MegaStyles

You must be really surprised to hear from me. I know it’s been a while. But since I ran into you yesterday at the mall, I can’t stop thinking about you. I had to write because I can’t keep this inside any longer.

We’ve had some real up and downs over the years. But let’s be real--lately it’s been more of the latter. I try to remind myself of the days when I would have blown all my Christmas money on you. I remember, in seventh grade, when Emily Jones’s senile aunt gave her $500 to spend on you. I was so jealous. How I coveted her tapered jeans and hunter green T-shirts with a variety of necklines. Scoop neck. V-neck. Henley button-down. I longed for the days when I too, would have $500 all at once, and how I would deliberate between the different faded and rinsed jeans before buying them all, spending the leftovers on those knit vests and tartan pants you were carrying in those days.

But I was young. And people change. You changed. I thought I could always count on you when I needed a plain black T-shirt. I thought you would always have the right crewneck sweater and matching scarf. J.Crew might be temperamental, French Connection ungracious with its sizing, but you would always be “for every generation.”

But soon I hardly recognized you. I was fine with the khaki swing commercials. I didn’t even really mind when you started copying your trashy whore of a sister, Old Navy. But when you started copping an attitude, with the DJ commercials and the bad leather pants and the profusion of brown clothing like you were some ‘70’s modster, I was at a loss. What were you thinking? How could you? And why was everything cream and brown? I was so confused.

That’s when I started noticing the other flaws, things I might have let slip otherwise. Suddenly the T-shirts didn’t fit quite as well as they used to. The cotton sweaters started stiffening in the wash. The reds were too red, the greens were too green. Even your ribbed socks looked odd. You tried to hide it with the fancy store makeovers and the new ad campaigns with Lauren Hutton and that girl from 8 Mile, promising you were going back to the basics. You even hired a new CEO who was sure to put you back in the right direction. “Returning to core values,” said The New York Times. “Going back to its roots,” proclaimed The Wall Street Journal. But I’m not a brace-faced seventh grader anymore, Gap. I won’t be lead down this path one more time. I’ve found others, so many others, that can cut a white T-shirt better, that soften their cottons to the point of obsession. I could name names (Banana Republic, Juicy Couture, James Perse), but that would be cruel. And I think we’ve both suffered enough.

So good-bye, Gap. I’m afraid you won’t be seeing me around anymore. I hope you’re having fun with this new batch of middle schoolers, raised on Christina Aguilera and glitter body lotion. I know I speak for the other demographic groups—the 18-34’s, the 35-49’s—when I say I’m disappointed. But what’s done is done, and we both have to move on. I wish you all the best, and maybe someday we’ll meet again under a more fortunate retail climate.

MegaStyles

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MegaStyles™ musings: Linda Wells HAS been reading MegaStyles™! For a follow-up on “The Road to Graceland,” pick up a copy of the June Allure today.