Clothing makes authors uncomfortable. Most every novel I’ve read that takes place in part at a shopping mall describes the experience with an air of snooty derision. Likewise, I can’t think of a fictional discussion about the importance of fashion that wasn’t tinged with some sort of irony. Maybe it’s a fear of being confused with writing ad copy that keeps writers from using their full imaginative powers to examine the buying and owning and wearing of goods, or maybe it’s anxiety over a lack of sartorial style. But they should, with all due respect, get over themselves and get to work.
At first, Sarah Lazarovic’s confessions in A Bunch of Pretty Things I Did Not Buy, a heavily illustrated little manifesto about how to become a better shopper, feel almost pornographic. She’s discussing her life in shopping without a shrug of apology. Sometimes, she even seems to… enjoy it. In college, Lazarovic bought unwisely and so learned about the value of quality…