There are some stores that I avoid like a pile of soft cow manure. The reasons for avoiding these stores are varied.
For some, the reason is because I have the tendency when I am in the stores to feel like I am 21 year old sorority college girl again. You know those stores, where all the staff are orange tan and "Like, oh my GOD. That is, like, an amazing top on you. So young and fresh. You just, like, have to in a million years and times over get that!"And for a few split seconds, you feel as though it is totally acceptable to whore yourself out at Tubbys Saturday night amongst all the trash of Manhattan, who also spent $20 on that barely-covering-your ass piece of bright pink cloth (dress).
And just because it is a dress, does NOT meant that it is classy, ladies.
The pieces of string and cloth may be cheap, but do not let that fool you. Do not try to talk yourself into buying it because it's so cheap. Don't act as though you're doing your savings account any favors by buying that skimpy top ("But, it's such a bargain! It's double duty: I am saving money AND I look 10 years younger"...ahem) Pull your head out of your teeny-bopper daydream. You look at the staff and wonder how old they REALLY are. Fun fact girls, the harder you try to dress and look like a 21 year old, the more obvious it is that you are NOT 21 years old. It's more apparent that when you WERE 21, fake plastic pants and big hair were really considered acceptable attire outside your ranch style home.
I digress.
Over lunch today, I went to our local Manhattan Town Center to return a pair of jeans I had bought last night at 8.30 pm. Big Star flares are not appropriate for boots and for some odd reason, I had thought I could pull it off. No dice. My plan was to go in, grab the boot-cut version and do the easy exchange and be on my merry little way back to campus. Ahem. The staff, bless their hearts, kept throwing different styles for me to "just try. You'll love them. I promise!" When I worked at GAP, I strived to NOT be that sales associate that could not take the hint when the customer says "I only have ten minutes. I need to make this quick." It's annoying. And if you know me and I'm on a schedule, I become cranky. Real quick. And I talk even faster and tense up. I know my amazing God-given figure quite well and I KNOW that Ultra low rise jeans transform me back to those days when my beer gut (bless you 1225 Bertrand Apt D) was glorious and I wore more tiny athletic tees that I should have been allowed. I left this said store with 10 minutes left until 1. I was famished. I was hot. I was sweaty. I was pissed. I was frustrated. I had bought the jeans that I had originally picked up, before I was swarmed around associates.
Will I go back to this store? Of course. Will I spend more than ajl's house mortgage at this store before I leave the 66502 zip code? Of course I will. Will I complain? See July 22 blog. It's the human in me. To complain and then go back for more, in this case: Big Star jeans.
