Anyone else get the Hanna Andersson ultra-Scandinavian clothing catalog?
Why, when I page through it every season, do I feel as if I'm shopping not for clothes, but for perfect little children? Every single one of them is so. damn. cute.
I also believe that if I could look like the red-haired mom on the back page of the holiday catalog, as well as have a kitchen like the one she's standing in, my life would be just about perfect. I would also settle for being the brunette on pages 2-6. I know, I'm shallow.
There's a movie for you: slovenly, dangerously casual academic awakes to find herself in a Hanna Andersson catalog. Actually, while fun for a day, I think that situation might turn out nightmarish pretty damn quickly. One can only live in striped pajamas, "carefree comfort cords," and colorful clogs for so long.