So, let’s discuss these pants. The color is cute, right? Right. They were a rdiculously good price, yes? Yes. But here’s the thing, I had to go into Aeropostale to get them. And, while Aero, as the kids call it, is not nearly as bad as some of its counterparts, (can you even walk by an Ambercrombie without gagging from the cologne stench and having to shield your eyes from pornography? Grossest.) darkening Aero’s surfer-polo-clad doors is just a glaring reminder that I am not 17. Or 18. Or even in my early 20’s. I don’t understand the music that is playing. A medium from their establishment fits me like an xx-small at the big-girl store. And, 95% of the people shopping there are doing so with their Moms (Although, that part makes me feel cool because I am big enough to buy my own clothes now and nobody tells me to do).
However, against all of my quarter-life-crisis insecurities I went in anyway, risking the chance of feeling like a wrinkled and uncool grown-up, and discovered these pants for 12.99 that I have a great affection for. And even though the girl who had to open the dressing room for me was born in the late 90’s and probably would never be able to pick out Zack Morris from a hunk line up, the whole ordeal made me feel like a treasure hunter who faced their greatest fear (feeling so very, very old), in order to claim her greatest reward (Yes. The pants. Maybe I need to strive for better rewards. But still. 12.99! And neon!)
So, I say, face your fears today! Go into that store that you tell yourself you don’t belong in and buy the cool pants! You can do it!
Or, just order them online. The music in those stores is just so loud.