In this essay James
Stegall writes that Lands’ End catalogue reminds him of his ex. The piece is a sad, powerful rumination about
loss and how seemingly innocuous, everyday things can trigger the most painful
memories.
“These are images more invasive than
any Victoria's
Secret spread, because they don't inspire lust. This is a pornography of
regret, and the longer you stare, the more seductive it becomes.”
