One of my favorite past times, a close second to lusting after barmen that don’t want me back and drinking their booze, is shopping with other people’s money. God how that brings me joy and a sense of completion. Today, just such an opportunity arose.
One of my favorite places to peruse the racks and pretend to be able to afford things is Anthropologie. This shop has some of the cutest stuff that I’ve ever seen. The problem is that the the prices are as high as the clothes are cute. While I’ve shopped there in the past, I try to control myself. This is pretty easy as shopping there on a frequent basis would require that I either sell one of my limbs, or bj’s on the street corner.
This afternoon was different-I found myself at Anthropologie with my mom and her wallet. She insisted that I try on a few things, and the next thing I know I’m walking out of the store with:
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this shirt and this other shirt
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this skirt (which ironically enough is called the “Welcome Wagon” skirt)
You know what this means, right? It means that I can make it the entire Memorial Weekend with a different Anthropologie outfit. AND it means that I have a new outfit to wear for my date with booze tonight.