You guys, I hate shopping.
I like getting new stuff, but I hate the process of getting it. Of going to the mall.
I do like shopping online, especially if I am supposed to be doing something else, like working. I like looking at shoes and dresses. (Why won't manufacturers put sleeves on their allegedly "career" dresses? Where is it that professional women go sleeveless to work? Armpits do not belong in an office. Nor do bare shoulders, Mandy. I thought I was the only one who noticed her inappropriate outfits, but a male co-worker referred to her today as "Low-cut Mandy.")
Online is a great place to browse. I have even shopped for men online. Matchmaker.com was a man mall. I met a really nice boyfriend on matchmaker.com. I haven't looked there lately - I don't think they are even in business any more - but it is kind of fun to scroll through the photos and read how people describe themselves. Memo to men seeking women: Most women are not going to be terribly impressed by or attracted to the fact that you are an Elvis impersonator, so you might want to leave that little bit off your bio. Or at least use a photo of you as you rather than you as Elvis.
But it can be dangerous to shop online. Everything looks good on a teenage model who is 5'10" and 120 pounds, which is both taller than I am and lighter than I am.
Not everything looks good on me. I need to try something on to decide if it is horribly nasty or bearable. Part of the equation is not wanting to throw up at the image of my almost-nude body reflected in the dressing room mirror under the dressing room lights.
Retailers! If I don't want to vomit when I see myself, I am more likely to buy your product! Invest in some decent lighting and good mirrors!
Unless it's all part of their plan to keep Women of a Certain Age from buying their product so as to preserve their image.
But that's not working. I saw a Woman of More Certain Age than I at the airport last week. But that didn't stop her from wearing a miniskirt, 4" heels, and a tank top that showed her bra straps, and from painting her fingernails (purple) as she waited for her flight to board.
Your brand is going to be destroyed. You might was well make some money in the process.
I had to go to the mall the other night to return some items I had ordered from Banana Republic, a store that used to be really fun to shop at but is now just another store. I liked going on a jungle safari. Life has changed. But sometimes they have nice clothes.
Then I went to The Limited. I would have been Mutton Dressed as Lamb for most of their items.
I walked past a J.Jill. I thought, "Those clothes might be OK. I need a black skirt." So I walked in.
And noticed right away that their saleswomen were wearing Sensible Shoes.
Which I admired.
Then I looked more closely. The saleswomen were Women of a Certain Age.
Not like Banana Republic or The Limited or Ann Taylor, where I am old enough to be the mother of everyone working, which is a weird thought because I don't have kids, so I don't usually measure my age that way, but one is forced to confront reality sometimes.
It was My Peeps at J.Jill.
I looked more closely at the skirts.
Then I looked at the one other customer in the store.
She looked like my grandmother. I mean my grandma 10 years ago, when my grandma would have been 91. And alive. But my grandma.
My grandma and I were looking at the same clothes.
I shook my head and left. I want to be the one destroying the brand, not fitting it.