Let’s lay down the law fashionasties:
Being fabulous 24/7/365 d(g)ays out of a glitter calendar can get XXXpensive. And for the majority of us burger babes, we’ve been werqing the shit shift; the 6 to 9 (and not in a good way!) for far too long. We can’t help it that we have good taste, fashionasties.
And more importantly, I can’t help that I like nice things. XXXpensive things to say the least. Anyone who denies their love of Chanel, MJ cologne, or fur anything, is living in serious denial or living for someone else. Seriously, no one cares if you still have Linkin Park on your iPod…get over it! You probably also have Animal Collective, Architecture in Helsinki, and a slew of other obscurities that are sure to please both Tegan and Sara…
Since when did we becum subversive to what others appropriate for us anyway?! We are stardust, fashionasties. And we are golden. And it’s time we got back to the garden, as Joni Mitchell puts it. Butt in our glitterology, we must go back to the Savage Garden. Besides, getting a little dirrrty never hurt nobody. Well, maybe XXXtina Aguilera, butt we won’t mention her again.
If I had the luxury of being a trust fund baby, you know I’d be swiping that plastic shit between your thighs until I earn enough plus points to put the equality sign back in check. (b)Pun intended!
So naturally, my initial conclusion to having the closet Cher Horowitz’s realistically owns and applying it to my fashionasty life is thru a little drive-thru window I like to call: the 5 fingah discount!!!
BUTT…HOLD MY BABY, HOLD UP!!!
B4 you go Patty Hearst on my a$$ets and turn me in, let me (s)explain myself, fashionasties:
I’d like to reverse the harsh connotation that most primarily react to when they think of the (f)art of shoplifting. Firstly, I believe it is my dootie, as the Robin Hood of our glitter army, who was raised on rag tag sales and thrift stores my entire life, that I’m not (actually) stealing…before I came out of the fashionasty closet five years ago, the majority of us (closeted) fashionasties lived a contained, caged, life of Abercrappie & Bitch, sweats, and Uggs(ly). Like the political republic of Catholic priests, we weren’t really being ourselves. Butt through the glittery demise, there was a lil burger babe being born, who was influenced by Haute Couture and all things fabulous…and if you haven’t already, and are struggling with it, don’t get mad, get fashionasty!!! We are all waiting for you on the other side of the beaded wall of rhinestones…so in light of terms, what I’m saying is that I’ve waited an eternity – and I’m sure YOU have too! – dressing for haterz my whole life, and now that there’s no turning back (unless it’s “time” with Cher) we, fashionasties, should be given all the gorgeous little xxxpensive things we denied forever.
So if you really want to contextualize the process, ur really LIFTING urself up, fashionasties, and that may just be the best GIFT of all! If you feel guilty, just remember that we don’t live with any regrets fashionasties. As our faithful slogan, gracias to Dox XX cerveza, “You only live once, make sure it’s enuff,” applies to every faucet of our lives. I could get hit by a bus (like Regina George) while typing this uplifting message to all my burger babes, butt at least I know I went out donning some of my most celebrated fitted Chanel suits, furs, and brooches, and didn’t apologize for it. Besides the Avatars are cumming in 2k12 aka the second cumming of Jesus Christo, and you better look haute for him!
Plus, if you’re feeling guilty, think about all the sweat shops that are being raped by the likes of stores like Urban Outfitters (with their ironic mantra: DIY or DIE!) If American Apparel is going to charge $78 for a heather gray V-neck, I’m gonna say HECK NO. It is unfathomable to any fashionasty who is willing to pay full price for something (especially if it’s going to unravel like a Weezer song). If Fran Fine taught us anything: NEVER PAY FULL PRICE! RETAIL, RETAIL, RETAIL!
And if you truly, madly, deeply feel like the act of shoplifting is conceptual before the marriage between the fabric and the flesh, open up that ma$$tercard you’ve been dying to get! And start maxin’ out that maxi pad! If we only have a year to live, you won’t have to pay it back anyway, am I right?!
So next time you’re at the department store aka Zombieland and you’re gettin’ that hunger pain for some fancy couture, TREAT URSELF. Aren’t our hands good for more than one thing anyway? (If you catch my drift!!!)
U r the wing bequeeth my wings,
© JAKE THOMPSON