In the early morning hours, one of my best friends was sitting in a Target parking lot , while I was sat at my kitchen table, constantly refreshing my Macbook, iPad, and iPhone while my cat, who vowed to stay up with me, passed out on my lap. Why would any sane person do this? Three words: Missoni for Target. I was like a rabid dog the second the collection was available online, buying shoes, dresses, cardigans, umbrellas, shower curtains, and handbags in a frenzy. My friend hit two or three Targets that day, buying the coveted blankets, listing them on eBay, and making insane profits. She's clearly more savvy than I, no, I just needed all of these things. In the weeks that followed, I scoured Targets looking for more items I didn't have yet, feeling so fucking fashionable as I waltzed up to checkout with my goods. I did this exact same thing each designer collaboration, staying up all night for the online launch, driving myself insane if I didn't get that one item I had my eye on. Don't even get me started on Neiman Marcus for Target, Jason Wu, Phillip Lim, Peter Pilotto. "I can order it from Net-a-Porter, ohmigawwwwwdddd, give me all the thingz." I'm telling you, I should be locked up.
After all that, you know where my coveted Missoni blanket is? In the basement. My cat sleeps on it. It is caked with cat hair. Fucking disgusting. Maybe it's maturity finally occurring in my mid-20s or perhaps I'm less insecure, but I didn't stay up all night for Altuzarra for Target. Yes, I browsed the lookbook the second it was released, but I didn't even rush to Target the morning of the launch. I totally forgot about it. And you what? I scored the mask from one of the PJ sets on eBay for five dollars. Last night, I bought the most on-trend peasant top from the collection on clearance for 12 dollars. Maybe I am growing up after all?
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