listen up, hollister. because i have something to say.

because of you, i recently had an experience i thought i would never have. because of you, i questioned my devotion to the very thing which fulfills my soul. because of you, i doubted my love for shopping. i doubted my love for the mall. the mall, hollister. the mall.

let me explain.

you recently opened a store in the edmond mall, and i was pretty excited. determined not to repeat the tragedy of j crew, i strode though quail springs mall towards your new location with nothing but positive thoughts.

my first impression? one of your wanna-be fraternity guy high-schooler store greeters molesting a female manequin out front.

nice, hollister. classy.

nevertheless, i shot the teenage plastic-loving pervert a withering glance and stepped into the store with mother. two feet inside the entrance, and we slammed into the Giant Wall of Sound. now, i used to work at your other store abercrombie back in the day, and you have some pretty loud music in there too. and i like to rock out at completely insane decibal levels in my car, so i'm not one of those ultra-whiny people with sensitive ears. but seriously. take your bad punk music down about nineteen thousand notches. just because i can't hear myself talk or breathe or think isn't going to confuse me into buying lots of clothes.

five minutes of shouting between mom and i, and we went our separate ways. big mistake. with the low ceilings, small rooms, and lack of lighting, i immediately became disoriented. hollister, why is your store like a big scary cave? it took me four frantic cell phone calls to locate mom, and then i felt like grasping her hand and crying.

i tried on a couple of shirts in your frightening little dressing rooms. hollister, when you're going to put college and high school and junior high aged kids into co-ed dressing rooms, you need walls and doors with extremely secure locks. this little translucent curtain business you've got going is simply not cutting it. i only managed to try on a couple of tank tops. sampling your jean selection would involve me bringing my very own tarp and duck tape.

i suggest you make some changes. and i suggest you make some changes now. you ruin my shopping experience without a sincere apology, and i ruin you.

don't make me set my Attack Blonde on you. look at those teeth.

your friend i hate you,

kristin