I have a dirty secret. And no, it’s not that I get wildly turned on whenever I watch old episodes of Friends. Everyone knows that about me. I love Matthew Perry and I’ll never apologize for it. Before I say anything, you need to stop for a second and remember that I’m coming clean right now, so just let me have my moment: I’m secretly addicted to buying jeans from an outlet store.
Yes. I said I’m buying jeans. As in denim. From an outlet store. In downtown Los Angeles.
Once a month, I put on a wig, a massive cape, and a huge pair of sunnies, and I drive my maid’s car to East Washington Street in the middle of nowhere to peruse what can only be described as denim mecca. This isn’t just any old outlet store next to the railroad tracks and a Church’s Chicken, it’s the J Brand Factory Outlet.
Inside this brokedown palace lies a selection of every kind of cut of every kind of jean you could possibly wish to wear. And, unlike actual outlets where everything is out of season, scary, and the people are too real, the J Brand Factory Outlet sells current styles for basically 50% off. I’m not above a good deal. We’re in a recession–hello. If I’m going to be spending upwards of five figures a month on my denim habit, I at least want to know I’ll be taking home double the amount of jeans.
As an added bonus, the staff consists of only 20-something boys, and all they do is follow you around and tell you how amazing your ass looks. It sounds too good to be true, but it’s not. When I’m in the darkest of dark places, I’ll come here and try on jeans just for the compliments and leave empty-handed. It’s honestly more uplifting at times than going for an emergency session with my therapist, that cunt. Totally kidding Susan, big kiss!
On one level, I’m so ashamed, but on another more real and peaceful level, I’m just glad that I can be honest about my habit. Tell Barneys I’m sorry, and that this type of confession won’t happen again. Namaste.