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The Perils of South Jersey Boutiques

I kid you not - South Jersey boasts the kind of JAPtastic boutiques that rival the best of Soho. Like my fellow hometown JAPs, I once used the, “What, there’s no sales tax!” excuse to rationalize shopping at such places. My friend Sarah still does. When she mentioned she’d hit Knit Wit - probs the most awesomely expensive boutique I’ve ever shopped - she did so with a wicked smirk on her face.

Sarah donned her purchases for drinks Saturday night. To anyone with an undiscerning eye, she was wearing jeans and a white t-shirt. But my razor-sharp JAPdar went on label-alert; she looked too good to have not spent a bundle on her outfit. The jeans were, unsurprisingly, J Brand and - after seeing them in person - I can’t blame Sarah for staying true to her denim snob instincts. They are that fabulous.

When I inquired after the tee and Sarah pretended not to hear me, I knew something was up. I asked again.

-Sarah, is the tee Knit Wit too?
-I can’t even talk about it.
-Why? Did you seriously spend $60 on a white t-shirt?
-Worse. You’re going to kill me.

Sarah’s been reading my blog long enough to know my feelings on overpriced t-shirts. As it turns out, she spent $97 on a t-shirt that’s remarkably similar to one I already own. Oh, except mine was $9.80 from Forever 21. Even so, Sarah’s guilt was more palpable than usual and I couldn’t figure out why…until she showed me the ripped seam of her day-old shirt. I’ve recently received some comments that claim cheap clothing lacks quality. This is only true if you can’t discern between cotton and polyester, in which case, get the eff off my site. Yes, inexpensive clothing isn’t always well-made, but guess what? Ninety-seven dollar t-shirts rip too. Clothes that are both well-priced and well-made aren’t a pipe dream; they’re everywhere, provided you know how to look. If you’d like a personal shopping session, email me - my fee is a pack of Camel Lights and two cans of Sugar-Free Red Bull, and I’m only half as bitchy in person

At my obvious distress over the t-shirt situation, Sarah went from kind of annoyed to really effing pissed.
You know what? I’m taking this ripped, stupit (Sarah drops her d’s when she says words like stupid - it’s one of her best qualities) t-shirt back tomorrow, and I don’t give a shit if it reeks of booze and cigarettes. They can deal with it.
Maybe my JAPtastic friend has learnt her lesson. Not that I’d love her any less if she didn’t.