A password will be e-mailed to you.

There are currently a lot of people who are devastated by the Lilly Pulitzer sell-out at Target. I mean this two ways: 1. there are people who are devastated that Lilly Pulitzer’s collection for Target sold out within minutes of becoming available to the public yesterday, and 2. there are people who are devastated that Lilly Pulitzer was available at Target in the first place, even if just for a few minutes.

Some of you may be going, “Lilly Whatitzer?” If this is you, give yourself a giant pat on the back for having avoided all things WASPy up until this point of your life, and then probably go have a good little cry, because you have likely never been (and will likely never be) invited to spend a weekend on Martha’s Vineyard, at the Hamptons, or wherever else it is that affluent white people who use the word “summer” as a verb enjoy hanging out during the warmer months. But I’m not here to talk about the meaning of Lilly Pulitzer to those of you who aren’t already familiar. Instead, I am here to teach people about the meaninglessness of Lilly Pulitzer, because as a survivor, I am qualified to do so.

10170729_797462172536_9135561608754262229_n(Virginia Gold Cup, 2006)

Up until about nine years ago, I was a seersucker sporting, collar popping, pearl earring wearing full-blown-prepster-preaching sonofabitch. I would rather not think about the amount of money I spent on patterned dresses that looked like what would happen if a palm tree projectile vomited an entire river of rosé onto a blank canvas, because (considering the frequency with which I wore them), it would be enough to put my current rent situation to shame. But as time went on and I slowly started to realize that life is not all frat parties and polo matches (and there are a lot more interesting things to wear // spend time on), I began to retire the oxford shirts, the pink and green skirts, and all of the monogrammed items I owned. (Apart from things like towels and glassware, which are generally confined to the home and are therefore acceptable.) The nightmare was finally coming to a close, you guys!

Now, you may be rolling your eyes, because my current wardrobe did a total 180 // I basically only wear black these days, and (despite recent and mildly alarming urges to begin reintroducing pastels to the clothing menu) I would likely never be caught dead wearing full-on resort wear. BUT I’m not saying you should start dressing like me, or even that you should stop dressing classically preppy or put away the pink and green! My point is that you have to acknowledge the following on the road to #LillyforTarget healing: 1. if you were upset by your inability to get your talons on the (slightly) more affordable Lilly items in the Lilly for Target collection, you should probably not be spending your funds on these things in the first place (seriously, get more bang for your buck elsewhere), and 2. if you are upset by Lilly’s dilution by way of the (slightly) more mainstream Target backdrop, you should probably be spending your funds on better brands in the first place, because you seem to have the finances and innate sense of superiority that would allow you to do so fairly easily.

Bottom line: no matter which side of the feelings-y fence you’re on, it’s time for Lilly Pulitzer to go the way of the UGG boot, to be worn solely out of necessity (like, a Kentucky Derby party or a particularly preppy pool party), and NOT to be relied upon for summer or (in the case of Florida residents) year-round wardrobe go-to’s. Because to put it simply, Lilly Pulitzer is a very basic cult, and if you can gradually tiptoe out of it, I can assure you: IT GETS BETTER.