|Image: from Thinkstock (with a little help from Paint)|
I hope all is well in Sweden. Seems your Krona is faring strongly in these uncertain times. Anyhow, the reason for my letter may cause you to consider a bailout, despite your fortuitous circumstances.
It pains me to have to write this but some things just need to be said. You know we’ve always had such a special relationship. Your tuxedo pants always made me feel supermodel thin; not least those slinky silk tops. But lately, things have changed.
It all started with those flimsy hems. I was prepared to overlook having to Bondaweb my red Pearl maxi skirt, especially when I received so many compliments upon wearing it. You always knew how to make a girl feel pretty, didn’t you? So much so that I foolishly bought another in black, only to have you let me down in the same way again. How could I be so stupid?
But a hem seemed such a trivial thing in the greater scheme of things. You were my brand and damn it; I’m the kind of gal who stands by her brand! So I bought your ‘Truth’ maxi dress for my trip to Rome only to be embarrassed by yet another hem indiscretion; this time with stretching! P.S. Ironic name for a dress, no?
Despite all this, I just wasn’t prepared to let go; not until the zip incident that is. How could you just let it burst apart like it was a trifle – on Grafton Street of all places! It literally happened behind my back and I was just too stupid to see it. All I can say is, thank God I wasn’t wearing a thong. Now I can never wear that skirt again. How could I ever trust that you wouldn’t do it again? And don’t you dare say it’s because of the
junk in my trunk (corr: lead in the shed). I’ll have you know I’ve lost a lot of that post-holiday weight!
So this is goodbye. Don’t think you can tempt me with your A/W 11 mohair offering. I’m not falling for it. You’ll just shed all over me again. I’m through.
Please don’t return my calls. And I hope I never run into you on a certain internet shopping site ever again!