It’s Time to Grow Up, Wifey Wife


This past Sunday, I went to church at my house of worship, St. Target of the Sacred Bullseye. Target IS church for me, much to the dismay of my parents, who sent me to 13 years of Catholic school. But the status of my soul according to my mother is a discussion for another time.

Target is like church to me because it’s soothing, peaceful, and lets me put my faith in simple things like Isaac Mizrahi’s dinner plate designs. I don’t know about you, but clutching some cheap, cute little pop culture pop tart like a Swell nightie or a Proenza Schouler tank makes me feel closer to God’s perfection.