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Pauline Wolstencroft
Anorexic OutfittersOne day, in the fall of 1995, I decided it was time to do something about Urban Outfitters. I was sick of hearing my friends complain about getting paid slave wages in exchange for discounts on crappy clothes and the privilege of listening to indie rock at top volume all day. I was especially disgusted by their stories of girls trying on baby-doll dresses and begging their boyfriends to tell them they didn't look like chubsters; or about the occasional overweight girl brave enough to pick through the techno-enhanced labyrinth of skinny-girl clothes, in order to squeeze into something that made her look like an overgrown baby. Worst of all, I was horrified by the fact that so many people my age were buying into U.O.'s brand of mass-produced pseudo-nostalgia: more...
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