This morning my adorable co-worker approached my desk, wearing an impish grin. “I bought you a Valentine’s Day gift,” she said. I immediately panicked as I had nothing to give in return. That was until she presented me with this:
“You’re contaminating my workspace, leave immediately.”
As my hatred for Vera Bradley is widely known on the Interwebs and in the marble halls, clearly, she meant the gift as a gag. But either way, just having it near me makes me feel less fashionable. I am currently formulating a plot for retribution.
To 3 Worst Valentine’s Day gifts: dead flowers, an STD and a Vera Bradley clutch.
Right on, that clutch is ghastly.
I thought of you at the airport yesterday. I spotted a woman with two large Vera carry on bags (which she made her husband carry), a Vera purse, and to top it all off, a Vera wallet, all in coordinating colors. To add insult to injury, she was wearing the classic 80s mom jean.
If you keep it, you are required to move to Indiana, get married, birth 3 kids in rapid succession, and feed them your crowning culinary delight – chili mac. Ugh. Or is that just my personal version of hell?
Hi, Belle. Really enjoy your blog. I thought of you today when I came across the Team Vera Bradley cycling team. Who knew? https://iamspecialized.com/team/team-vera-bradley-foundation