So there's this British lady named Cath Kidston, see, and I've been in like with her every since I bought her book, Vintage Style, about a million years ago (okay, 9 years ago). Back then, she mentioned having some kind of small shop somewhere in the UK, so when I heard she was opening a shop in NY's own Noho a while back I practically creamed my jeans (full disclosure: i don't ever actually wear jeans). I dragged my bfriend's sorry ass to her overly precious polka-dotted, roses and blue chippy paint extravaganza of a shop when it did open (in 2005), and although he wanted to buy me something, all we could afford was a single pink-and-white polka dotted oven mitt, which hangs like decor in my kitchen to this day. That shit was expensive, and as a result I pretty much wrote Cath off my list of things I'd ever own.
That was then, but this is now. Although her shop has long closed and trying to buy things off her UK website
is even more cost-prohibitive than her Noho Store was, I recently discovered an internet-only US closeout store
of her stuff and went and binged on the shizzle, buying myself 3 precious flowery comforters (!), too many polka-dotted pillow cases in a variety of colors, a robe, giant towels (yes, also polka dotted—sorry haters) and some lacey stuff. In fact, I'm only telling you about the shop because I'm absolutely sure I've already bought everything I want from there (so now I don't care if it sells out).
But that's not the only Kidston loot that is now within my grasp—Chronicle books has published an entire "range" (as the Brit's say) of Cath goodies, from journals to stationary to notepads and recipe organizers and even, my favorite, a sewing kit.
Now that I've got this stuff in my posession (courtesy of Chronicle), I plan to dump it all into a bathtub and dive in, naked.
I'm afraid it's true: Cath Kidtson has me firmly by the balls. Bitch can make even doing the laundry seem like it would be fun. So Cath, I've got one question for you: let go, okay?
The evil Ms. Kidston