I officially have a problem but am unsure if a cure exists. If my friends are good, one will certainly read this and take action, preferably by cutting up my Visa or simply hiding it. After proudly declaring at a party last night that I would refuse to enter a store for two weeks, I found myself crumbling today. Alex dragged me to Opening Ceremony, where I made a concession that if I was to buy anything, it would have to be a sweater for the simple fact that it is winter and I own only one sweater. However, their collection of sweaters available failed to titilate and I found myself drooling over this John Lawrence Sullivan grey/ivory tweed blazer instead.
The tweed is thick and nubby, giving the jacket an Armani-in-the-80's feel that brought me to boner city. I bought it but I cannot afford it in any way. It's a very good thing that my father just so happened to bring me a care package from home full of enough homemade chili, chicken soup, deli meats and pasta accoutrements to feed me for a month.
Before you write me off as some shopaholic imbacile, I should let it be known that I don't spend all of my money on clothes. Just yesterday I was passing by the Alabaster Bookstore on 4th Avenue where I nabbed a Marcel Proust biography and Less Than Zero for a total of $4. I feed my dilapidated clothing rack and my mind with equal TLC.