Send My apologies to Coach.

Dear Coach (and soccer moms and daughters who tote such totes),

I want you to know something, i don't even like you, i don't like your kind, and the people that associate themselves with you. I'm am from now on severing our friendship. I don't like your many C's i feel like you've sold out. Don't you remember the happier times? Times when we would stroll down the sidewalk. You, with your high quality double stitched leather. Your bold and yes, dare i say it, fierce hardware clanking for all eyes to see. You held the eye of everyone in a room, you the purse of choice for all Manhattan socialites.
But then you started hanging out with a different crowd. You cheapened yourself to....soccer moms...yes even today I saw you. Shamelessly clinging onto that womens shoulder. How dare she think wearing you with sweatpants and flipflops were ok. HOW COULD YOU!? She had on a DISNEY MICKEY MOUSE SHIRT ON! I was not only shocked but appalled. The clincher was the smirk that woman had on her face. As if you by her side she had dressed up for the day of shopping. Yes, i saw you clinging to her clone of a daughter too.
The point is it's over Coach. It's over. You and all your fake cousins can go to hell. I knew this day would come when you let yourself go. I mean, come on! you look like someone sewed you together with different types of patchwork and thats supposed to be classy?
Now if you'll excuse me I believe i hear Marc calling my name.