|And we're done here. Most Target stores looked liek this |
hours after the doors opened.
Like much of upwardly mobile middle class America with some knowledge of fashion, I saw the Missoni for Target commericals on TV and waited with eager anticipation for that slow boat to pull into the dock. And even though they offered guys a paltry selection of products to purchase (one grandpa sweater and a few ties? Bitch please.) I still dropped in my local Target to see if there was anything marvelous. It was as if it never happened! Displays were barren, the signs still hanging from the ceiling like a flag above a desolate battle ground. Not one stitch of Missoni left for anyone, anywhere. Not one dish, throw, or candle. What happen?, you may ask; well, I'll lay it on you.
|Screen shot from the National commerical.|
|Missoni for Target looks.|
|Really Target? Missoni at your disposal and you give men a Gramps sweater?|
The pieces sold at Target are barely worth what they retail for; it's all acrylic and rayon blends, nowhere near the quality of the real McCoy found at Saks or Neimans. Yes, I know the price point is way beyond that of Target, but with a name like Missoni, you're purchasing design, heritage, and above all, quality. A true Missoni will last a lifetime. Targets version will be pulled out of shape and unravelling before the month is through. It's the Missoni look at Target prices, but it will not become a cherished and envied heriloom like the real deal will.
|The bike, which would have forced me to think of actually|
riding it, though it would probably get stolen the first time
I left it locked outside Starbucks.