That hits the spot

I love Target. Everyone I know loves Target. I also love Lowe's. Not everyone I know loves Lowe's, but that is their personal shortfall.

Target's appeal isn't just to suburbanites like myself. My husband's sister-in-law (does this make her my sister-in-law?) is a city type who treks out to the suburbs for a Target trip. Its appeal, unlike Lowe's, is definitely skewed to women. Mostly, it seems, Type A women. Hipsters, grandmas, college kids, everyone can find something at Target. I think it's so universal that the nickname Tar-jay is unnecessary: no one feels compelled to make Target more upscale than it is anymore. Target is consumer heaven.

True, I have resolved to be less consumerist. To need, want, crave, have fewer accessories and crap cluttering the house. But the thing about Target is I can buy OTHER stuff there, too!

At Target, I can stroll through aisles of bins, baskets, and sorters, visualizing my hyper-organized alter ego. I can imagine cupboards and drawers lined with fashionista-patterned shelf paper. I can see office supplies stored away in tiny paper-clip sized totes. In Aisle 34 I can compartmentalize, label, and stow the disorder, both metaphorical and literal, of my life.

In Aisle 26 in the pharmaceutical section, I can picture myself thin. Healthy protein bars, diet supplements, vitamins, shakes, sketchy products containing 'magical herbs' all beckon and promise me a bikini ready body by summer.

Conversely, in the freezer section, I can satisfy all hormonal and emotional related food cravings. Everything from greasy potstickers and southwestern egg rolls to a rainbow of ice cream flavors and Chipwiches are ready to repair a damaged psyche or PMS.

Over in the clothing section, I can peruse the Target-ized versions of the latest trends. In fact, that white denim skirt I picked up is sure to fall apart after 10 washings, but then again, it will probably be out of style after 8. Tshirts are plentiful, and actually they wash pretty well. And I can always wear more shirts. The ever-useful yoga pants are right there, too. Comfy Saturdays. Solved.

And the shoes? The pleather wonder of the shoes? I actually never buy the shoes. For one thing, there is an inverse relationship between quality of shoe and weight of shoe, such that the wedge heels Target sells can only be worn by people with magnificently strong quads. I mean Mr. Munster had sleeker footwear. But, the kids' shoes are perfect..cheap and crappy sandals for summer? Check. Galoshes to splash in puddles (once)? Check.

Kidswear is perfect at Target. Especially for boys, who really don't care about clothes anyway. Graphic tees for summer? Yup. Swim trunks. Done. A dress shirt for that one night a year when the kids need one? $10 and done. Of course, the ever popular Spiderman underwear and Spongebob pj's are an excellent bribe if you're stuck with kids through the store. "We can get those if you behave through the grocery section."

For whatever reason, Target also has an 'intimates' section. And since I'm married now, and have only bad underwear and worse underwear instead of date underwear and monthly underwear, I can pick up a 12 pack for like $8. Perfect. The occasional night shirt can be found, too, if you're willing to pick through a bunch of Disney-fied grown up sizes (sleep shirts that have a dwarf on them that say "SLEEPY." Not even the most sex-deprived husband is going to want to caress a body clad in dwarfs. OHHHH. Maybe that's why they sell those.)

There's the toy section, but I'm skipping that, because I just can't take the chorus of "I want that" right now.

Finally, I suppose, are the groceries. Every packaged, high-fructose syrup infested, refined-flour having, artificially colored, flavored, preservative-laden food you can imagine awaits at Target. Individually wrapped baked goods, salty snacks that appear to have more salt than actual salt, and every sweet smelling NEW and IMPROVED cleaning agent you can imagine. I do love the new and improved.

I could spend mornings, days walking through Target's glistening aisles. The soothing fluorescent glow reflects off of the clam packaging to remind us that our homes could be decorated with the likes of Liberty of England, our bodies clad by fashion moguls of Izaac Mizrahi, and our kitchens accented with Graves designs. It's all possible. Everything from off-brand plasma TVs to Dora The Explorer umbrellas lies before you.

It's America. Made in China. And I love it.