Monday, December 17, 2007

The Fashion Show

I spent my lunch hour finishing up the Christmas shopping for my beautiful bride. This weekend I prompted her for more gift ideas as all she had given me prior to this was "gloves" and I didn't want the sum total of her Christmas experience to be an Isotoner commercial. After thinking about what to ask for, she told me that I always do a good job of picking out clothes for her, which, admittedly, I do, so I could do that. Oh, she added, and I love Michael Kors. Prior to this conversation, I had never heard the man's name, however I'm smart enough to know that when your wife tells you that she loves a certain designer, she's either dropping a very large hint, or she's having an affair. Either way, you lose.

How Linda even knows of this person is a mystery. My wife is not a girly-girl. That's not to say that she isn't feminine, just that he has rarely shown an interest in the stereotypical girly hobbies such as fashion and make-up. Granted, she reads In Style magazine, but I just assumed that any items found in a magazine about celebrity fashion were not attainable by mere mortals. Personally, I blame Oprah as her leering visage recently started showing up in our mailbox. Linda says that she likes the magazine, but would like it better if Oprah had nothing to do with it, something I find very odd. It is, after all, Oprah's magazine. Every month I get Cooking Light, Game Informer and Playboy and I can assure you that they all represent my interests quite faithfully. Food, boobs and video games are some of my favorite things.

Armed with the knowledge that my wife loves both Michael Kors and Calvin Klein (him I already knew about) I set out to do some shopping. From my trip to the store, the only additional information I have about Michael Kors is that the man is infatuated with belts. Time and time again I would find a very nice shirt only to pull it off the rack and find that someone had soldered a metal belt to it. I can only assume that the man has some sort of investment in a copper mine because the man's clothing is lousy with the stuff.

Thankfully I am not so helpless in the ways of female fashion to be stopped by some metallic accessories and I continued to shop undaunted. I must admit that I have no idea how people can afford to buy designer clothing. Most of my wardrobe consists of things from Target, Old Navy and Kohls, and what isn't from those stores is from the Penny Arcade store. I have simple tastes. To think that there are people out there that simply walk into a store and think nothing about dropping 90 bucks on a sweater blows my mind. I am not one of those people, regardless of whose name is on the damn thing and instead I was able to parlay multiple discounts, including one obtained by opening a store credit card, into savings of mythological proportions. Normally I wouldn't bother opening up a store card, however the savings were too much to pass up. Too much! I'm told I can cancel it any time. Actually what I was told is that the card will cancel itself, however I find it very hard to believe that even death could break the surly bonds of credit fashioned between myself and this store.

With this trip, the shopping is almost complete, save for stocking stuffers and the like. I can assure you that I will not be opening up a store credit card for these items as I have no need for a gas station credit card. I can pay for my Slim Jims with cash, thank you very much.

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