uptown girl
I must confess, I've become a snob.
From the tip of my turned up nose to the curve of my snobby stomach, I want only the best.
I used to trudge around happily in my worn out skate shoes, eat at Mcdonalds every weekend, buy my entire wardrobe from discount stores, and sleep anywhere with a mattress.
But times have changed me.
I don't want to look cheap. The appeal of poorly sewn garments is quickly fading. Cheap clothing is like cheap sex, it just shouldn't be done. On the other hand, second hand stores hold many gems, from designer purses to great vintage dresses. I still need to remind myself to look past the price tag, and determine wether I really love it. And if the shoe don't fit, for god's sake I just shouldn't buy it.
The way I see it, I can buy a bin full of shirts I'll eventually grow sick of, or one I love. The choice is mine. When tempted by cheap prices, I conjure up an image of Anna Wintour, editor of Vogue, flawless in head to toe designer goods, and I'm out the door faster than you can say "Bitch!"
Now that your envisioning me in Gucci, why would I eat fast food? Why would anyone? And why should food be fast?! Even Subway seems less appealing after discovering THE sandwich place. Placed lucratively in the market on Queen St. West lies a beautiful stainless steal kitchen. Behind the counter three men work furiously. One tends the salad bar, one the cash register, and the other the sandwiches. I love the sandwich man. He slices the bread with zest, places the ingredients on artfully, paints a squiggle of olive oil and adds graceful dash of salt before throwing the sandwich on the grill. The ingredients are all delicacies: eggplant, asiago cheese, basil spread, zucchini, chicken , bococcini and much much more. You have your choice of fresh bread, get a healthy serving of salad on the side, and pay around six dollars.
It's not that I'm pouncing around in Prada, I'm just tired of being cheap. I'm not going to alter my taste or my passions to save a buck or two. I'm not going to go into debt either, but you get the idea.
I think to myself "Simplicity. Simplicity. What do I really love?" It's time to take myself seriously.
I just can't possibly live well when it's possible to live wonderfully.
From the tip of my turned up nose to the curve of my snobby stomach, I want only the best.
I used to trudge around happily in my worn out skate shoes, eat at Mcdonalds every weekend, buy my entire wardrobe from discount stores, and sleep anywhere with a mattress.
But times have changed me.
I don't want to look cheap. The appeal of poorly sewn garments is quickly fading. Cheap clothing is like cheap sex, it just shouldn't be done. On the other hand, second hand stores hold many gems, from designer purses to great vintage dresses. I still need to remind myself to look past the price tag, and determine wether I really love it. And if the shoe don't fit, for god's sake I just shouldn't buy it.
The way I see it, I can buy a bin full of shirts I'll eventually grow sick of, or one I love. The choice is mine. When tempted by cheap prices, I conjure up an image of Anna Wintour, editor of Vogue, flawless in head to toe designer goods, and I'm out the door faster than you can say "Bitch!"
Now that your envisioning me in Gucci, why would I eat fast food? Why would anyone? And why should food be fast?! Even Subway seems less appealing after discovering THE sandwich place. Placed lucratively in the market on Queen St. West lies a beautiful stainless steal kitchen. Behind the counter three men work furiously. One tends the salad bar, one the cash register, and the other the sandwiches. I love the sandwich man. He slices the bread with zest, places the ingredients on artfully, paints a squiggle of olive oil and adds graceful dash of salt before throwing the sandwich on the grill. The ingredients are all delicacies: eggplant, asiago cheese, basil spread, zucchini, chicken , bococcini and much much more. You have your choice of fresh bread, get a healthy serving of salad on the side, and pay around six dollars.
It's not that I'm pouncing around in Prada, I'm just tired of being cheap. I'm not going to alter my taste or my passions to save a buck or two. I'm not going to go into debt either, but you get the idea.
I think to myself "Simplicity. Simplicity. What do I really love?" It's time to take myself seriously.
I just can't possibly live well when it's possible to live wonderfully.
posted by Gillian Young at 3:56 PM
5 Comments:
Hi! By coincidence, I usually buy my clothes "only in West Van" but today I found a neat blouse and tank top on Bowen Island of all places. I was glad to contribute to their economy.
Hope all is going well Gill.
Nita
I may walk arround in an outfit worth less than a footlong Subway sandwich, but I always look and feel like a millionaire.
That's all that matters baby.
love this. If you looked under snobbery in Websters you'd very likely see my photo...damn proud of it.
"I'm just tired of being cheap. "
Some people were born for being cheap; we can find it a problem if they want to that you down with them. Experience has told me there's no way we can explain them it's all wrong. If you didn't find that kind of obstacle... Lucky you.
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