To Whom it May Concern (although I fear the problem springs from no one at all being concerned):

After being informed that a product I ordered was backordered and would not be shipped till sometime next year, I followed the directions in the first backorder notification (snail mail), which said to dial 1-800-SUCKY-CLOTHES to cancel my order. Then I replied to an e-mail to cancel the order, confirming that I would like to cancel, but received a reply that since an invoice had been created, my order could not be canceled. Since it has been further backordered and will not ship for quite some time (per the SECOND written snail mail notification I got today), I do not see why the order can't be cancelled. This is my third request to please CANCEL the order. The order # is ************.

If I receive the product in the mail, which I no longer need nor want, I will have to waste time and postage sending it back, and will promptly write a complaint to the Better Business Bureau regarding this consumer headache.

I have been shopping with stupidclothingcompany.com for about six years, and in this time have purchased thousands of dollars worth of merchandise. I have never been dissatistifed with customer service till this season. I will likely stop shopping online at junkyclothingwarehouse.com after this whole hassle is over and done with.

Sincerely yours,

Disgruntled_Cat

excess?

The henley I have in black, red, purple, white and toffee:

My entire cast of black sweaters:

Red t-shirts:

Red hoodie:

taking inventory

I have to expand the description of my problem. It is an extreme affinity for black sweaters. I love them. Also, I've decided it's no longer a problem. Some people smoke crack; I buy black sweaters. I'm sure every man out there who owns ONE basic jacket and ONE pair of black dress shoes wonders what the &^%# point of having TEN different black sweaters and as many pairs of black dress shoes is. I will tell you: The point is happiness. I can tell the difference between my black sweaters, and this is all that matters. While most serve the same purpose (cover up that skimpy top, eh?) each fits differently and some stand alone - such as #1 and #8 on the following list:

1. Button-down henley (half placket). VS.
2. Silk/cashmere cardigan (not as luxe as it sounds after just a couple of Dryel cycles - that's why I have two). VS.
3. Cinnamon Girl cardigan - stretchy, 3/4-sleeve exact replica of beloved college sweater I stupidly left in a bar one night
4. "Featherweight" henley/hoodie hybrid. VS.
5. Crop cardigan - because sometimes a tank top at work seems wrong. VS.
6. Ribbed kangaroo-pocket pullover. VS.
7. Cable-knit mock turtleneck (honestly this one's a little grandma). VS.
8. Sleeveless ribbed turtleneck. VS.
9. Crop 1-button cardigan (part of a twinset). VS.

Going through the closet I realize that while the bulk of my sweaters are black, I also own:

1. Two red sweaters - see #1 and #4 above, but in red. VS.
2. A toffee version of #1 above. VS.
3. A snow-white version of #1 above. VS.
4. A lingonberry (purple) version of #1 above. VS.
5. A shapeless and too-short ivory v-neck. VS.
6. A shapeless and too-short ivory crewneck. VS.
7. A hot pink version of #9 above (awful, absolutely).VS.
8. A purple version of #8 above - school spirit. VS.
9. A gray scoopneck (a gift). American Eagle Outfitters. Christmas '06.
10. A gray true turtleneck (had it since college). Banana Republic.
11. Maroon silk cardigan. Banana Republic. College staple.
12. Gray cardigan. Express, circa 1999.

There might be more. It's late.

i have the following problem:

an extreme affinity for the basic black cardigan.

Eep.

it's a horrible shoe anyway

L: BCBGirls perforated patent quarter-inch, $89
R: Jessica Simpson perforated patent flat, $69

makes me wish for a real rainy season

Chooka "Wellie": Koi

new bag detail

I LOVE this bag. It's big enough to smuggle papers to grade AND a crapload of candy into a boring meeting. And hella cute!

retiring the label whore

Just for a while.

Me: I am, against my own will, returning this bag.
Juicy man: Why?
Me: I bought it as a gift [for myself] and decided to get [myself] something else.
Juicy man: Would you like to look around the store?
Me: No. But she would. (Points to accomplice)

Actually, though, parting with the messenger was not all that painful. For one thing, October or not, it was just too pink. The black, on the other hand, was beautiful - I felt more pangs not exchanging it for the black than I did returning it. For another, it was just too expensive. I would rather that $300 be a drop in the Silent Truck Fund bucket than hanging from my shoulder. Lastly, it was a pain in the ass to hit myself in the face with the flap every time I needed to get my keys. G'bye.

I did not completely give up my workbag, btw. I found at Macys a cute $60 replacement that is durable, better-designed (for my needs), and island-made. Voila. Pic? I know I took one ...

bye, sniff.

I tried in vain to justify owning a $295 canvas bag: "It's big enough for my laptop." (I don't have a laptop.) "It's big enough to carry my work around in." (I try as hard as I can to never bring my work home.) "It's October pink." (Already grasping at straws.)



So ... adieu, beautiful Juicy messenger. Post my replacement photo as soon as Blogger stops sucking.

pink mood

Soon-to-be-blogged: My own damage on this trip, including side notes on faux and real diamond rings, photos and rationale for the new pink bag, and my fiance's reaction to my plaid headband. I've decided I love the word fiance, by the way.

shine

'Kay, am not (yet) in possession of the Bandolinos (and will likely restrain myself even though the $69 seems paltry in light of other foot-bound purchases) but had to remind myself of this somewhat similar shoe that I love and have worn exactly once:

Just as my classroom is a hybrid of playground and workplace, this is an off-beat Mary Jane-goes-to the-office kind of shoe. As mentioned, it's been taken to the "workplace" exactly once, because its weirdness was too much for the kids.

"Your shoes are so shiny."
"Thank you. Please turn to page 165."
"Are they supposed to be that shiny?"
"They just are. Page 165, please."
"They're reflective."
"I hadn't noticed. Turn to page 165 now."
"My mom has shiny shoes. She doesn't get home from work till really late."

That did it. No more shiny shoes in the classroom. So, still looking for an opportunity (or, preferably, several opportunities) to wear them. In the meantime, I just take them out periodically and smile at my reflection.

a whole new meaning to goody two shoes*

Who does not love Bandolino, a brand that can create a shoe with Plymouth Rock flair and still make me waaaaaaaant it? This is a shoe you can put on your feet.


*You know, The Crucible?