When I was a sixth grader, I firmly believed — as I still do — that Abercrombie represented the evil of the world. It was the devil, and I sought with Puritan determination to keep its sinful claws off of me and my friends.

I failed miserably.

As I stared up at the Abercrombie kids store sign above my head at the Valley Fair Shopping Mall, I was convinced the problem was them — not me. I stepped into a room with a larger than life-sized framed picture of a guy wearing a jacket (but no shirt) smothering the wall, lit up with black lamps like a shrine to a god.

And this is a kids store?

With Taylor Swift mumbling “Last Christmas” in the background and salespeople dressed in holiday watermelon plaid, Abercrombie kids didn’t seem so bad. The only thing that stank (literally) about the store was the cologne that my dad sprayed on me.

The dank smell not only made me queasy but also made me feel as stinky as a hobo as I went to Abercrombie & Fitch. With the shutters in the windows down, it really looked like the store was closed. As I am not in the least an expert on what is à la mode, I happened to take each stylistic detail of the store as an insult to pragmatism.

Take the choice of pictures on the wall, for one. Do I really need to see a half naked man pulling a half naked womanís pants off right in front of the cash register? How do half-naked people promote a clothing brand, anyway?

But what’s even more sinister is the behavior Abercrombie is promoting —

one day, I swear the world will become a nudist colony.

Can we not defend a shred of our dignity?