I am writing to you in the vain hope that you will cease taunting me with your sartorial prowess. You have been assaulting my senses with a relentless procession of uber-cool, super-slick and mega-chic designers, thus causing me to write in double-barreled adjectives. I have been experiencing traumatic eye-strain squinting over edgy patterns, minimalist lines and quirky functionalism. I have been gasping out loud at the accessible price range of many designers, causing much tut-tutting from my co-workers. Perhaps the most odious, offensive part of my Scandinavian experience to date is the indignity of the No-Delivery-To-Ireland. Can you please explain? Is it because of the recession? Is is because of the unequivocal ugliness of our politicians? Is it because the Spire on O’Connell street has been stealing potential tourists away from the Little Mermaid? Please explain why you have taken this vendetta against me. I understand that the rapid success of the Acne label means that us potato-loving degenerates are now able to access the covetable jeans and clean designs from the UK (with cap in hand), but what of the up-and-coming designers? Am I not allowed to play with Ulrika SandStrom? Can I not experience the the Munthe plus Simonsen fun and frivolity? Can I not dance in the Friis and Company shoes, can I not swirl the Nina Jarebrink bag over my shoulder? Please desist broadcasting your wares over the internet if we cannot be part of the gang. It is deeply saddening for our burgeoning fashion class. If you reconsider the situation I am willing to immediately partake in the buying frenzy and will pledge my allegiance forever.
(A bereft and confused) Jennie