I had an emotionally scarring experience last week at Kitson, where I saw a leather jacket which lured me in with its beauty and then hurt my feelings with its price tag. I was nearly having an anxiety attack while I stroked it on the shelf, touching the soft and perfect texture, while my friends urged me to "just try it on," and 99 Luftballoons blasted in the background, and the cute little asian saleslady re-arranged some kitten-shaped shoes directly to my left. It was SHEER, the manner in which I had instantly become a materialistic, jacket-coveting beotch. Normally, I can at least keep my mind two tracked.
I resisted temptation's pull, fought back tears, but haven't stopped thinking about how it only cost multiple hundreds of dollars, and maybe I can fly back to LA just to buy it. Especially because every website I see it on now is charging over $100 MORE for this beautiful object of my desire. What a kick in my non-existent balls.
If anyone buys this for me, me love you LONG time......
Moral of the story: FUCK YOU NICOLE RICHIE.
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