Oh Apparel American,
I walk with chaste in your isles
Since when did being plain become so expensive?

What went out the window
And came in through the back door?
Since when has less became more?

Where did your cotton come from to price so high?
Was it picked by the hands of celebrities and anorexia nervosa models exemplified to be our "perfect woman"?
Spare me your inordinate calico fabrics, I don't want them

I regret walking into your store
I refuse to be associated with your name anymore
I put my hands in my pocket, shake my head and start for the door, hung in shame, eyes on the floor