my love/hate relationship.

The Gap is retarded.
I know this because I shop there all the fucking time.

For as long as I can remember they have been the number one source for my basic, All-American fashion needs. Jeans! Shirts! Sweaters! Coats! Flip Flops! Tank Tops! Scarves! MUST HAVES!

And especially lately, I've grown to loath their lack of variety, their acne-enhancing dressing room lighting, and their inconsistent sizing.

But every holiday season, soft, brightly colored and/or stripey things appear in the display windows and I'm drawn like a moth to a flame. No matter how hard I try, no matter how identical current stripey merchandise is to the stripey merchandise of Christmas 1999, I consistently "fall into the Gap" again and again. Year after year. Discounted stocking cap after discounted stocking cap.

I thought I would be able to resist this time. After all, I live in a major metropolitan city now! I have more to choose from than just the vendors of South Point Pavilions and Westfield Shoppingtown Gateway! Plus, most of my friends' wardrobes are compiled of treasures they found in "free" boxes on the side of the road. Portland chic. My fashion consumption standards are shifting.

But dammit if those marketing gurus don't know their shit. Emotionally manipulative bastards! They cut me to core this time. How do they do that? HOW?!

Walking through the mall after lunch to avoid the rain, two twelve foot posters came into my line of vision. I came closer. The images towered over me. I'm pretty sure I started ovulating right then and there.

Before me stood the unbearable cuteness of my all-time favorite celebrity couple. My comedic heroes. The perfect pair prototype. Next to them stood my current celebrity fantasy cuddle partner. All of them fresh-faced. Smiling coyly. Hawking soft, brightly colored, stripey things.

I mean, Jesus Christ. I get excited when any of these folks so much as appear in an inset photo on the 92nd page of an obscure magazine. And here they were, towering over the patrons of the Pioneer Place Mall as they shuffled off the escalators. How could you not be in love with them all?

How could you not want to meet up with these two downtown for a few whiskey sours? How could you not be excited about seeing them at the after hours gathering, dancing to Christmas In Hollis, popping rum balls and throwing back tall boys?

How could you not want to take this young gentleman to your best friend's ugly Christmas sweater party? How could you not want to stick your cold, wind-chapped cheeks into the welcoming warmth of his pea coat panel embrace? How could you not want to do things with him under the mistletoe for 12 hours or so?

How could you not want to buy the scarves and sweaters these people endorse?