So I used to live and breathe J. Crew. Back in the days before the innernet, I’d devour the catalog and irritate my mother by falling in love with a sweater, without which future happiness was impossible. Then I got a job, and started buying my own J. Crew. J. Crew got a website! J. Crew stores came into Utah! I got a J. Crew credit card! I worked for J. Crew for about two months, where I spent about twice what I earned! You get the picture.
But now I can’t look at a J. Crew catalog without wanting to fling it across the room, usually followed by some expletives. J. Crew, what went wrong between us? How did it get so bad? Is it because you are SO EXPENSIVE? Consider this dress, made of cotton corduroy:
It’s $120. I could make it for $12.
And while price is a big part of it, J. Crew, I started to realize something was wrong between us even before I became the cheapest woman in the world. I blame your prose style. There never used to be any copy in the catalog, other than the fiber content and the color name. Now, there are condescending “Did You Know” sections (“The secret is too good to keep to ourselves…so we’re letting you in on what you might (or might not) already know”) [note: what?] and useless bits like this: “Our head designer loves this design so much, we named it after her.” J. Crew, I hate to say this, but I don’t care.
So J. Crew, I’m afraid we’re over. Even the shoes, J. Crew–even the shoes aren’t quite what they used to be. I know this is hard, but it’s better this way. For me.
(Now all I need to do is figure how to remove the link to J. Crew in the right nav here. I can’t very break up with J. Crew and keep promoting it.)
Sweet sweet Karen…I can’t believe it’s all over. The moonlit walks, the early morning talks; all over. I used to think we’d be together forever, my wooly chenille goodness wrapped around your creamy porcelain shoulders, comforting you through all those trying times.
The way you caressed the nap of my fleece as we strolled along that windswept and lonely beach in Carmel, and how I returned the favor by driving us home in the rented convertible after you had one too many glasses of chablis during dinner. So many special moments that will burn in my heart forever.
I suppose we’ve been growing apart for some time now and I should have seen this coming. I could tell I wasn’t satisfying you in the same ways as before and I guess deep down I knew our parting was inevitable. It’s just painful that something so right had to end like this.
Yes, you’re right, my content has grown (and not in a good way) since we first got together, and I am deeply sorry for that. I only wish you could understand that I did it to try and make myself better. All I ended up doing was hurting those closest to me. For that I’ll forever feel guilty.
I suppose in the end, this really will be the best thing for both of us. It’ll give you a chance to find someone who can truly touch your soul the way I tried (but failed) to. And it’ll give me a chance to explore the newfound freedom I feel in my ‘Did You Know’ blurbs.
If we don’t ever see each other again, please remember me as someone who will always treasure our precious moments together, and who will always love you- even if I do remove you from my mailing list. Please don’t take that personally; it’s just business.
Goodbye Karen….and best of luck with everything.
P.S.- can I have my ‘Umbrellas of Cherbourg’ DVD back?
Isn’t making your own *FABULOUS* clothes more satisfying, as well?