Table of Contents
OTHER TITLES BY New York Times BESTSELLING AUTHOR JEN LANCASTER
Bitter Is the New Black
Bright Lights, Big Ass
Such a Pretty Fat
For the readers, booksellers, and librariansyou make it all possible!
AUTHORS NOTE
Some characters have been combined for storytelling purposes. In addition, other names and identifying characteristics have been changed for privacy reasons.
The soul of this man is in his clothes.
WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE
Clothes make the man. Naked people have little or no influence on society.
MARK TWAIN
It has always been the prerogative of children and half-wits
to point out that the emperor has no clothes.
But the half-wit remains a half-wit, and
the emperor remains an emperor.
NEIL GAIMAN
November 6, 1974
Dear Mattei,
Your Bella Dancerella Barbie is junk!
Just today the head fell off her. Yesterday, her body fell apart. I do not have any of the pieces to send you because they are junk now.
May be you should send me a
another one immediately before I tell all my friends what shoddy products you manufacture.
Your friend,
Jennifer Lancaster
P.S. My dawn dolls fell apart in the tub when I tried to take them swimming. Please send two Dancerella Barbies to make up for this tragic loss.
October 1, 1976
Hi, Mrs. Cummings,
You dont know me but I am my brother Todds sister. My mom says Todd is failing your Spanish class. She yelled at him a bunch for getting an F on the test and he was mad. He kept saying no bueno.
My mom is probably too emotional about Todds grades to discuss the situation rationally, so you should probably work through me. I am enclosing a blank piece of paper so you can give me a progress report on Todd.
Okay, thank you,
Jennifer Lancaster
P.S. Hola!
P.P.S. Look at me! Im already bi-lingual!
December 12, 1980
Hello, Brooke Shields!
Im a big fan even though Im not allowed to see The Blue Lagoon. Plus youre from New Jersey and I used to live in New Jersey and we have the same eyebrows, so its like were already kindred spirits.
Anyway, I saw your commercial and I like the Calvin Klein jeans you advertise. I figure you probably have some extra since Mr. Klein likely gave them to you for free.
Youre in luck - I happen to need some Calvin Klein jeans and no one will buy them for me so why not solve both our problems and send me some? Seriously, no one in this stupid cow town has Calvins and Id be the first if you sent me some and Im pretty sure that would catapult me to instant celebrity.
Your friend,
Jennifer Lancaster
P.S. My auntie says your ads are kitty porn, but that makes no sense because youre totally wearing pants!
Also? There are no cats!
February 14, 1981
Brooke,
I am not saying dear because you are not dear to me. I ask you for extra pants and you send me back a frigging postcard?
You are NOT COOL.
And I totally pluck my eyebrows now. You should, too.
NOT your friend,
Jennifer Lancaster
P.S. All is forgiven if the pants are in the mail.
January 28, 1984
Principal Stern,
Im sorry you had to take time out of your busy day of principal-ing to deal with such a trivial matter.
Honestly, I have no idea how or why Justine Moore got the idea that I hated her and that I specifically carried nail scissors around to simulate snip-snip sounds whenever I was behind her in the hallway. And I couldnt begin to tell you who started the rumor about people wanting to hack off a chunk of her ridiculous red hair to punish her for being such a bit, well, you know, female dog.
These allegations against me are hurtful and untrue even though she TOTALLY tried to get with my date by grinding on him when I hit the bathroom at the last school dance. As you can see, shed have it coming if someone were to give her an unexpected haircut, but it wouldnt be me.
Your student,
Jeni Lancaster
P.S. She has NO proof.
December 15, 2008
Dear Self,
Someday in a fit of nostalgia, or perhaps after matching Gross pointe Blank again, you will be tempted to attend a high school reunion.
Before you load up the CD player with eighties tunes and create a triptych, please read this book and refamiliarize yourself with all the smack you talked about your classmates and hometown.
And then take yourself on a spa weekend instead so you dont accidentally, you know, get lynched.
You cant go home again.
At least not after mocking the prom quenn.
Best,
Jen
Prologue
When I was a kid, my mothers mantra was You are what you eat.
Considering that I broke the long silence from birth until my thirteenth month of life by uttering the word cookie, it was safe to say even then that it would not become mine. I knew I wasnt a bruised banana pulled from her handbag while waiting on line at the post office, nor was I an unsweetened bowl of Cheerios topped with wheat germ from the foul-smelling hippie health food store. Sure, Id have happily been a Hershey bar [With almonds.] or a bowl of mouth-shredding Crunch Berries, but a poorly boned bowl of homemade chicken soup or a salt-free lentil casserole? No.
Right about the time I was able to cut my own meat and make my own sartorial choices, my Auntie Fanny gave me some of my cousin Stephanies old clothes. I was instantly enamored; there were colors and styles Id never seen before. [Possibly because they were circa 1966.]
Instead of the ducky-and-moo-cow tops my mother bought or made by hand, I took first grade by storm in Stephs old purple suede fringe vests and rainbow-striped corduroy bell-bottoms and peace symbol T-shirts. I mean, why would I dress like a baby when I could look like an extra from Sonny and Cher Show reruns?
I may not have been able to tie my shoes or spell my last name, but I knew one thing for sureI was not what I ate.
I was what I wore.
You never can tell when nostalgia might strike. For many people, its triggered by a long-forgotten scent, say, the nose on a glass of wine that evokes the aroma of ripe grapes hanging from the arbor in their great-grandmothers backyard. For others, memories come flooding in when a fancy small-plates restaurant conjures up an ironic bread pudding that happens to taste just like the one Mrs. Maguire brought to that block party the day Nixon resigned. For some, its a snippet of a song: Three bars from Totos Africa broadcast from a passing car and theyre no longer swinging a Halliburton briefcase down Michigan Avenue to get to a branding meeting. Instead, theyre huddled in their high school commons at lunch, cramming for a fifth-period chemistry test.
