J.Crew is Fashion Porn

j crew model wearing orange top and pink beaded necklaceI want to live in the J. Crew catalogue. Seriously. Either that, or Anthropologie. Urban Outfitters is a close third. But J. Crew does it for me every time. Maybe it’s my nostalgia for an ‘80s childhood, but there’s something about the way they put together those skinny jeans with those cute little blazers that gets me all hot and bothered.

It’s like fashion porn: When the catalogue hits the doorstep, I swoop for it, hiding it under my arm and away from the prying eyes of my kids, and then stash it under the old New Yorkers in the bathroom.

I’m a walking dichotomy: A sustainability snob with a serious catalogue addiction.

Then I think about it. I think about it through dinner. And bubble baths. And story time. And song time. Basically, I think about my fashion porn delivery all the time until I can hit the tub.

Reading my beloved J. Crew catalogue in a tub full of synthetic-fragrance free bubbles, I fantasize about what my life would be like if I could pull off splattered denim boyfriend jeans with fifteen pounds of chains around my neck. My heart gets all fluttery and I start to sweat.

They have Sperry Topsiders right now. SPERRY TOPSIDERS. Like the kind Elier Byrd (yes, that was his real name) wore when we used to follow him around Portola Junior High School. (He had a pompadour like that guy from the Stray Cats. So. Hot.)

But these Sperry’s are silver. SILVER! They’ve also got little platform sandals that look like Cork-eeze. Silk t-shirts in colors like “spring daisy” and “cantaloupe.” And ballet flats that blush.

Yet despite the contented and—dare I say—satiated feeling that I feel when I turn the last page (dappled on the edges from bath water and slightly splattered with wine) I have yet to place a spring order with J. Crew.

Because forgive me if I sound like a broken record, but I just can’t justify a third of a pound of pesticide-laden fertilizer going into the cotton that made that slinky little t-shirt, no matter how alluring its rosettes may be.

The last pair of J. Crew shoes I received as a gift smelled so strongly of chemicals that I sent them back.

And although I can’t vouch for the origins of everything that I buy, I’m pretty sure that you can’t produce a $200 wedding gown without it being made somewhere where people get paid very little money for sticking pins in their fingers.

So, yes. I’m a walking dichotomy: A sustainability snob with a serious catalogue addiction. This practice keeps my credit card slightly rusty and my husband very happy.

But until J. Crew makes those topsiders out of vegan leather with recycled car tire soles, I’ll be sticking with the fashion porn fantasy, thank you very much.

Photo: J. Crew

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