Monday, October 30, 2006

Birkin what?

Packrat hates the new season of Gilmore Girls. It's Gilmore 6 that we're watching now. There's a lot wrong with this season. The writing's off, there's too much angst, there're too many loopholes and then, there's the Birkin Bag.

I've read about it. For a second, in the deep, country hick recesses of my mind, I thought they were talking about Birkenstocks. Totally different and on a totally separate must have accessory meter. It didn't hit home until the last episode we watched, Welcome to the Doll House. Ok, it's not as spooky as it sounds, but there, Rory gets a Birkin from her super rich boyfriend and my recently dead fish-not interested in the world- eyes light the entire room up. Much to Packrat's chargrin and he goes on a rant about how he hates television shows because they're are nothing but a vehicle stupid must have trends that fuel themselves into such a frenzy that there is a 2 year long waiting period for such an item and there are stupid women out there who are stupid enough to wait that two years to spend all those dollar bills that could go toward feeding a mid sized 3rd world country.

Ok, now try saying all that in one breath and that's where my husband was.

For me, it was ..."Big orange paper bag...pretty... oooh, big orange box in bag...oooh...big orange bag in big orange box in big orange bag...must be good... OOOOH!!!! Pretty pink bag..Pretty!!!" Also known as incoherent postmodern cavegirl speak.

New thing to lust after even though the price tag on one of those babies would probably pay for ALL my credit card bills right now and then a down payment for a new car and a nice Banyan tree holiday and many more knick knacks that could fit into that one bag.

But then now, my television culture indulging, consumerist embracing, telemarketer's wet dream of a husband is hissing about how television is evil and how Sex and the City and any other show that promulgates any sort of fashion trend all decked out in their Birkins and Kate Spades, Manolo Blahniks and Jimmy Choos ought to be lynched and hung out to dry.

So, I'm just going to keep quiet and not rave anymore.

But on an extremely disturbing note, this is now on sale and this is where I will draw the line. My children will learn their nursery rhymes the old fashion racist, sexist way.

Now, can book burnings ever be seen as acceptable?

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Ondine tossed this thought in at 23:56

2 thoughts...

2 thoughts...

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At 4:35 pm Blogger desiremall said...

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