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Toms, Gap and Mossimo: the Holy Trinity of Fashion Defeat

This is what I wore yesterday.

The shirt isn’t horrible. Well, it wasn’t when I bought it four years ago. Now it’s stained and stretched out and incredibly comfortable. I think the cat hair is an appropriate touch.

The skirt is something I bought at target, obviously without trying it on or looking at the pattern. Had I done either of those things I’d recognize that it’s hideous. By the time I dealt with the ugliness of it I’d succumbed to the comfort. It’s my writing skirt. I can sit and eat and type in this thing. If my mother had a basement I’d be wearing it in there while I blogged and sipped wine from a box.

Then there’s the Toms. There’s no excuse for the Toms. They’re a cheap shoe that’s not particularly good for your feet or the people they purport to help but they sell them at Whole Foods and I love the idea of buying my lambchops, Haagen Daaz and footwear all in the same place.

Oh wait, I actually don’t want to shop that way. It’s like Walmart, only surrounded by organic stuff.

If you’re horrified by the slide please know that the kids are too. When I picked Alexander up from school he hopped in the car and said I looked different. Did I mention that I hadn’t brushed my hair?

I told him that I didn’t feel like looking fancy if Daddy isn’t around. He nodded sagely and said, “I miss him too.”

A few hours later when I picked Jane up from volleyball at the park she chattered away a million miles an hour. Stopped abruptly, looked me up and down and said, “You got out of control pretty quickly this time Mom.”

For the record Mr. G has been out of town since Thursday. I typically only get to looking this bad after a week.

This fish needs her bicycle. Stat.