In Defense of The Gap

So I'm fully aware that The Gap is having financial problems or existential problems or probably a combination of the two. My mom is an accounting professor, and over the past few years or so, she has assailed me (more than once) with threats and tales of how one of my favorite stores is struggling to keep its head above water. A quick glance at the Gap website affirms this. In the past year or so, gap.com has become a strange mix of funky little movies, ugly outfits and fashion advice from Patrick Robinson, who remains better known to me for his Go! International Line at Target and the mega cute shirt I bought from said line. Gap does seem to be playing the role of the Jan Brady of the fashion world, its expensive celebrity models and flashy video begging for just one look while the whole of our culture stares complacently at the competitors' shiny, well-loved hair.

Today, on one of my favorite websites (jezebel.com), there is a post about The Gap, and the general consensus among the readers is that it sucks. Lots of readers have commented about how they have long since left the Gap behind for the greener pastures of H&M and Forever 21. I, however, sat reading the comments, feeling left out. I still like The Gap! In fact, I have a coupon from there that I fully intend on using before it expires on Saturday. To me, The Gap is STILL the number one place for denim (I can find the Curvy kinds I like in the petite size I need), and lately, I have found some really cute dresses there as well. I am just filled with Gap love!

My love for The Gap started when I was in the 7th grade. I'll never forget it. I had just made the giant leap from the kids department (at the time we didn't have "tween" shops like Justice or Limited II where I currently spend more money than I care to think about) to the juniors. My wardrobe was hurting. I remember having one pair of Levi's jeans that were a size 3 in an extra slim fit (it's been awhile....) that I wore with these uber heavy turtleneck tunics and Sam and Libby white leather ballet flats. I believe that the turtleneck tunics had roses embroidered on them. Anyway, my mom noticed my scant wardrobe one weekend and told me to get ready...we were going to Johnson City!!!! I remember just being so amazed; I think she was just sick of having to wash out my jeans three times a week. Growing up in southwest VA, Johnson City represented a sort of fashion mecca. It was about an hour and a half away, and it was the home of East Tennesse State University, where my mom had gotten her bachelors. To me, it was madly metropolitan. Hells bells--they even had an Olive Garden. So we packed up and drove over. I remember my mom parking near the Ruby Tuesday and telling me that we would eat there and that they kept the plates for their salad in some sort of chiller so that everything tasted fresh....I couldn't imagine anything more classy. After our Ruby Tuesday meal, we walked down the glittering hall of the Johnson City mall. On the right there was (and there still is--I bought a dress there when I was home for Christmas) a Gap. I had heard of the Gap from the beloved Seventeen, YM, and Sassy magazines I subscribed to. We went in. I remember it being like love at first sight. Everything looked so...perfect. I tried on everything. This ended up being our only stop because I was able to find so many things. I remember my favorite outfits being a pair of pallazzo pants with tiny flowers on them, paired with an olive green short sleeved sweater, a black jacket, and (gasp) a black hat, not so unlike the one Blossom wore on her regular Monday night 8:30 slots. I also managed to find a pair of low-rise jeans that broke the bank at $50 and that I paired with a white long sleeved t-shirt with a picture of San Francisco on the front (I never imagined that I would live near the city immortalized on my favorite tee!). I was in heaven.

And through the years, there have been many perfect pieces found at the Gap. I've had two denim jackets from there, and probably should be looking at buying a third. The outfit I was wearing when I first caught my husband checking out my ass was from the Gap. I got through the bulk of my college career with one wool skirt, a pair of wool pants and a few oxford shirts from the Gap. And although now it is not always my first stop fashion-wise, I always make a point to check it out.

Many argue that the Gap cannot find its target audience and that it is constantly toeing the everpresent tight rope between wanting to appeal to teenagers or their mothers. Possibly this is one reason why I find the Gap so damn appealing--because I am toeing that line myself. As a very young mom, I like things that grasp my "young maturity." Maybe this is why it works for me... Plus, it sure doesn't hurt that I can pick up stuff for my kids next door at Gap Kids. With its mix of well-made basics and cute foundations, the Gap totally fits into my current life, just as it did when I was a smart assed 7th grader.

So what are your feelings about the Gap? Do you shop there? Do you feel their look fits your life? Or is it just a remnant of the bygone past before the days of H&M and its ilk?

New Year, New Shopping, New Posts

Ok, so I know I'm a horrible blogger. Sorry. So many of you have emailed me or commented or sent me evil mind rays asking me why I haven't posted, when indeed, the holidays are a ways behind us. Here's the thing, though. In the House of the Black Sweater, we hold on to holidays as long as we possibly can. I didn't return to the Bay Area, and thus, Life as We Know It, until last Saturday, and then promptly went to sleep and didn't wake up until Monday (yesterday). Then I've had two crazy days at work and the BCS game was on last night, and I was there with 35 chicken wings...ok, ok, just color me apologetic. Anyway, let's get down to the clothes, which, as you know, is always the most important thing.

So I actually have a lot to write about because my mom and I did a lot of shopping while I was at home. Plus, I got TWO new pairs of boots! Yea! I have a black leather pair and a brown suede pair, and here's the thing--they actually fit my fat calves!!!! I feel like I can die a happy woman. This is actually just a precursor to the post I hope to author in a couple of days detailing my whole torrid relationship with said boots. If that doesn't give you something to wake up for in the morning, I don't know what does.

But the subject of this post is actually quite a bit different. It concerns being a snob. Or rather, judging a book by its cover. Or even, falling into a fashion rut and not seeing the here nor the there. Anyway, as many of you know, I have a few favorite stores that I almost exclusively shop at. If you see the list in the following post, you know what they are. Pieces from J. Crew, Banana Republic, Gap, Nordstrom (every once in a while), Old Navy, and Target make up my entire wardrobe. I seriously don't think I own a single piece that didn't come from one of those stores (well, I can think of two right now--a dress from Land's End and a dress from H&M--, so there are probably more, but you get the idea). It's not that I don't like things from other stores--it's just that these stores seem to fit me well without me really thinking about it, I can order pieces from their websites, they have good return policies, I could go on and on. Because I do very little shopping in malls, it's easy to lull myself into a world where not only are these the only stores that I shop at, these are the only stores that exist. This is not necessarily a bad thing--I have merely found things that fit my personal style--but I have started even thinking certain things about other stores (and in some naughty cases--the people that shop there). Forever 21 is for slutty party girls whose skin doesn't recoil at the sight of polyester (mine seems to break out in a rash at polyester and that's no lie), Abercrombie and Fitch is for genetically blessed teenagers, Chico's is for English professors and their ilk, J. Jill is for giants (seriously, have you ever tried on anything in there? I'm pretty sure Shaquille O'Neal buys his drag outfits in there)...I could go on and on.

And that is a bad thing. Just as with people, you shouldn't judge. I'm sure that if I tried, and actually looked, I could find something I like at every one of the stores mentioned. Case in point: I am now wearing a fantabulous new hooded cardigan from American Eagle. Now, if you grew up with me in the late 90's, you are probably well aware of American Eagle. I LOVED American Eagle when I was in high school. I got a gift card from there every year for Christmas, and I would trek out to spend it on the day after, sometimes in the midst of blinding snowstorms. I remember I had this one outfit--a pair of wide legged carpenter pants, a gray striped cotton cardigan and a white lace topped camisole--that I ADORED and paired with a chunky Claire's necklace and a pair of steel-toed brown Doc Martens. Obviously, American Eagle played a large part in my adolescence. The thing is, I haven't even been in there since I turned 17 or so. No real obvious reason--I just felt older. More refined.

That is, until my trip. My mom and I were sauntering through the mall when I saw a perfect navy cardigan hoodie with cute detailing. I told my mom that I liked it, and she points out that I should go in and try it on. "Oh, no, I can't," I say. My mom asks why not. I tell her that it is in American Eagle and I don't shop there. She looks at me like my head is on fire, and like all mothers who have been put through more shit than they care to acknowledge, just grabs my arm and leads me into the store, her head shaking. We find the sweater, and I take it to try on. Sure enough, it is cute. Really cute (you can see it at the side and see if you agree, although the details that you can't see are what set it off--it ties in the back, and the pockets in front are adorable). I'm standing in the dressing room, knowing that I like it, and still finding crap to say. "I shouldn't get it--it's for teenagers," I think. "What if one of my students has the same one?" Once again, my mother sets me straight. All she has to say to answer my question are the gentle words, "Shit, Morgan," and then she grabs the sweater and makes for the door, leaving me standing in my camisole and coral bra. She ends up buying it for me, which is nice, and reminds me of why I should live near my mom year round. I reciprocate by buying her a Diet Lemonade at Chick Fil-A and talking her into buying a pair of boots like my own. Who said motherhood is a thankless job?

Anyway, that should be the end of the story with the "Don't judge a book by its cover" moral rightly learned, but then I went shopping again at a different mall, this one bigger and better, and happen to visit the store Aerie, which is the lingerie side of American Eagle. I have never been there, as when I was a slutty teenager, we had to buy (or shoplift, depending on just how rebellious you were) our lingerie at Parks Belk like everyone else (I will admit to a few five fingered discounts of Guess lingerie, since I'm pretty sure that the statute of limitations on that kind of thing ran out many years ago). Ok, so Aerie is every slutty teenagers' wet dream--there are lots of cute, frilly things, and pictures of young models wearing them on the wall (including Vanessa from Gossip Girl who I kinda hate, but who was wearing the panties I ended up buying). They also have cute basics--pajama pants, yoga pants, and cotton undies to name a few. As one can deduce from reading my snarky Vanessa comment, I went with the cute cotton undies in the boy brief style which have earned me rave reviews, both from my hindparts for their comfort and from my husband who seems to ADORE them. They are seriously about the best undies I have had. Seriously. Really comfy, really cute, and in lots of great colors. Plus they are 4 for $20, which beats the pants off the 3 for $25 VS ones I was buying.

I only feel slightly pervy because in the end, Aerie is definitely for younger girls who probably shouldn't be buying the stuff they are buying for the reasons they are buying it for. I shiver when I think of the day my daughter discoves Aerie and my son discovers girls who shop at Aerie. And then I went on their website to find a picture for this blog, and also to buy more undies, and I find this picture of this girl above, and she looks well under the age of consent (kind of like Jamie Lynn Spears, come to think of it), and the whole thing makes me feel like I should be named Chester and spending a great deal of time in chat rooms talking to Chris Hanson. But whatever. I like Aerie. So screw the moral consequences.

Speaking of morals....this is long, but I hope it comes across that I want you, my lovely little croquembouches, to go out and try new stores in 2008. I certainly will. Seeing the success of my cardigan, I may hit up A&F next. My only fear is that I will emerge after shopping there, slightly deaf and bitching about the young people and their music. Oy.