A Shopping Odyssey

I used to love shopping. I could do it for hours at a time and not get bored. But lately, my tolerance for shopping has gotten dangerously low.

I usually shop alone. Going solo seems to work best for me since I can work on my own time frame, although it is helpful to have a friend around to give me an honest opinion. (I did have a friend who was great to shop with, because we have about the same tolerance level for shopping and we would get bored or annoyed around the same time. But she moved to another country.) I’ve given up shopping with my mother because she insists on coming into the dressing room with me or standing right outside and peeping in. Then she criticizes everything as “too revealing” or “too tight” (which from her means that it actually fits). She might as well tell me I’m dressing like a hooker (which I really don’t). It’s hard with my mother since our fashion aesthetics are light years apart. She wears nothing but neutral colored, buttoned-up, tailored, somewhat mannish clothes (think Annie Hall, but better tailored). Her neck and legs rarely see the light of day. I tend to wear actual colors and prints, and my neck and legs are often displayed.

As I have a good excuse to buy some new clothes (more on that later), I went out this weekend to do a little shopping. I had one specific goal in mind, getting a black pencil skirt, and I was open to anything else that popped up. So, off I went to Georgetown.

My first stop was Sephora. I just needed some grapefruit body scrub and a new eyebrow brush. Sometimes I get a little overwhelmed by Sephora. And this time, every 30 seconds an overly perky Sephora employee would accost me and ask if I needed any help. Over and over again. There were more employees than customers. I bought my items and beat a hasty retreat. I had walked to Georgetown and was hot and sweaty and no I really didn’t want to try a new eye shadow/lip gloss/blush. It’s probably a sign that I shouldn’t be shopping when 10 minutes in Sephora nearly brings on a panic attack.

My next stop was Club Monaco, which was nearly empty and much more low key. But I didn’t find much to interest me.

Then I headed to Zara, where I found 9 items to try on. And none of them worked. I remembered why I don’t own a pencil skirt: they look ridiculous on me. There must be something off about my waist/hip ratio, because if the skirt fits my hips, it gapes on my waist and vice versa. So, I scratched the pencil skirts. I did find one blouse that I liked, but it had some drawbacks: the fit on the top was a little off and I’m not sure it could be tailored to fit. And the shirt had approximately 42 buttons with loop closures that were a real pain in the ass to open and close, and I can only imagine how annoying they could be when I’m running late for work. So, the blouse went back on the shelf. I can’t stop thinking about it though. The Zara dressing rooms have bright, white walls and awful fluorescent lighting that gives my skin a lovely green tone. I realize it’s not exactly a high-end store, but I can’t understand why stores don’t make a little more effort with the dressing rooms. Better lighting would make me more likely to buy things.

French Connection was my next stop. The clothes were extremely meh, but I did end buying a very cute necklace that turned out to be half price.

I wandered down to Anthropologie and just walking through the doors made me feel better. It’s rather soothing. Unlike every other store I had entered, the music was pretty mellow and not pulsating disco beats (don’t get me wrong, I love pulsating disco beats most of the time, but when I’m frazzled and trying desperately to find items of clothing that don’t seem to exist, it just makes me anxious). And it always smells really good in there. I had no trouble finding lots of things I wanted to buy. Trying on the clothes was almost blissful. The dressing room walls are a soothing beige, and the light isn’t harsh. It made everything look better. I walked out of there with three dresses, and I could have bought two more, but I tried to restrain myself. I may have to go back though.

I considered checking out some of the non-chain stores at that point, but I decided to pass because 1) I was exhausted and frazzled, 2) having had success at Anthropologie, it seemed perhaps best to quit while I was ahead, and 3) I had probably done enough damage to my bank account for one weekend.

So, I killed some time flipping through magazines at Barnes and Noble and then met Lord Kissington for lunch. A glass of Sauvignon Blanc did much to soothe my shattered nerves. Not so soothing—the realization that I am still in need of several crucial items that will likely necessitate long shopping excursions in the near future.

This latest shopping excursion brought home several points: 1) pencil skirts don’t work on me, 2) I really like dresses and would be happy to wear one everyday, and 3) shopping makes me insane.