Remember Bebe? There was a time when this was a classy store. There was a time when I was in a chatroom at the age of 14 telling people “I’m wearing a Bebe shirt and sweat pants” and one of the guests replied “Damn, 14 and wearing Bebe?” There was a time when I was shopping for my first Winter Ball dress and I really really wanted this gorgeous Bebe skirt with swirly ribbons sewn on like flowers but my mom wouldn’t buy it for me because it was in the triple digits. There was a time when I went onto their Web-site and saved images of their logos and fashion sketches and saved them as my desktop background.

Bebe, originally pronounced “bee-bee,” but conceded to “bay-bay” as time has worn on, was founded by an Iranian immigrant but grown to appeal to big-busted women from everywhere. In their 2005 SEC filing, they describe the Bebe woman as ”modern, sexy, sophisticated, body-conscious woman who takes pride in her appearance.” (Who isn’t body-conscious these days in one way or another?) Essentially, Bebe is made for a shape I do not have, but when I had first discovered window shopping via the Web, I highly coveted what they offered.

In the last couple of years, though, something has happened. Their clothes? Look horrible. Their designs? Are tacky. Their prices? Of course, inflated.

I met a woman who once designed for Bebe, and she was clearly disgusted by having the name on her resume. To go from designing costumes for a Broadway run of Chicago to shit like this? Embarrassing.

I’m pretty sure I designed a dress like this in kindergarten when I had just discovered teal or was finally allowed to use glue and glitter and sequins, and had just grasped the concept of layers and layers building tiered skirts. Seriously, that thing looks like you could have constructed it with crepe paper. How is it flattering? For anyone?

I don’t understand.

Editor’s Note: Nothing ever happened in those chatrooms. NOTHING.