mall rat

I don't like the mall. I don't like shopping, unless it is delivered in a neat little package to my front door. Shopping centers make my eyes itch and burn, they make me feel covered in germs and exhausted, they make me feel bad about myself and consumer culture. But sometimes a girl needs jeans, and then, hells. What you gonna do.

Somehow we ended up at Tysons on Sunday afternoon, more specifically wandering into this scene, which the more I think about it, the pissier I become. Martin + Osa is all clean light wood and wool sweaters; selling us suburbanites the idea of cross-country skiing and Danish nannies with braids.

I don't know if Martin + Osa are real people, but the chirpy salesgirl immediately assured us (we were the only ones in the store) that the store was bult around TWO ADVENTURERS NAMED MARTIN! AND OSA!

Full disclosure: I have worked retail. I felt for her. There was a pile of chunky scarves waiting for her, and something tells me those things are a total bitch to fold.

Martin + Osa staff would also like you to know there is some sort of John Mayer concert being held in their store during the grand opening. Martin + Osa want you to recycle yr clothes (errr. okay? Can you actually trademark the statement "Please dispose of your clothes properly?" Because it's trademarked. Which I find bizarre.) Martin + Osa love Angelique Kidjo and world music and adult contemporary, and their children only play with handcarved unpainted wooden horses from Sweden, and those bizarre Scandanavian candle-powered carosuel things. Martin + Osa regularly hire someone to oil their snowshoes.

Fine, whatever. Thanks for everything, Wintery Ab-Fitch for Adults. We shall be leaving the mall now.

But then- I start early Xmas shopping.

And then. And then. OH HOLY THEN.

Then I found the Martin + Osa website:

"Woman = Infuriates people who make 'to-do' lists"

"Woman = Understands what a man is saying, even when his lips aren't moving."

"Woman = Compliments him perfectly and compliments him often."

WHAT THE FEMINIST FUCK, MARTIN + OSA? I actually dig yr stripey sweater aesthetic, but I will never. Buy. Anything. From. You.

You, Martin + Osa, have potential to work your way up to Governess Consumer Level Red; (Level Red is mostly reserved for unholy rants on P. Buckley Moss, but I have room for more. It comes from a deep dark place in my soul. Man, I do NOT stand P. Buckley Moss.)

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Interestingly, Martin + Osa are very chirpy and forthcoming in letting you know that they are owned by American Eagle.