Return of the Gymboree
In a fit of I don't know what, spurred on by a SALE! email from the marketing wizards at Gymboree, I shopped their online sale a few days ago. Take a ridiculous price, put a line through it, put a more moderate price in red and I'm all WHOA, THIS is a GOOD SALE! Never mind that the sale prices are still more than I would pay NOT on sale, say, at Target.
They had some sort of electronic voodoo going on, perhaps some sort of mind altering code flashing behind their logo, because I felt compelled to buy matching outfits for both my girls and me. Mommy-daughter dressing. (You can't see me right now, but I'm miming gagging myself with my finger)
If this wasn't proof of Gymboree's strength in the Force, they are not only matching outfits, but ZEBRA PRINTED. Black cardigans with
zebra collars, paired with zebra print dresses for the girls, and a knee-length zebra striped skirt for me. It really seemed like a good idea.
Then the box arrived. I laid out the girls' outfits on my bed, and reached into the box for my skirt. Have you ever bought the wrong size in packaged underware? I know, most of you buy lovely panties by the piece. What I'm talking about here is when you rip open a package of 3 to a pack squishy cotton undies and when you unfold them, they are the size of the main sail on a clipper ship. You think, "Hmm, are
these the wrong size?"
Same thing with this skirt. I spread it on the bed, and I'm certain it took over half the mattress. I held it up to me and no, it was
actually the RIGHT size. Apparently, zebras are actually tiny, but the stripes make them appear large and fearsome. This was such a bad idea. Matchy-match, and enlarging? No. Not for me. So I'm off to Gymboree to take advantage of their in-store return policy.
Because I love to go to the mall with my children.