Middle school me discovered my love for Forever 21 upon the realization that I would never fit into the clothes at the "cool" places like Hollister and Abercrombie & Fitch. Hollister was a dark and scary place with dark and scary prices (not mom-approved) and no matter how desperately I wanted to fit in and wear a skin tight t-shirt with the word "Hollister" scrawled across my underdeveloped chest, it wasn't an achievable reality.
What was an achievable reality for middle school me? The sales rack in the plus size section of none other than Forever 21. I was overwhelmed by the disheveled heaps and mounds of cheap fabric in the back corner of the store, but I was in love with the prices. The shirt didn't even have to be that cute. As soon as I saw that it was $7.99 it was a done deal. Did it matter that the earrings turned my earlobes green as long as I could get pack of ten pairs of studs for $4.99? Absolutely not. There are sacrifices that I am more than willing to make.
I get leggings there. I get dresses of all kinds there. I get my flirty tanks and my bikini tops and my headbands there. I even get that good $1.50 glitter gloss there. Sometimes I think about leaving Forever 21 in the past and moving on to bigger and "better" places. Perhaps somewhere a little..."classier?" But then again, where else can I purchase an outfit appropriate for a job interview and a t-shirt with rainbow popsicles on the nipples at the same time? What can I say? I'm a loyal customer.
The most dangerous part of shopping at Forever 21 is standing in line. The line that's decked out with cheap sparkly nail polish, makeup bags with pugs on them, and fuzzy lotion-infused socks. Do I ever need any of the stuff that's at the register? No, never. Do I end up with it somehow? Yes, every single time.
Now, one of the downsides to Forever 21 as a corporation is that they're pretty inconsistent. No two Forever 21 stores are alike. One might be a wide open color-coded wonderland while the next looks like a 10 year old girl's closet got food poisoning. Sometimes I go into a Forever 21 and the urge to start folding and sorting overtakes me, but I quickly remember that I'm not getting paid and I put the urge to rest.
Maybe I should grow out of making Forever 21 hauls and "mature" a little bit, play the role of "adult" a little more convincingly. I can't help loving how un-apologetically feminine and messy it is. Kind of like me.
