I‘m Ashley Olsen and FYI, fools: I wasn’t carrying a machete. It was a bag from my elite fashion line, The Row.

Guys. So sorry to disappoint you. That long black thing I was holding in the recent photo of me “on a hike” was not, in fact, a machete. It wasn’t a sword either, plebeians. It was a bag from The Row’s upcoming Fall collection. But to be fair, our stuff is only reserved for the elite, so there’s no way you everyday people would have known that. Totally makes sense most of you associated one of our innocent bags with something violent. After all, you poor guys are surrounded by crime all the time, right?

It’s an honest, non-privileged person’s mistake. So you’re forgiven for mocking me all over Twitter. You just don’t know about the fashion of the top one percent, I get it. Mary-Kate gets it too.

Most of you have never had the pleasure of seeing our exquisite fabrics in person, so it’s perfectly normal that you’d think that the satchel in the photo was crafted out of steel. It’s also interesting, that you thought the outfit I was wearing was some crazy Kung Fu getup. Funny! That white thing was the first T-shirt I designed for The Row when I decided I just must solve the problem which Hanes created.

Yes, you’ve seen simple white T-shirts. But you may not have seen simple white T-shirts of the rich.

I don’t expect you to drop $19,000 for our Bourse Bag in Alligator instead of paying off college debt. I’m not that out of touch. I just didn’t foresee you thinking our Caste Bag in Satanic Gecko was a type of tribal knife. You really should shop in places other than Target and Old Navy every once in a while.

Also, the backdrop you thought was a forest, wasn’t actually a forest. It was the Met Gala. You know, the exclusive event, where some of the richest people in the world gather to raise money for costumes. Ooops. My mistake. You’re probably only familiar with fundraising events held at soup kitchens. Now I get why you would think the fanciest ballroom at the Metropolitan Museum of Art was, instead, the woods. It’s that foreign to you.

Also, just to clear this up. The liquid in the glass I was holding was not a classic alcoholic beverage. It was actually liquid gold. Pure AU, if you must.

What, you’re confused that I wasn’t carrying a bottle of Poland Spring with me on my little hike like everyone else would on a hot summer day? Well, I don’t expect you to comprehend how a multimillionaire hydrates more than I’d expect you to get that my new bag, which costs about the same as the average family car, was not in fact a classic weapon.

And if you must know, that hat on my head might look to you like a regular old baseball hat. But to me and all my sophisticated friends, it’s a vintage crown made of emeralds and elk fur. My sister found it while vintage shopping in Paris while being driven around in a Rolls-Royce, that to you, commoners, might have looked like an equestrian horse.

Hope this clears up all the confusion surrounding that photo of me. Also, those weren’t Yeezys on my feet. They were space shoes. I also really want to go to the moon.

Rochelle is a humorist and writer from the NYC area. In a parallel world, she’s a copywriter and a girl mom whose rambling is about to be cut by the count bots.

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