Target Couture Beats Forever 21 Couture

So Forever 21 (my current favorite cheap-clothes addiction) finally launched it's much-hyped Twelve By Twelve "demi-couture" collection today. These are my picks:

So these are cute, but man. All in all, it's pretty boring. Hype was not lived up to. Why?
a.) I know this is fall/winter, but where's the fucking color? Eggplant is not enough!
b.) 32" shoulder to hem? And you're calling that a dress? Am I a midget? If you know me, you're aware that I'm no stranger to the butt-grazing realm of retro styling. But if you're trying to show us sophisticated, and charging more for it, then at least make something we can wear to a workplace somewhere other than "the corner."
c.) Some pieces are a little too "runway/outer space." (see below)

The bubble dress looks like you're pregnant with alien spawn that will drop out of your ass, the skirt is something your grandmother would wear if she was a whore, the coat looks like a Glad bag cinched with rubber bands, and the last dress looks literally stolen from wardrobe on the set of Star Trek: Voyager. Not impressed F21!
Target's Proenza Schouler and Patrick Robinson collections may have sucked, but Libertine and Alice Temperley are two hits in a row. They seem to have the edge on this label for the time being.


Let There Be Dimmer Switches

Light can be terribly unfair. Every morning I spend a bunch of time (okay 5 minutes) getting all fresh and pretty in the mirror and no matter what effort I put in, how meticulously I apply my concealer, by the time I walk into the flourescent puke light of the bathroom at work I want to dive face first into a Botox needle and shake down the nearest Avon sales lady for everything she's got.
Similarly, certain store dressing rooms seem to have been designed by sadistic fags who like to send women screaming from their own reflections by either top or side lighting.
Top lighting casts shadows down, making noses look longer, accentuating lopsided boobage (all women are, and we will be until the day you can Photoshop reality), and turning tiny paunches into virtual pregnancies.
Side lighting, it's equally-evil friend, highlights texture. Texture on ass = cellulite.
Oh I know, "Pix you're so thin." Shut up. No one no matter how bird-boned and anorexic, no girl is spared her spoonful of "cottage cheese." Not even supermodels. Google the terms "Karolina Kurkova" and "cellulite," why don't you? You'll see what I mean.
Two noted offenders in the world of retail? H&M and, I hear, Victoria's Secret.
Just this summer I tried on a bikini in an H&M dressing room. I won't describe what I saw in the mirror, but let's just say I threw the bikini at the attendant's face as I stormed out.
Unfortunately for her face, I bet I wasn't the only one.
(Note: Special thanks to "she who shall remain anonymous" whose wedgied ass I photographed in college as an art project. And the top photo is me in bed circa fall 1999.)