I got a Banana Republic credit card the other day. I love Banana Republic. And Gap. Besides those two places, I only buy clothes online and occasionally at JCPenney (I know it’s for old women, but I park there so while walking through the store I stop and buy something). Steve told me I could spend a bit over my usual allotment this weekend (don’t swoon over him, ladies: I came into some extra money completely on my own and he was allowing me to spend it).
So between the extra money and now having this credit card, I feel the need to buy things. After I spend $800 I get free shipping on online orders all the time. This is what my sister would call a “marketing scheme.” She loves to say that. She’s always trying to talk me out of buying things as if it’s going to work. But I’m OK w/being part of the very influenceable consumer public. What my sister doesn’t understand is I like to buy things.
So I was online looking for something I could buy to work my way up to my $800. Problem is, Banana Republic only employs ugly models. Seriously. Take a look for yourself:
I was about to buy this cardigan and then I realized it would make me look like a middle-aged librarian who is in desperate need of a root touch-up.
Her face says: “Let me guess: you’re surprised I’m a model? Well so am I!”
Needless to say, I didn’t find anything online. At the mall last night I tried on some pants that I really liked but I thought, no, I could get those cheaper online with some coupon code off retailmenot. But it turns out I couldn’t. So I dreamt about the pants that got away, woke up this morning and made it to the store in time for the last pair in my size. Something about not seeing them on a hideous model made me like them.