This lovely AM, I woke up at the ass-crack of dawn: 6.30. You maybe be asking, “But why would you do such a an awful thing?”. In which my answer is two words, “Sample. Sale.”… JK its actually one, “Finals.”
Yes, I’m still subject to the dreadful, tear inducing, blood spilling, “Student Pains”. After fifteen years of education, Im finally entering the home stretch of stressful January’s. Until that lovely day though, I’m strugglin’ like the rest of ‘dem’. But I digress.
During the ungodly hour of 7 o’clock AM, the thought of a Sample sale graced the prairie field that I call my “thought process”. For a moment, I considered the options, ditching this whole “Finals Thang” and go in pursuit of finding a Sample Sale in the Pre- Pubescent months I like to call B.F.W; “Before Fashion Week” or fulfill society’s requirements of getting an “education”, whatever that means.
Sadly, I went with the latter, but I cannot promise to you that I did not day dream of sensuous silks, and heating knits while drowned in post civil war America. When it was all over, I was practically gasping for someone to talk about something superficial and fashion related.
Alas, to no avail, I returned home tired, still gorgeous obvi, and drowned my pain in Chanel’s Autumn Winter ’10 show.
There are few people in this world that truly appreciate the need to gush over Isabel Marant sneakers being restocked on Net-A- Porter. Or the need ,and I emphasize need ,for a Marchesa chiffon and silk grecian gown. So when you find those people, ladies and gents, hold on to them like those last pair of marked off Chanel Yetti boots in a Sample Sale .
WANTED: Shopper in arms. Must be well versed in Net-A-Porter, man repelling and GIRLS.