"Where are the sevens?" I asked the sixty-something clerk who wore her glasses on a chain just like me.
"You're standing in 'em," she said.
Oh no, I thought, looking around. Oh no, no, no, no, no, no.
"There must be some mistake," I said. "These are, well, slutty-looking. I'm talking about clothes for a little girl in first grade."
"That's all we've got."
"But these look like things a hooker would wear!"
She smiled sadly. "You have no idea how many times I hear that every day.
Okay, breathe. This is just some weird marketing experiment. Right?
I went into my second-favorite department store and was invited to peruse the awfulness that is Tweenland! A better name would be Lil Skanks!
Sequins, fringe, neon glitter tank tops with big red lips on them, fishnet sleeves, scary dragon faces lunging from off-the-shoulder T-shirts. Whither the adorable seersucker? The pastel floral short sets? The soft cotton dresses in little-girl colors like lavender, pale pink, periwinkle blue? This stuff practically screamed SYRINGE SOLD SEPARATELY.















