Outlet Village

“I need to eat a salad,” said the woman, steam rising from her magenta lips. “It’s freezing. A person could, like, die out here or something. I should’ve bought those Diesels, don’t you think? I bet I could’ve fit into them by Christmas. It’d be something to shoot for.”

“So you go take a steam and a sauna,” said her husband. “You’ll come out feeling like a million bucks.”

“The steam room makes me retain water.”

The man grunted and looked down at his cell phone. They were standing in the Outlet Village parking lot, their legs nearly hidden behind shopping bags. The outlets were designed to resemble a medieval hamlet, sans slop pails and the Plague, and with colorful brand-name logos in place of coats of arms. Beyond the village rose wave upon wave of wooded, snow-covered hills bare of foliage save for the hemlock, spruce and pine sprinkled throughout. Looking up into this wilderness, the woman’s mascara-rimmed eyes narrowed; she might have been surveying a wasteland of yellow brimstone. A red van pulled up, the husband and wife climbed inside while the driver retrieved their bags, and they sped off onto a narrow road that wound between the trees. As the couple watched the outlets disappear from sight a look of disquiet came over them...

[read the rest of the article here at adbusters.org]

Then, come back here and lets talk about it.