Catalog Queen

I had a huge epiphany three minutes ago. Catalog season is in full swing (82 days until Christmas!) and it hit me like a ton of bricks, literally just now…

You (or I should say Me, or I) can tell a lot about yourself (myself) by the clothing catalogs you (I) order from. Oh, hell, it’s just me from here on in, okay? I can’t really tell a lot about others from their preferred catalogs but definitely a lot about myself. And also how I’ve changed (code for aged) over the years in my catalog preferences. AND, not to mention the catalogs that show up in my mailbox because I have slipped into some black hole demographic that spits out data to catalog companies that I am “of a certain age” that statistically should like Soft Surroundings. It was on the 25^th consecutive page of tunics and tummy control pull-on pants that I heaved it to the recycle pile. I liked the first tunic and even the fifth, but now I refuse to order anything from them on principal. I seemed to have slipped into this ready-to-wear category so comfortably, I didn’t even notice! It’s all part of their evil plan I am sure.

I am still clinging to my Boston Proper catalog because I too, want to wear it like no one else (their tag line, if you didn’t know.) Try as I may a few times every year, I purchase form-fitting lycra-blend sweaters that wont withstand more than one wash and sure, I can get away with wearing a neon fedora to compliment my plunging neckline tankini and coordinating strappy platform heel. It was so appropriate at the pool this summer watching my five-year-old do cannonballs off the diving board.

Thank you Athleta catalog for being my saving grace with wearable bathing suits and cute casual wear but even then, how many times can I be seen in black yoga pants? And even in their amazingly slimming mystery fabric, I can’t quite pull off standing on a paddleboard just right so the sun bounces off my six-pack (like the model) and deflects on-lookers from my unyielding underarm waddle.

Gone are the days when Victoria’s Secret frequented my mailbox. Not that I truly care, I could never get their bras to fit right, but it would be nice to be thought of by the Sex Goddess Style Makers of The Limited Companies once in a while.

And today I relished every page of the indulgent Gorsuch catalog that makes its lustrous appearance but once a year. From these pages I see the StaceyLu I wish to be! I picture myself in their timeless ski clothes that make me miraculously able to ski and more pressingly, I have the discretionary income to spend $4200 on a lavish shearling coat or at the very least, $500 on a really nice turtleneck sweater.

So, I am officially taking a stand against the mocking solicitations beckoning from the purveyors of sweater dusters, miracle cremes, and slouchy wool socks emblazoned with Adirondack animals. You know who you are!! Which reminds me, stay clear of any catalog that will sell you a matte jersey rouched dress from the same page as a down comforter. One day in the coming months, you will be walking around thinking you are hot stuff in your new dress only to get a glimpse of yourself in a holiday photo and realize in horror that you not-so-subtly resemble the comforter.