Thursday, February 03, 2005

Shopping Experiences

Have you ever noticed how certain stores lend themselves to a certain type of shopper? Not only that, but they seem to attract certain types of employees as well. Whilst shopping at a certain high-brow department store's "Rack" outlet (said store has a name that starts with N and ends with M and rhymes with "whore-drum") I noticed a few things:
1) Deep-discount outlet-type stores employ very mannish looking women, while uppity, elitist, "we only cater to a very select clientele" stores (usually called "boutiques") employ very feminine-looking men.
2) Deeply discounted shoes will bring out the worst in even the most liberated feminist.
3) Stretchy halter tops with rhinestones should never be sold in any size, but if they absolutely must be allowed to litter the clearance racks they should be limited to sizes in the single digits (and yes, I have worn double-digit sizes since high school - but never a rhinestone halter top).

I don't usually enjoy shopping. Sometimes I get it into my head that I MUST shop. CONSUME!! Most of the time, however, I look on shopping as something to dread much like cleaning the litter box - although with less need to wear rubber gloves and spray everything liberally with Lysol.

When I was little I accompanied my mother on many shopping excursions that could last whole afternoons. I remember little of these expeditions except my propensity to hide in the middle of those circular clothes racks and jump out at my mother while shouting "BOO!" I thought I was hilarious and was injecting some much-needed fun into our trips; I think my mother thought otherwise. We were poor so we never went to those big department stores except to cruise the basement clearance rooms that looked like they had only recently been converted from nuclear fallout shelters. I suspect that behind some of the clearance racks there were cans of peas from the 1950s. Ahhh memories!

1 Comments:

Blogger The Cybrarian said...

Hating shopping is a good thing. I grew up poor but now I'm rich. But my family comes from money. A long story, but anyway, spending too much because you feel somehow inferior about being poor is a peril. They've been trained to push your insecurity buttons, those shopkeeps. Never feel bad about saying "it's just not me" to a minimum-wage mall employee. I just bought a $200 wallet-and-purse set and took it back-- "it keeps slipping off my shoulder and I know that's going to drive me crazy." My favorite thing is to find a Goodwill in a neighborhood that has different taste but where all the society ladies (aka sucka-ass shoppers) drop their Talbots and cashmere coats and little suits. (aka the Poor Black Neighborhood, at least in this town, where the Republicans think all the poor need to make to is an Anne Klien suit, and the poor could give 2 shits). If you wanna really save, diet to a size 6 or 8 and scoop up all the stuff the rich gals bought when they Weight-Watchered themselves down before the weight decided to head back. It'll have been worn once. And Goodwill is so much more fun, your toddler can run wild and you never know what you'll find.

11:23 PM  

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