potomac mills: a wtf?! review and a romper

I hate to bid adieu to my wardrobe trademarks -- tight pants and sweatervests -- but the heat in DC kills me. Must... think... of... alternative.

But luckily, that alternative thought of me. I had spent the morning with The Law at the sketchy gun show learning about boobytrapping (theme week!), followed by an early afternoon taking in the sights of Dale City and a mid-afternoon ultimately failing to find a blaze orange ammo belt at Grangers Ganders. But then fate intervened.

The original plan was to find our sweet shooting gear then hit up the range, however, by the time the shambles of last Saturday morning/afternoon were over, as well as by the time we were done with our classy Denny's brunch (pancakes, eggs, sausage and hashbrowns for $4.99?!), the Bull Run Shooting Center -- our range of choice -- was about to close. So we did the only logical thing people do when they can't shoot guns -- we spent money. More specifically, we went to Potomac Mills shopping center, which happens to be right next to Dale City.

Potomac Mills is a strange, strange place. It's a bit like L'Enfant Plaza in that the whole thing seems a bit foreign. That is, like the Soviet-style architecture featured in and around L'Enfant Plaza, the stores that compose Potomac Mills remind me a bit of the stores one would find in pre-Putin Russia or parts of South America. First, the clothes in these stores feature more sequins than one of Johnny Weir's ice-skating ensembles and, second, many of the stores have ridiculous names.

Some boast conspicuous designer names that have nothing to do with said designer, such as "Glory & Dior." Trust me, Dior has nothing to do with that. Others feature names with obvious nods to certain areas of the world, a practice done quite regularly in places like Kyrgyzstan (Where? Exactly.), hoping to cash in on the cachet of another country's fashion sense. Potomac Mills has "Group USA" and "Istanbul." (Yeah, I couldn't even Google that last one...) And still others seem to just pick random words in hopes that they sound hip, like "Urban Behavior," "Papaya," "LVL X Direct," and my personal favorite, "E-Paris." (Again, all three are un-Googleable.) All of this is reminiscent of a little store I spotted a couple of years ago while vacationing in Punta del Este, Uruguay.

You can't see it, but a store called Peen was on the right. (If only...)

Ridiculous store names aside, however, the strangest thing about Potomac Mills is that it's home to a JC Penney's Outlet. Now, call me uppity, call me a snob, call me stuck-up, perhaps even call me bitchy, but, um, isn't JC Penney's already kind of an outlet? I don't see Marshalls or TJ Maxx outlets. Why? It just doesn't make sense. Logic and Virginia, however, never necessarily seem to go hand-in-hand, so I'll let that one slide.

But let's get real. Let's get to the good stuff -- the awesome sh*t I found (natch!). Luckily, Potomac Mills isn't all made up of mid-1990s Russian-style stores and JC Penney's Outlets. They also have an Off 5th Saks outlet, a BCBG Max Azaria outlet and, of course, staples like Forever 21, which you'd find in any old mall.

At BCBG I managed to procure a really nice (even work appropriate) dress for $110, marked down from $286; at Off 5th I found a pair of bright turquoise skinny jeans by Joe's Jeans for $26.98 (!), marked down from $158, and an Elie Tahari velvet blazer for just $68.97 (!!), marked down from *gasp!* $478. But perhaps the find of the day season -- my new pièce de résistance, if you will -- was this SILK ROMPER bought at, um, Forever 21.

"F" for self-photog skills; "A" for romper-wearing.

Now, I'm slightly embarrassed about where I found it (as a 28-year-old, I always find it a bit uncomfortable to be waiting in the fitting-room line with a 13-year-old holding the same item), but I'm not embarrassed about the price -- $27. Tight. Looking at this photo, however, I'm not exactly excited about how I styled this outfit. Mid-calf boots + romper = Stumpy McNoLegs. And I'm 5'9"...and the doughnut I just ate isn't helping. Dammit.

Anyway, let me put it this way: The romper is my new sweatervest. And although I'm pretty sure DC-at-large will not look favorably upon my summer jumpsuit, I don't really care. What I do care about is not sweating profusely when the heat index hits 100. And really, eff it -- I've never shied away from looking like a jackass before, so why start now? Plus, it's an effing romper! And because I want to spread the romper-love, I'm in the midst of gathering up a few romper e-finds for those of you who might be interested in jumping the shark into a sea of onesie wonder with me. It's a magical world...and surprisingly comfortable. Not wearing pants is the best...