Tar-jayyy. It's pronounced Tar-get, world.

Target's "designer collaborations" have never impressed me all that much. Frankly, I like going to Target because I know I'm going to find clothes at "how many children do they employ in sweatshops?" prices. I'm not going there because I want to walk out with an Anna Sui dress. If I want a designer dress, I'll just be patient, save up $600-$1,000, and somehow justify spending that on a couple yards of fabric with a label sewn on it.

I understand that it's that exact mentality that Target is attempting--successfully--to change. I can only assume that they've acheieved success, because each collaboration has featured a more popular designer than the last, and shoppers begin anticipating the latest collections several months before they hit stores. Gasp! Just like in the real high fashion world! Where Target doesn't, and shouldn't, exist.

This impossibly elitist rant is going somewhere soon, I assure you.

Today, I went to Target looking to buy new slippers. Exactly the kind of simple, $10 item that I trust them to have in at least 3 different colors. THEY FAILED ME. I am still slipper-less. However, as I was sulking out of the store, I noticed a sign for their latest design partnership with Rodarte. I love Rodarte. LOVE THEM. Those two sisters can do no wrong in my eyes. All of their clothes look like they came straight out of a gothic, S&M-infused tea party. And I'm not alone in my admiration--this launch has had people on the edge of their seats since summer. Shocked that they still had anything in stock, I adopted the "crazed holiday shopper" persona and grabbed about 8 things, rushing into the dressing room before anyone could steal my bounty.

Verdict? Meh. I feel like they were inspired by a retired, drug-addicted ballerina. There's an enormous amount of tulle--almost to the point where I feel like someone should have pointed them in the direction of cotton--and everything is uneven or ragged. We've got slips with tulle overlays that are at least three inches longer than the slip, a tie-neck blouse composed solely of tulle, lace t-shirts, and the hooker dress to end all hooker dresses. It's mid-thigh-length with long sleeves (fine so far), made of lace (still sort of fine), leopard print (hmm...), and has three grossly oversized leopard-lace bows running up the back zipper.

WHAT? Of course I grabbed it, but after trying it on and giggling at the $40 price tag, I realized that I looked like someone who'd be worth about $5 on a busy corner. I'm not entirely suprised that the glory of Rodarte's runway shows didn't translate to a bargain big box store. I just really wish that people would stop pretending like it did. These aren't handmade dresses. They're not "directional" or avant-garde. They're lined up next to $12 Mossimo cardigans (which, let's be honest, is a much better purchase than a tacky dress that costs more than 2x that). So please, shoppers. Before you rush to Target to buy a "designer" label, remember what you're purchasing. A shoddily made, overpriced garment with an extra-special name sewn in the collar.