Sunday, July 13, 2008

On the Rack

On Friday I found myself in midtown stuck between an early morning interview and a mid afternoon one. After sitting in Bryant Park for a quick sushi and chocolate chip cookie lunch, I decided to do a little window shopping. Or, more appropriately, trying things on with no intention to buy shopping. I made my way through the H&M at 5th and 42nd as well as the BCBG store before somehow wandering over to Saks Fifth Avenue.

I've never been one to fear expensive stores. I browse and glance and touch as if I am planning on actually leaving with that $1,200 purse. It's all about the fantasy. As long as I stay out of the sale section.

Unfortunately, Saks was covered with nothing but sale sections as every store from Old Navy to Chanel is in the process of dumping their summer selections in favor of the longer pants and heavier knits of early fall. I thought I was still safe from temptation, however, because of the current frailty of the American Dollar.

In front of the escalators lay my first obstacle. The bags. I veered clear of the sales bin and made my way for the full-priced choices lining the back wall. But something caught my eye. A bin of Marc Jacobs bags. They were pink. Supple. Pretty.

And they were around $400. As the girl across from me told her friend how much of a deal that was, I snapped a photo and began planning exactly how much of my hair I could sell in order to own this little piece of perfection.

I dreamt of that time long ago. Of the summer of 2007 when instead of freelancing and looking for internships, I had a full time job where dropping $400 on a life long investment piece would leave me feeling guilty for exactly two days before I promptly got over it. Oh, how I wished for those times to return.

But it's the summer of 2008, so I put the bag back in its place and rode the escalator towards the clothes.

To be honest, I've always been more of a clothes person. Shoes and bags are wonderful, but a comfy sweater or a twirly dress will get me every time. Too bad I was about to run into obstacle number two.

The sales racks on the clothing floor are much less scary for someone looking to keep their checking account liquid. The sales prices are still so prohibitive that you wouldn't dream of owning most of the pieces. Or so I thought. While making my way through the Givenchy and Nina Ricci, a red piece flashed for a moment in a sea of black and gray.

The picture I took with my crap cellphone really does it no justice. It was the softest thing that I've ever felt. Dolce & Gabbana. In my size. And around $400. Someone really wanted me to empty my funds that day. But I was good. I spent 20 minutes touching and holding and looking at the thing like a fool, but I was good. Even though it would have been great for the wedding I'm going to in August. And even though it was the type of dress that looks good when your weight fluctuates.

And even though it was perfect.

I looked at my cellphone to see that interview number two was only 45 minutes away and made my way back onto the street.

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