I am my mother's daughter

Too many times I've been targeted with the comment "You're just like your mom".  When I was a kid I never dreamed of being "like my mom" because she always had expensive taste and was always into the finer things.  I considered myself somewhat of a happy o lucky hippie kind of kid with my long hair and hemp necklaces, beaded bracelets, and flip flops.  

Last year I was in the market to buy a new car.  I was going from my little 1997 Toyota Corolla to something maybe a bit newer but nothing at all fancy.  So, I looked into a Scion, a Civic, and a VW Rabbit.  No biggies right.  Hm, well, as I started to shop I noticed these other more sophisticated cars that would make me feel like a pretty little fancy girl.  I even considered a Benz.  Totally out of my league.  Yeah, really.  I did end up buying another car.  Something bigger but not too big.  It was a little fancier but nothing too over the top.  Mom never went too over the top in the car category.  Although her recent purchase was a luxury SUV (she lives in a state where gas is the lowest in the country now- good for her).  

But where do I really become "my mother's daughter"?  Oh, just call me a name brand whore now.  It's pretty crazy.  While half of my wardrobe still comes from Target (they're clothes are too cute) , the other half, well, let's put it this way...Target lets me save money on buying from those stores that start with the letter N and the ones that have pianos playing in the background.  Real live pianos.  My sunglasses now include a brand name plastered to the side, my purse has the logo jetting out from each side, and the list goes on.  Don't get me started on the purses.  My purses don't come from Target.  I am a purse snob.  My mother- complete purse snob.