Just kidding, they didn’t let me in. The guy at the door said they can’t transfer invitations, even though Jennifer would have had to clone herself in order to be there. But as I am now S.O.L. for a post, I will tell you what I know about The Gap.
The Gap is a store in the mall. It’s towards the middle of the mall, between the Cinnabon and the Games Workshop, if I recall correctly. I used to go there with my mother to buy clothes that fit the dress code of my school, and we would fight a lot about which boxy khakis looked best on me. (Spoiler alert: none.) It was partly due to having to shop at The Gap that I developed my signature angsty teen look, which followed the letter of the dress code, if not the spirit. We weren’t allowed to wear jeans, for example, but there was nothing in there about ripped stockings, head-to-toe black, and combat boots, so I went with that. This look proved durable to the point that I didn’t even want to wear jeans anymore, so I looked really nice all the time. Thanks, The Gap, for working with my school’s oppressive rules to teach me how to be resourceful in expressing myself. It’s helped me to become the wonderfully well-adjusted person I am today.