dear pleather leggings,
do you see my face in this picture? i look confused. kind of happy, but kind of not. and it's totally your fault. i've seen you on the likes of kate moss (ok, she was wearing your wealthier, better looking cousin) and you looked so fine. so i tried to channel her and picked up a pair of you. but instead of looking all slinky and rocker and cool and kate-moss-ish, i look like a weirdo who got dressed in the dark (and ate kate moss). i have only you to blame. because obviously this wasn't a weird fashion identity crisis on my part. it was you, luring me into rockerville with your rubbery promises of sexy goodness. but like a bad boyfriend who feels oh so right, i know you're not. you're going back where you came from! and i hope some skinny minny rocker girl scoops you up right away, and i hope you don't bunch at her knees and crotch in quite the same awkward way. because i believe in you pleather, i have seen how great you can be.
love, sarah yates