Lileo. I like to pop into this store just for fun. And it’s plenty of fun until I take a look at the prices. Oh, I know full well that the items are expensive but that doesn’t stop me from fingering the fashions lovingly and turning over the price tags, only to be reminded, yet again, that I should have considered a more lucrative career path. Happiness be damned, I need raw Japanese denim covering my ass. But alas, I must settle for the cooked kind.
Okay, it’s true that I am no stranger to three-digit jeans. (I am not proud of my shallowness, but damn they look good.) In fact, I have a few pairs of almost identical jeans that cost far more than any sane person would pay. (Start rationalization/ But they were on sale and I really have a hard time finding jeans that fit well. /End rationalization.)
But high three-digits? No. Just, no. Do I want Naked and Famous jeans. Yes. But I also want to pay my mortgage and visit New York where I can ogle even more clothing I can’t afford.
Sometimes I do succumb and splurge on things I can’t live without. I own a butter-soft designer leather biker jacket that makes me feel almost as stylish as Gwyneth Paltrow. It’s stunning. It looks great on me. I love it. I often admire it in my closet.
But the stupidest thing? I rarely wear it. It’s almost like it’s too nice to put on. I wear my $39 jean jacket from Old Navy far more often. If anyone can explain to me why I do this, I am open to the answer.