Dear Urban Outfitters,

We need to talk.


When we first made eye contact in 1998, I was smitten. It was love at first site, instant attraction and chemistry; I was sure you were "The One." Your style was just like mine, I felt like I was finally a united Gemini, I was whole. I mean, come on! A black cowl-neck sweater, with special THUMB HOLES on the extra long sleeves? I usually have to rip thumb holes in my sweater to accommodate and warm my opposing digits. But you, with your infinite style wisdom, had taken the extra step to bring comfort and warmth to the body part that separates humans from animals. WELL DONE.

It was the beginning of an incredibly, beautiful, friendship.

Through the years I have depended on your sales rack in times of trouble and despair. I have exulted in the arrival of your catalog and down right laid on the ground and cried tears of elated joy at the grand opening of your store in my town, located down the street from my house. LESS THAN A MILE AWAY.

WE WERE PRACTICALLY NEIGHBORS!

We were reunited and it felt so, so, good.

Housewares, underwear, shoes, sundresses and giant sunglasses, OH MY! I was in heaven.

Fast forward five years and the world has changed, but do I still feel the same? I still get that little rush of excitement when I see the "UO" symbol sticking out in my pile of mail, yet that rush is soon followed by an empty feeling of indifference. The bees of excitement that would go crazy in my belly have been replaced by a regular, squishy feeling. The thrill of the first scent of commerce upon walking through your doors used to make me giddy and now makes me feel nothing.

It's over.

This conclusion was not an easy one to come to. I came to this conclusion after much denial and personal anguish.

I have outgrown you.

I know, I can't believe it either.

I was born in 1976, and though I was only in "short pants" when 1980 rolled around, I remember the Eighties quite well. I also remember what people were wearing whether fashionable, or questionable. There are many trends in the Eighties that I liked, and still think are flattering and beautiful.

HOWEVER, there are many trends from the Eighties that should be erased from our memories, vaulted in a nuclear bomb shelter, never to be remembered again. Unfortunately, these trends make up about 88% of your summer and fall line for 2008.

The truth in my outgrowing our relationship, is evident in the old adage, "If you remember a trend the first time around, you are too old to wear it the second time."

Such infinite wisdom from such clichés, I know.

BUT..........

Your line is seriously fugly, completely unflattering, and the materials you are using are egregiously cheap.

Pardon my French, but where the fuck do you get off? In order to wear any of these shapeless frocks without looking like a hippo in a mu mu, a young woman must only weigh about 90 pounds. Young women like to be "hip" and "cute" many, who have healthy, beautiful, bodies, don these garments and they look like shapeless, blobs with no waists, curves or butts. Not a good look for 90% of American women.




Also, let's talk about that hemline. Did Patsy Darling finally snap her fingers to raise hemlines so high that we are all now aspiring gynocologists? I am down with a "mini", I am not down with being able to spy a strangers dungarees in the event of a cool breeze.

Also, what is up with the banded bottom?


Anyone who tries to wear this dress that has even the slightest shape in their hips and thighs, ends up looking like a bubble sack. In fact, the last time I saw someone wearing an outfit like this was when Blanche Devereaux pranced around the shuffleboard deck on the Swinging Seniors cruise she, Dorothy and Rose took to Mexico.

NOT A GOOD LOOK.


And finally, may I present the most damning of evidence that you, Urban Outfitters, are perpetuating the "fugly".



You cannot be serious. Please, please, please tell me this is a joke!

HEAVY METAL MOCCASINS?

The only people who should ever adorn their feet with these abominations are those terminally lost in the crowd at a Tesla concert in 1987, Native Americans during a peyote ritual, or trailer park Satan Worshippers/Renaissance Fair actors.

They are just WRONG.

Based on all of this damning evidence, I have come to the conclusion that it is time to sever all ties with you and not just because I have outgrown you, but because your beauty has worn off, the looks have faded and you are a shell of your former self. I hate to be harsh, but I have to be strong.

I will miss you and the times we had together. I may reunite with you in the future for brief flings with drastically-reduced-in- price picture frames and bedroom quilts, but our apparel days are over.

It was good while it lasted, but now, it is time to bid "adieu."

Take care of yourself and tell your sister, Anthropologie, I said "s'up."

The Confused Dildo