Hoooww-Deeee!

My sartorial peeves are about to become rants.  If you're not ready for it, move to the back row [F*ck the back row! Yay Back Row!] and let someone else read it.

People, women mostly, who are so proudly brand conscious drive me up the wall.  One sees all these Coach bags with the C's on them, or the Tory Burch flats.  You know the ones.  Little ballet flats with a big brass circle on the toe with two T's top to top in the circle. 

A good 60% of my purses are Coach.  But here's my dirty little secret.  I despise conspicuous consumption so much that I never ever buy a Coach bag with the C's and the first thing I do even before the clerk has finished ringing up the sale is to remove the little leather or brass Coach-embossed tag from the strap.

But today's encounter topped them all.  While waiting to genuflect at the altar of the caffeine addicted, the sleeve of a woman's coat caught my eye.  There on the cuff of the left sleeve was the label -- Calvin Klein.  Seriously?  Did she just forget to cut it off?  Or does she think that it's supposed to be there?  Like those seams that hold jacket pockets together.  Or the stitch on the pleat of a skirt. 

For goodness sake, who is so proud of wearing So-and-So that they want to emblazon the designer's name all over themselves?  If you're going to advertise for the company, at least make them pay you for your service.  Stop and think.  If no one knew who designed or produced what you wear, would you still wear it?

Enough for now.  I better step off my soapbox before I launch into a diatribe about men wearing the wrong size suits. 

[Title taken from this.]