prep

Okay, y'all know I am sort of, well, waspy. I own a lot of seersucker, a longchamp or seven, and have probably referred to a vineyard vines pattern by name. When bored I doodle polka dots. The only cutesy handwriting I can do is when you write in print and then put dots on the intersections. My high school boyfriend's nickname for me was "bootsy." When the Lilly catalog comes I usually squeal. I CAN'T HELP IT. But this doesn't mean that I refer to the woman who gave birth to me as "Mother" at all times, nor do I think that a hot pink and lime green shift is appropriate for all occasions (unless your grandmother went by "Mitsy," then you should probably wear black to her funeral). I don't adhere to the young women in pearls, older women in diamond adage (strapless living loves her some bling) and under NO circumstances will you catch me in critter khakis (grown women with martini glasses on their chinos? fuck no).

Honestly, I'm the worst kind of prep. The kind that knows if your Lilly is last season, who will mentally categorize you as "new money," and whose grandmother referred to yours as a "racist bitch," because she wanted to keep the Jewish girl out of Delta Zeta. So, to all you girls out there rocking lime green lacostes and ostentatious monograms, I'm sorry. I will roll my eyes at you. I will tap my sperry's at you while in line at the peppermint palm because you're taking effing forever to pick a quilted tennis racket cover. But I promise I'm not trying to be mean, I swear. When not surrounded by cable knit ad nauseam I will be more than happy to listen to you talk about how much you LOVE picking out toile lampshades. I mean shit, if we have the same initials I'll even loan you my signet ring. But I'm on to you, fake preps, and your days of cardigans tied around shoulders are limited. We're in a recession now and no one wants to listen to you drone on about what a steal $200 d-ring belts are. So do the preppiest thing possible, and put a lid on it.

p.s. I'm sorry this post is full of so much rage, I SWEAR it is not directed at anyone's blog (especially not you preppy commenters). I just had a mini-seersucker-overdose this afternoon.