Sunday

Screw-Alliteration-Online-Shopping-Sunday

When people ask me, "Where did you get that?" four out of five times I give the short and simple answer, "Online." Then two out of five times the aforementioned person replies with, "Oh. What website?" to which I return oh-so slyly with, "Ebay," no matter if I did or not because then they can't buy the same stuff as me (oh my god yes i'm a selfish, diabolical genius bitch). But here, today, I'm going to tell you about a little store they call shopnastygal because j e s u s.


Look at the chiffon. The crosses. The Jeffrey Campbells. Oh, god, JC. That's my main interest in this shop, is that they seem to be the one stop shop for all things Jeffrey Campbell. Despite the fact the shoes are a universe away from my budget, it's always fun to look through and find your favorite pair that you'll eventually buy as soon as you magically become rich, but definitely not due to marrying into a monarchy because what kind of stupid person dreams that particular cliche anymore? ....No? ....Just me? ....Okay.

While the designer shoes are understandably overpriced (fashion-based oxymoron? at 10:30 pm? i'm so good), the clothing is debatable as far as not crossing that line goes, given the fact that they are really beautiful clothes. However, this is an up and coming shop which means that the more popular it gets the more expensive the prices get which, in turn, means that if you want it, buy it NOW. Of course this will be the leading argument my mom will be hearing from me in my attempt to purchase the chiffon skirt, paisley chiffon shirt, and chiffon leopard print leggings shown above. Wish me luck.


PS. shop nasty gal? How great of a name is that. It sounds like some cheesy, bad polyester-filled, teenager-run semi-store. I'm lucky I gave the title the benefit of the doubt, but now it's probably one of the most brilliant chosen shop names I've ever heard, in my own humble opinion, right next to Acne. (ugh, acne. i can't. too expensive. i can't.)

PPS. In case you were wondering, the fifth time I'm asked "Where did you get that?" I reply with the simple and assumingly pathetic truth, "My great-grandmother's closet."

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