Dear Madewell 1937,

Please, stop toying with my emotions. I am just a kid, for crying out loud. Why must you show me this extremely lovely lookbook of things I can't have or afford? Yes, I get it, you make the most insanely perfect boots ever. Your scarves are a thing of beauty, I know.

Stop being so darn effortlessly chic and cool like the J.Crew little sister that you are. You see that little smirk the model, above, is sporting? That smirk says "Yep, that's right. I get to WEAR these clothes and you, Gabby, cannot because you live in Someplace, Somewhere, where they do not have a Madewell 1937. I'm pretty sure sunshine is just about to radiate out of my tush any second now because I am just so darn happy to be wearing this perfect schoolboy blazer, not to mention get my picture taken with it. Now, excuse me while I go change into my expertly washed denim that you can't have."

You're launching an online shop soon, says the huge message when we enter your site. Until you get your act together, Madewell, I will scrimp and save my meager allowance for a trip to your nearest location. In which case, my monthly income of $0.57 will barely pay for me to back out of the driveway. Great, now I've wasted my valuable afternoon writing you this letter. I could have been digging through sofa cushions for coins or selling lemonade.

Sincerely,

Gabby

P.S. We could easily clear up all of this tension if you sent me a skinny patent belt in either red or yellow, or any color, for that matter. I'm not picky. Oh and if you threw in a pair of yellow ankle boots in a size 7.5, that would just be dandy.