On Saturday, I had an idea: “I should go to Forever 21!” This always sounds like a good idea – cheap clothes, cute ruffles, trends that will go out of style tomorrow but you must have them today, etc. However, upon my arrival at the front doors, I was reminded of the cold, hard truth – a truth that I already knew, since I have learned it many times before, but I always forget when I get swept up in the moment.
I HATE Forever 21.
It is my own personal hell.
First of all, is there any rhyme or reason to the way that the clothes are arranged? It is impossible to find anything in that store. Racks of magenta clubbing attire next to bins of mesh t-shirts beside half-clothed mannequins on top of tables piled high with plastic belted cardigans… It’s like the cast of “High School Musical” set off a dirty bomb.
Secondly, the music is unbelievably obnoxious. I can’t decide if it makes me want to curl into the fetal position or open fire. Must shoppers be subjected to songs that include panting? Panting?
And finally, do any of the clothes even fit me? I mean, I know that technically, these items are made for pre-pubescent, hipless anorexics, but I have plenty of curvy lady friends who find treasures there. I don’t expect that a Forever 21 medium will fit me like an Actual Normal Sized Woman medium might, so I have no problem looking at the larges, and even extra-larges. But honestly? Extra-extra-large?
That’s just rude.
I bought nothing.