One new e-mail, From: J.Crew. Subject:Sorry for the rant. Morale of the story: Online shopping is a bitch. There I said it. If you have any recommendations, bring 'em on! top in my tracks. Too good to be true? Who knows, but I dive right in. After much contemplation and overanalyzing, I make an unconfident selection from an overwhelming collection of tops and bottoms. Next I fill out seven pages of shipping and billing information. Then I anxiously await for what feels like months for the small package to arrive. The day comes when I get home from work and there it lies. Wrapped tight as ever, requiring scissors or a knife to tear open the damn thing. I nervously pull out the goodies, hoping for the best. Make the quick switch, off with the old, on with the new. To the mirror I run and there I stand. I know immediately it's not right. The top does nothing for me. The bottoms are better than expected, but nope. It's not the perfect summer suit I was looking for.
Pissed. Ticked. Trying to determine what is worse? The fuckingfreaking returning process or the fact that I have to continue my gosh damndarn search.