Proof of a Higher Power
Aug. 13th, 2002 11:36 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
disbelief11It's a miracle. A miracle, I tell ya.
You know how it is. You decide you're going to go shopping for that one particular item of clothing you've decided will rejuvenate your whole wardrobe. The wardrobe you're completely sick of right now. Really sick of all of it. You want to toss all your clothes in a pit and bury them, but then that whole "can't go outside naked without getting arrested" thing stops you at the last second.
So you go shopping. Head to the mall, fight for a parking space, push your way past all the slow people eating giant pretzels who keep cutting in front of you as you are attempting to navigate the best course (really, sometimes it's like you need assistance from air traffic control).
While you're doing that, you're considering which store will best suit your needs. It's a complicated formula involving price, style, what part of the retail "season" it is now, and how rude the sales person will likely be.
Arriving at your designated store, you dodge the ubiquitous perfume and makeup counter ninjas and the totally obvious store security guy and head toward the department where you think your desired item will be. Only to find that the store is remodeling and all the stuff has been moved around.
After you get the apathetic 17 year old (slightly less depressing than the apathetic 57 year old) sales associate to direct you to the right spot, you find a display of the exact item that occasioned this whole trip. But you're careful not to get your hopes up too high because (a) they probably don't have your size; (b)it's going to be too expensive; or (c)it'll be both too expensive and not in your size.
Upon ascertaining that the shopping goddesses are indeed not in your corner again, you go back home, gnashing your teeth in frustration, determined never to return to the mall again.
So yeah, you know how it is, right? But I am here now to tell you that a MIRACLE happened today. Damn skippy, a miracle!
I decided I needed a black tank top. At the first store I went to, I found black tank tops (without having to search for them too much). Then I found one in my size. THEN I looked at the price tag -- it was on sale! Holy Wifebeaters, Batman, I totally wasn't expecting that!
It's a MIRACLE! A Miracle At Marshall Fields.
You know how it is. You decide you're going to go shopping for that one particular item of clothing you've decided will rejuvenate your whole wardrobe. The wardrobe you're completely sick of right now. Really sick of all of it. You want to toss all your clothes in a pit and bury them, but then that whole "can't go outside naked without getting arrested" thing stops you at the last second.
So you go shopping. Head to the mall, fight for a parking space, push your way past all the slow people eating giant pretzels who keep cutting in front of you as you are attempting to navigate the best course (really, sometimes it's like you need assistance from air traffic control).
While you're doing that, you're considering which store will best suit your needs. It's a complicated formula involving price, style, what part of the retail "season" it is now, and how rude the sales person will likely be.
Arriving at your designated store, you dodge the ubiquitous perfume and makeup counter ninjas and the totally obvious store security guy and head toward the department where you think your desired item will be. Only to find that the store is remodeling and all the stuff has been moved around.
After you get the apathetic 17 year old (slightly less depressing than the apathetic 57 year old) sales associate to direct you to the right spot, you find a display of the exact item that occasioned this whole trip. But you're careful not to get your hopes up too high because (a) they probably don't have your size; (b)it's going to be too expensive; or (c)it'll be both too expensive and not in your size.
Upon ascertaining that the shopping goddesses are indeed not in your corner again, you go back home, gnashing your teeth in frustration, determined never to return to the mall again.
So yeah, you know how it is, right? But I am here now to tell you that a MIRACLE happened today. Damn skippy, a miracle!
I decided I needed a black tank top. At the first store I went to, I found black tank tops (without having to search for them too much). Then I found one in my size. THEN I looked at the price tag -- it was on sale! Holy Wifebeaters, Batman, I totally wasn't expecting that!
It's a MIRACLE! A Miracle At Marshall Fields.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2002-08-13 10:27 pm (UTC)But the salespersons are there to be bothered!!
Date: 2002-08-14 03:49 am (UTC)I can't remember the last time I went clothes shopping. It has gotten too expensive, and I lost all my interest in fashion. I just wear the clothes I already have.
And, yeah, congratulations on your miracle!
no subject
Date: 2002-08-14 02:24 pm (UTC)I particularly enjoy the Fortuitious Shoe Purchase, when there is only one pair left, and it fits you like a glove (a glove for your feet, of course), and then... it's marked down. It's like the hand of god comes down, touches the shoes and a great booming voice says, "SHE'LL TAKE *THESE*. DO YOU TAKE VISA?"
Because then you *know* it was meant to be. *sigh* I got my Union Jack Doc Martens that way, and it's a truly special bond between us...