A Boston Globe article this past weekend about stores enticing shopping-phobic men through their doors by offering whiskey and other manly perks reminded me of this one time back when I lived in Phoenix. I was out doing some shopping when I saw a sign in the window of the Gap.
It read: “Try on a pair of men’s khakis, get $10 off any purchase!”
I approached a salesgirl. “So can I try on a pair of men’s khaki’s and get the $10 discount?” I was all set to wage a sartorial feminism campaign a la Gloria Steinem. “Gap gives better discounts to men! I’d call the corporate offices first thing Monday morning.
But the salesgirl shrugged. “Yeah, of course. We can’t offer a discount to men and not to women. That would probably be illegal or something.” Continue reading
The other night when I stopped in at Loehmann’s on my way home, a friendly lady at the entrance handed me a coupon for 20 percent off everything in the store. Sale stuff. Non-sale stuff. Expensive shoes. Cheap shirts. Purses. EVERYTHING.
Browsing on Pinterest for a “sale” sign I came across this, and thought it was super cute, and somewhat relevant. A little.
Apparently it was their friends and family sale. All stores seem to have these periodically and I’m not sure why they’re called that, but I’m always happy to consider myself a friend—even a relative—of anyone having a sale.
Meantime, as I roamed Loehmann’s, I found myself doing that thing that I’m sure we all do (I’m curious– do you do it to?)… that thing where you’re constantly calculating, and doing it so quickly it becomes automatic. Everything I saw I said to myself “Oh! But it’s not that price! I’d be getting another 20 percent off!”
At one point I even saw a gorgeous brown leather Michael Kors skirt and said “Oh, it’s not really $600. It’s another 20 percent off!”(No I did not even let myself think about letting myself consider thinking about trying it on. Yes it was beautiful. I can’t find a picture. You’ll have to take my word for it.) Continue reading
At some point in our lives, we’ve all had to make an appearance at some fancy event where there was someone that for whatever reason we wanted to punch. We haven’t acted on this because we are not violent people, and also because in prison you don’t get days off to go to Nordstrom, which makes doing time very unappealing.
A purse that doubles as a piece of jewelry that doubles as a weapon.
However, this handbag I saw the other night while browsing in Loehmann’s may make the temptation hard to resist. See, I found this evening bag that was designed to be carried not by a strap or handles, but by a knuckleduster. That’s right, the clasp was made of one of those rings with multiple loops that slips over three or four fingers at once and binds them together.
Now, I love rings, but the knuckleduster is not a trend I much care for. I’ve seen some more delicate designs that look interesting in the display case, but the idea of wearing something that limits my dexterity makes me anxious.
However, if you like that style of jewelry, this handbag is definitely for you. It’s perfect if you’re at a cocktail party and you want to hold your glass of wine with one hand and, um, punch someone with the other. Or you could just put the weapon bag down and use that hand to grab yourself another drink. You’ll feel much better.
My New Blouse
I’ll keep this story short, as I really don’t need to relive it.
A couple months ago I picked up a very thin, peach-colored, French Connection cotton blouse at Loehmann’s. I figured it had ended up at a discount store because the batch had been sized wrong; even the smallest sizes seemed huge. Still, I figured it would go well with my olive-green linen blend Brooklyn Industries jacket, so for about $25 I figured what the hell and took it home.
Last week I decided to bust it out for running errands in the city. It was super hot and I figured I couldn’t go wrong wearing this flowy empire-waist blouse out and about.
It turns out, I could.
The Bad Good Samaritan
There I was feeling pretty cute if I say so myself until I got on the subway, found a good standing place, settled my Trader Joe’s bags between my ankles, and a woman offered me her seat.
You already know where this is going, don’t you? Continue reading