An open letter to H&M

Dear H&M,

I love you.

When I realized I only wore solid-colored shirts ("dressed like a Rothko" if you want to be all freshman fall semester art history about it) you were there for me, offering a tempting array of stripes, polka-dots, and belts. Gap has been selling me the same black turtleneck/grey hoodie/green T-shirt combo since middle school, but you have more than picked up the slack.

You have supplied my work wardrobe in a variety of pleasing textures and colors. Thanks to you sweatpants are not on that list. When I need a T-shirt and wouldn't like to spend more than the reasonable sum of $5 for it, you are there for me. Sometimes it feels as though you've put your items in a box marked ''Free to a good home" or that you would be willing to barter for some zucchini bread.

Where else will I find a $14 purse that people have run down the street to ask me about? I even saw Beyonce at your store once, and stood next to her in line as she bought $600 worth of clothes. That buys a lot, because you are so generous with your pricing. Some jackass took a picture of her in line and got yelled at by her bodyguard, no doubt called ''Tiny." I would post that picture if I could figure out how.

Walking in your stores, I could almost be convinced that your mannequins are on to something. If they had their wiley Swedish way, we'd all dress like hobo clowns and live in a happy world. A Cosby sweater over a purple unitard and velour pants? Well, um, I don't know how that can look good...OH! add patent leather suspenders, a flapper hat and a scarf...no two scarves... now we're on to something. All for $32.95? Have it gift wrapped, I'll pull the car around.

However, I have one tiny complaint. Like a squirrel storing acorns for the winter, I sense that I should be gathering supplies for the cold months ahead. When I turned to you for tights, nice thick ones, I felt betrayed. I was faced with a wall of leggings. Trendy, sure, but the tops of my feet don't want to be trendy. They want to be warm.

Don't worry, I'm not leaving you, but this is a red flag. Don't make me cheat on you with Target.

Love,

Kate