I don’t like to shop. Well, let me clarify that. I don’t like to shop discount. Yes, hippie-enviro-chick is admitting to her inner princess.
Today, in a quest for that most elusive yet most important of ALL clothing items, I went to Goody’s and TJ Maxx, as recommended by my friend Nancy, who does like to shop. I had never been to Goody’s and my palms started sweating the second I passed through the glass door. Nervously, I approached the racks. Searching, searching, ah–a sign–”Denim Nation” clued me in. Yes, the elusive but necessary jeans in multiple shades of blue awaited.
Daunted by the sheer numbers, I began flipping hangers. Then I noticed the sizing. Typically, I wear a 6 or an 8, depending on the pants. For some reason, these jeans were sized in odd numbers. I thought well, 7 is between 6 and 8, perhaps it will be perfect. But no, the 7s were too tight, while the 9s were too loose, although one of the 7s was too loose and one of the 9s was too tight. Got that?
And the array of designs? Staggering. Sequins, stiching, cut, rise, appliques, pockets, labeling–all different, all confusing.
Here’s what I want in a pair of jeans: low rise (but not so low that I have to, ummmm, shave); full coverage behind (maybe when I was 20 my butt crack was cute, but these days I’m trying not to embarrass my kids too often); slimming effect (lift the behind, flatten the pooch); boot or flare cut (thank god pencil-thin jeans are “out”–I never could get them over my Wonder Woman calves); length appropriate for a 5′6″ woman (the one pair of jeans I have now are frayed at the heels from dragging the floor); oh, and priced at $50 or less. I’d settle for half of these specifications. Clearly, I am asking waaaaay too much.
Okay, I’ll admit, I gave up after trying only about six pairs at Goody’s and five pairs at TJ Maxx, but I was completely demoralized.
So on the drive home, I fantasized my ideal jeans quest:
EM walks into clean, well-lit, spacious boutique. No one is there. Then, like a genie popping from a bottle, an adorable gay man appears.
“Hi, Jonathan,” I say.
“EM,” he says. “You look fabulous! Oh my god. Turn around.”
I twirl, then receive air kisses on both cheeks from Jonathan.
“O, those boots are to die for, girl,” he says.
“These?” I look incredulous. “Just a little something I picked up last time I was in the city.”
“Fab,” says Jonathan. “Now you need some jeans, don’t you? I knew just from the look on your face.”
Turning, he sashays over to a shelf where perfectly folded jeans glisten in the amber glow of the recessed lighting. Running a finger down the stack, he plucks out a pair, like a magician pulling a card from a deck, without even rustling the razor-sharp arrangement.
“Try these on,” says Jonathan. “And don’t take off the boots.”
I enter the vanilla-scented dressing room and pull the soft denim up my legs, wiggling it over my derriere. I zip, I button. I strut out to stand in front of the three-way mirror. I smile at myself when I realize that the jeans have made my bod look like Kathy Ireland’s.
Jonathan whisks in, handing me a flute of sparkling wine.
“Just a little something to take the edge off.”
“Perfect, just perfect,” he says, examining me as I slowly turn, watching hawk-like for imperfections.
“Can you get me two more pair?” I finally say.
“Of course,” he replies. “Consider it done.”
We toast each other with our crystal glasses. The wine bubbles on my tongue.
“And,” says Jonathan. “I have two pima t-shirts in chocolate brown for you as well.”
I smile, feeling giddy with good will and well-fitting jeans. If only Jonathan weren’t gay.
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I prefer botique shopping too. *sigh* alas, I’m too poor and frugal for it.
I so feel your pain. I’ve heard very good things about the GAP Long and Lean Jean– I’m planning to check them out once I get over the $60 price tag.
My all time favorites are my Levis 519 Low Flare. Sadly, the pair that I am wearing right this moment are the *only* pair made this way:
Dear Levi Strauss,
What gives? Doesn’t it stand to reason that if I purchased several pair of your jeans in the *exact* same style, size and color that they should all fit *exactly* the same way? I found perfection in *one* pair of your low flare, style 519. Perhaps you should have labeled them as being the one and only pair that would actually be so comfortable I wouldn’t mind sleeping in them. The one pair that would sit on my hips just so. The one pair that was cut to fit my ass perfectly. The one pair *never* to be duplicated. You should be ashamed of yourself. Don’t you realize how many women search in vain for that one pair of jeans that completes them? A really good pair of jeans is harder to find than a really good man. And believe me, that’s saying something. Levi Strauss, you are a tease.
Oh Lu, we were separated at birth.
Alas….if Jonathan weren’t gay, he wouldn’t be able to do all the things he did in your “dream world”…..and he certainly wouldn’t care about helping you take the”edge off”. This sounds like a trip to Atlanta is in store for you and a “help” call to Libs and Woze. Sounds like you got the “hate to shop” gene from your Aunt Sally. Just show me where it is and I will buy it….but please don’t make me have to go and look for it!!!!
LUV U……
Since I’m the Madame of the Shopping Challenged, if I find a fit I stick with it. And try desperately to find an online source. So I never, ever have to go into those scarey dressing room stalls with florescent a la mortician. Oh man, this is making me shudder.
I wonder what Jonathan could do for me. Sigh… Nothing, methinks. Without a Jonathan to guide me I’m a hapless mess so I guess I’ll stick with my “hate shopping” habits and continue to look like I do. No, you don’t want to know… Pass the wine please. ~;^)
you know, EM, i had this problem once with finding the right ratchet set.
i went to one of those fancy Lowe’s and they treated me like a piece of meat, so i decided to show them. i set off on my sojourn.
i ended up at PawnWorld in Candler, the best damn blue collar boutique you can find around these parts. thank god for junior. he led me, like a groom to the altar, straight to the metric set meant for me.
i marveled at its precision. the ratchety clicks bespoke a clockwork precision that only a West Coast Choppers Jesse James could know.
i sucked in junior’s musky scent and when i looked up into his big brown eyes, he glanced away quickly and coughed. my hands quivered.
“This’ll do,” i told him, the understatement perfect for the moment, i thought.
when he offered to toss in a case of mossberg shells and a used screwdriver set for half price, i nearly wet my pants.
we toasted with a skoal pinch, the nicotine a full-bird colonel ordering a ruddy gush to every capillary in my face. junior rang me up.
“You come back and see us, hear?” His eyes narrowed as he patted the fleshy Iwana he’d tossed into the paperbag at the last minute.
i walked out and wondered what could have been. if only pawnshop guys were gay…
Pawn shops remind me of “Pulp Fiction”, which reminds me of Zed and the Gimp, which reminds me of….euwwww, I don’t even want to think about it. Stay out of pawnshops!
That is an incredibly elaborate and thought-out shopping fantasy.
Sometimes, you scare me…
OMG. Lu and Ash, yes! Get in the spirit. Respond, create, make me laugh. Yes.
Aunt Sally, you should comment more often.
Vicki and Foxy, clearly, I feel your pain.
SC, why do you think I had to become a writer? It was that or the psycho ward. Be afraid, be very afraid.
Ok I need Jonathan’s phone number and directions to this boutique.
Well thank God you don’t shop at the Lexington Queer Street filthy hippy shops! But your fantasy shop sounds too close to home for my liking.
I have it pretty bad RE: the length of pants, too. See, I’m 5′2″…so they ALL drag on the floor unless they are sized “short.”
Odd sizes are from the junior department, I believe.
I get frustrated with jeans because what happens is that I’ll find a pair I really like…on the clearance rack. And of course that means I’ll never see it again.
I also get frustrated with jeans because they shrink *coughs* No, not really. I just have gained weight. I have at the bottom of a drawer all these 2’s and 4’s I’ll never wear again as long as I live, and damn did they look adorable on me when I DID fit in them! Oh well.
I worked at the Gap my Sr. year of high school and into college. I was the master folder of jeans, and I KNOW that no two jeans are created equal. They are like snowflakes, so even when you know what you wear, you must take at least 4 pairs in to try on to see which one will fit best. That’s my rule of thumb.