another tree-killing, time-wasting diversion in my mailbox

Dear J.Crew,

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 $112 $147 an hour (of course I included the boots and clutch). The second thing you should know is that I really cannot afford to rent a coat, albeit every Jackie-O-fanatasy-fulfilled, for $147 an hour. I don't walk the city streets to hop on the Metro, and I certainly don't hang out with Marco and his alpaca in the Andes (where your last shoot took place). So, of those 8.925 cold hours in Tampa, I'm indoors for most of them.

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.