until I find that elusive stop-marketing-me button, I'll have to tread the line between harmless ogling and idolatrous coveting. But what do you care, J.Crew? You and Marco in the Andes, and Jenna with her picks, and Twiggy--you'll keep doing what you do. We'll keep up the pretense--that care you about my style and that I can afford yours. It's kinda fun.