Dear Urban Outfitters,
There are a million reasons why I want to work for you, but for the most part I want to work for you because I spend so much time in your store I may as well get paid to do it. The last time I applied to Urban Outfitters I was 18 and much hotter than I am now (think of all the lost potential profits I could have made you!) and I hand-filled out an application with all these pointless questions ("who is your style icon?" as if an 18 year old with $85 in her checking account really puts a lot of time into picking out her ideal "style icon.") Sadly, I never heard back, which hurt in a "seventh-grade-crush-doesn't-like-you-back" kinda way, which in all honesty makes sense because I was in fifth grade when my mom bought me my first piece of clothing from you (my mom calls you the "shmata-store" which is yiddish for "little piece of cotton" or something like that) which I then wore to shreds. The first piece of clothing I ever bought on my own was from you, too, it was a white dress with little red and blue sailboats and it was $30 and my mom went hysterical because I "spent thirty dollars on a wearable napkin" but I didn't care. I loved it, and damnit Urban, I love you.
Maybe it's your crude, border-pushing merchandise like your vaugely offensive 2 for $12 mugs, your endless supply of crop tops I can never wear, or your always affordable skinny jeans that hide my muffin top, but for some reason I have not been able to quit you, Urban. I have been a loyal, ever-spending fashion addict to your store and I'm pretty sure I've bought you enough clothes from you that, had I not, I would have been able to mortgage a house by now. I've done you a solid, Urban, and I think it's time you do one for me, too.
I can fold clothes, I can dress mannequins, and you bet I can pull off the "20-something millenial trying to find herself in the world" look like nobody's business. I have turquoise face gems and a fake eyebrow ring just waiting in my makeup bag for the first day I get to work for you. I love you, Urban, and I sure hope you love me too.
Sierra O'Mara Schwartz