It's friggin Sunday, I want to finish the book for my book club (Memories of My Melancholy Whores by Garcia-Marquez), I want to finish painting my living room, I want to eat ribs and drink beer, the last thing I want to do is go to Kitson on Robertson for a schmooze fest. But I am lured by the promise of a good gift bag, and some cool new duds to inspect. As soon as I approach the store I seriously debate turning around and going home— there's a tent pitched outside housing a pack of paparazzi on media risers, and a red carpet (it seems they throw one down for anything these days) has been rolled out. But I press on, in the name of work— Kitson has a new partner Guy Oseary and Rebel Yell is launching an extended line. Inside, there are so many people huddled here and there, slumped over clothing and display cases, it feels like an airport after a snow storm, people seem stuck, bored, waiting for the layover announcement. I ask the waitress carrying mini-mac and cheese bowls if there is going to be a fashion show. She wrinkles her nose, “I don't think so,” she says. Another waitress comes by with jello shots, and they confirm, no fashion show. I head to the bar
for a red bull and vodka, and pass Samantha Ronson who is the DJ for the event, this is the second time I've seen her in four days. I think that somewhere in the world that means we're dating. I think it's time she met my parents. I get stuck in an unmoving pool of people, and I see why every one is still hanging out at a non event such as this— Demi and Ashton are curled up in each others arms. Can they really be that much in love? It looked like it. I spot two of Demi's daughters, the one that looks like Bruce and the one that looks like her.
Jeez, nothing like Kitson to really bring the generations together. Demi and her daughters could be the poster gals for the store. Kitson is a total MILF mecca, on any given day you can find 40 year old moms shopping for themselves and their 12 year old daughters, for things like Juicy Couture charm bracelets, True Religion jeans, and now Rebel Yell tees and hoodies. Demi is wearing a hoodie from the youthful Rebel Yell line, an
old varsity fleece zip-up with unfinished seams. I don't know what to make of the whole thing. I once went on a family trip with a boyfriend and I was wearing a Juicy Couture dress and his little 11 year old sister had on the same dress and his mom was wearing a Juicy hoodie. Three generations of Juicy. Is that right? Maybe it is. I mean does a woman have to head to Eileen Fisher after 30? after 40? And if Desperate Housewives has made 40 the new 30, does that make 30 the new 20?
I wait an appropriate amount of time before lining up for my gift bag and it's filled
with cute stuff— knee socks, a hat and a jersey tee. Great! but now, I'm wondering if I am too old to wear this shit? I feel like maybe I'm too old. The very fact that it came from Kitson
makes it suspect. My friend says the stuff is cute and that I
rock all of it at different times, though not, under any circumstances, all together as one outfit. For shits and giggles she convinces me (coaxed by Coronas) to do a few American Apparel-type shots of my goodie bag goods. All items by Rebel Yell. You see the results of our folly here.
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