Jezebel 
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New York, 2:09 AM
Fri Nov 27
3 posts in the last 24 hours
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10/27/09
Left-justified incomplete sentences do not equal poetry. They equal shitty pretentious ad copy.
(I am fighting a losing battle with this in pretty much every ad in the world.) #jpeterman
10/27/09
10/26/09
10/27/09
10/26/09
(off to request J. Peterman catalog) #jpeterman
10/26/09
The crazy thing is that I kinda like these clothes, at least the simpler ones. With all that pomp, they have nice lines and an attention to how an average woman's body actually looks, instead of a model's tiny perfect boy-body. I guess if you know where to look, if you buy high end you get quality.
There's like three items on each page, max. How much can they possibly be selling each quarter? Is this the kind of place where they don't show the clothes, you have to be a Special Person to get the real stock? #jpeterman
10/27/09
10/26/09
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10/26/09
I think tern-shoes would be beautiful with the tree dress on the front cover. #jpeterman
10/26/09
10/26/09
Oh, in the nineties I bought a beautiful blouse from J. Peterman with ginormous sleeves that looked just like Sarah's blouse in Labyrinth! I loved that shirt (though I never found the vest to go with it) and I'm sure it's still in my closet at my parents' house....
(I should mention that I strongly believed that wearing the shirt would bring me David Bowie in all his goblin-y kingness.)
10/26/09
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10/26/09
However, despite the fact that sometime in the 90's I actually purchased my brother a suede vest from the J. Peterman catalog and he did not return it, I have been dropped from their mailing list. #jpeterman
10/26/09
[www.petermanseye.com]
10/26/09
Every morning, he saw her.
He wasn't the kind of man who enjoyed mornings - in fact, he was known to rise just in time to watch the sun set behind Washington Square. But he saw her, accidentally, one morning when he was coming back from another all-night freestyle disco battle royale.
He set his alarm the next day, determined never to miss her again.
Since that morning, he waited. Just as he waited today.
Had any woman captivated him so thoroughly? Her voice, low and musical, directing the barrista to "Make that a fucking venti, dickwad," recalled the bassoons he heard playing in the Tuileries his junior year abroad.
And the morning came when she turned to him. And spoke. "What the hell are you looking at, douchenozzle?"
Every question had been answered.
Women's sweatpants.
Color: Gray
Size: Who's asking?
Price: Too fucking much. #jpeterman
10/26/09
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10/26/09
What I now find most amusing, nearly all these things seem like recycles from those very catalogs.
Where's the men's canvas duster coat? #jpeterman