I don't take my allegiance to the Pottery Barn lightly. I'm truly devoted, particularly to all manner of seasonal displays. If imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, the Barn is surely flooded with gratitude to know that I faithfully fulfill my mission to shamelessly reproduce every one of their ideas in my own home as cheaply as possible using Hobby Lobby coupons by the dozens.
It is not my nature to question the Barn, but rather to accept their recommendations for table-scaping as unbridled truth and to copy, copy, copy. This weekend I made my regularly scheduled pilgrimage to verify proper placement of fall leaves and turkey trinkets, as well as to survey the latest offerings of throw pillows for my still naked leather sofa. I was talking on my phone to Marci when I was forced to stop mid-sentence and question all I ever knew to be true about my beloved Pottery Barn.
For there, in front of me, were rats in glass. In what appears to be a horrific marketing catastrophe, Pottery Barn has made a near fatal err in judgement. I summoned the strength to croak the news to Marci in a barely audible tone.
What was that, she wanted to know?? Glass? Grass?
No, no. RATS. Rats in glass. Also, climbing up candlesticks, peeking out from leaf garlands, perching precariously all over sprigs of autumn bittersweet, and even sitting in cereal bowls on the dining tables. I don't think I've ever felt so betrayed by a retail establishment. No amount of throw pillow cuteness can compensate for this debacle....
I feel it is my civic duty to warn you before your very own copy of the fall catalog arrives in your mailbox. Prepare to be disturbed. Very disturbed. I'm now left to my own devices to fill my apothecary jars, which is uncharted territory to me.
Pottery Barn, you have cheated on me with bad taste. Hopefully, I will recover in time for your show of Christmas finery. Please, no wintery rodents.