Now I have proof that I am changing. The Bloomingdale’s holiday catalog arrived today and there is not one thing in the whole catalog that I want…except maybe the man on page 159. But, seriously, I feel like the models are in a private club and the only way to get in is to buy their clothes and try to look like them. Odds are that I can’t possibly look like them anyway.
But the club looks like so much fun! They are happily gazing out into the distance…those unblemished, unwrinkled, perfectly untidy girls. Voyeurism with the promise of being transformed and belonging. They look like they have everything under control. Now you’re talking. Which department sells that?
They call their customers “Insiders”. Do we really think that we can get Inside? Here’s the deal, even if we wear the clothes, we will never really be on the Inside. We will always be Outsiders because it’s not our club, and it’s not real anyway. Just when we get the look, they change it. If we buy into the hype, we will be chasing the group trying to look like them and feeling empty because we know that they are always out of reach, and what we want is not for sale.
Well, who cares about trying to be like them? I protest! I am putting my Lands’ End foot down! I don’t want to belong to their club anyway. The pictures imply confidence and pleasure, attentive lovers, fun at a party. Really? I don’t think so! Bloomingdale’s, I’m not buying the hype or the stiletto heels!