In the spirit of "Black Friday"--the day after Thanksgiving named because it's a cash-cow for store owners (in the black vs. in the red)-- I've been imaginary shopping with my imaginary cash and the real catalogs that clutter our mailbox.
The Chicklet thinks of these catalogs as storybooks...so much so that for an entire month when J. Crew was doing its fancy theme catalog in Morocco I amused the Chicklet with a story about a blond girl who goes to Morocco by herself and then meets up with her friends for coffee, goes to the market, saves a camel and then sits in a tent in the desert sands waiting for her plane to pick her up. Naturally she also insisted on dialog. It was like I was forced to write "The English Patient" just in order to see what J. Crew's summer line was.
It was worth it though. I like living vicariously through the J. Crew catalog. I get a special kick from the color options on the Ts and knits: citron, cerise, bright berry, light blade, spearmint, peacock. Doesn't it make you want to dance around or eat something?
Chicklet loves the colors too. She's at the age where she's so over the basic blue, yellow, red. She distinguishes light blue, dark blue, silver, cream, gray. She delights in the gradation of color. Her favorite question these days is "what kind of brown are you?" followed by "what kind of brown am I?"
One day when she was on her color binge, she started pointing to things in the house and identifying their color: gray, green, dark blue. Then she turned to the puff jacket I was wearing and gave me the look, the look she lays on me when she's about to deliver a verbal gem.
"Brown poo," she said. And I looked at my jacket because it is the exact shade of the brown poo she is always so interested in checking out, in her Pamper and in her potty.
"Brown poo," I said in agreement...though I doubt J.Crew will be using that one as a swatch option any time soon.
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