Want to hear a little story? I think you do.
Once upon a time there was a girl named Ivat. And she ordered a book on Amazon. Oh, and she was very pretty and BFFs with Sofia Coppola and was very pretty and owned lots and lots of dalmatian mice.
So Ivat, who was also very cool, and humble, ordered a book from Amazon dot com. It was called Juergen Teller for Marc Jacobs 1998-2009. And she wanted it because Juergen is of her top 3 favorite photographers ever-him, Nick Knight, and Tim Walker. Maybe Juergen is even in the Top 2, but I, the neutral ominous storyteller, won't say who then gets the boot.
Oh, and because Marc Jacobs is one of her favorite designers, and the ads are always sick, and she has them taped to her school folders and made a little booklet of them. She also tore out every Juergen editorial he did for W in 2007 and 2008 and stapled them together, too. And even has a couple of his pictures on her wall.
It was the month of August when Ivat decided she would order the book. AH, THE DAYS OF SUMMER. They were filled with sights, smells and sounds that could be easily described using analogies commonly found in Kathy Bates movies, or movies about racial barriers crumbling down in the great name of football, or both! Words like "honey," "rooster," and "sweet summer day" intermingled with one another in the mind of Ivat, who enjoyed this month immensely. Times were simple, except for when she had to give a big long speech to her parents as to why The Book was worth 76 dollars that she would pay herself.
Luckily, her parents understood. Ivat happily and excitedly ordered the book, and it was only supposed to take 5-6 business days to arrive at her Juergen Teller for Marc Jacobs 1998-2009-less home.
Summer ended, and disaster struck: school! Ivat could no longer sleep in, or spend all day watching Ruth Gordon films, or have Ruth Gordon films on while she slept all day so as to test her theory on if it would do weird stuff to her unconscious brain and somehow make her more cool/suddenly a sunflower. Algebra equations and old scientists with beards and long names took over her day, but she hurriedly walked home every day in the hopes of finding a nice cardboard box with a thoughtful smiley-arrow printed on the sides.
The box never came, though. The pain was excruciating and Ivat grew worried. She took long walks on rainy nights, and wallowed in the sadness she could see in raindrops catching the light of a streetlamp. One night she came across a man sitting on a bench; an elderly fellow, wearing a suit.
"Hi," she said. "What's your name?"
"Norman," the man replied, looking away from Ivat and down the road.
"Are you waiting for a bus?"
"I hate to tell you this, but they cancelled this busline two years ago. There are no more buses on this street."
"You don't know what you're talking about."
Wait, wrong story.
Oh, but if I could continue that one for just a sec for fantasyland purposes-then Ivat was allowed to dye her hair and was also best friends with Scarlet Johansson.
ANYWAY, yes, Ivat would walk alone at night, agonizing over whether or not the book would make it. It had been far more than 5-6 business days.
A few weeks later, an email popped up in her inbox, saying the book would come in November. It was a shame it had to be so late, but she was happy to be receiving it at all.
Suddenly, it was December. Snow was on the ground, and Ivat's hands made the habit of stealing cookies whenever they found themselves in the kitchen. They were not, unfortunately, in the habit of flipping through glossy pages with photographs of the faces of Victoria Beckham and Winona Ryder being lightened up by the possesion of a beautiful man's designs and by another beautiful man's camera flash.
"It'll be there in January," another email said. Fine, fine, as long as it gets here, Ivat thought, sighing as she hung ornaments on a tree.
Eventually, it was January. The fifth, actually. And that morning, another email came:
"Due to a lack of availability from our suppliers, we will not be able to obtain the following item(s) from your order."
And then ALL HELL BROKE LOOSE. Why? Because after six months-definitely not SIX DAYS- the book didn't come. In half a year, Ivat could've found another copy, and would have been willing to pay full price for it from a Marc Jacobs store, too, despite her general cheapness/laziness. However, it took six months for Amazon to realize it had none left. And by the time the last email came, the email which shattered hopes, and dreams, and even killed a few people, the only copy one could buy online cost at least 350 dollars.
The fifth of January was already bad. Ivat spent 20 minutes lying in bed the night before, contemplating whether or not to get up and pee, and ended up falling asleep with her glasses on, and couldn't find them in the morning. And was blind the whole day. She also chewed an Advil as opposed to swallowing it, because she is used to the chewable Tylonel that tastes like orange (the chewed Advil tasted like bad pasta.) So that also made her day bad. And, perhaps worst of all, Ivat had that "Party in the USA" song stuck in her head THE WHOLE DAMN DAY. Yes, THAT song. Yes, the one Miley Cyrus pole-danced to at some awards show, and OH THE SCANDAL! because it is definitely a well-known fact that pop stars have always been reliable as role models.
But you know what is probably more of a scandal? THAT THE BOOK DIDN'T COME. AND THAT IT TOOK AMAZON HALF A YEAR TO REACH THAT CONCLUSION. I COULD HIKE TO THE REAL AMAZON IN THAT TIME.
We spoke to Ivat for this story and she told us she plans on spending her money she's getting back on lots of consolation chocolate and shoes. "I'm very disappointed," said Ivat, "my daughters look up to Miley Cyrus-oh wait, you mean about the book? Sonny, don't get me started."