In “Humans At The Movies,” That Kind Of Girl examines some of the film and TV tropes that define our ideas of what it means to be human. Absurdly high-stakes poker game, anyone?
The Role: The kind of glitzy, frivolous shopaholic who commands an army of store employees to hold her Birkin while she tries on half of the inventory. Think Elle Woods in Legally Blonde, Cher in Clueless, or, um, everybody in Real Housewives of Orange County.
The Actor: My relationship with shopping is fraught. On the one hand: ooooh, shiny! On the other: when I actually take the time to buy clothes in a brick-and-mortar store, some combination of the inconvenience, a sense of extravagance, and all the usual body-image woes tend to send me scuttling into the corner dressing room and rebuffing all the sales staff’s helpful advances.
The Scene: Nordstrom’s in my local galleria, on a sparkling Sunday morning. The store was surprisingly empty — side effects of the recession? Or, more likely, the Ladies Who Lunch were still brunching — so the moment I sashayed in, the saleswoman started a-fawnin’.
My objective for the day: an ensemble for a friend’s wedding. My usual approach would be to grab anything remotely my size from the sales racks and barricade myself in fitting-room Siberia. Instead, when the saleswoman asked what I was looking at, I crowed, “Cocktail dresses. All of ‘em.”
The saleswoman started skipping through the racks and loading dresses in my arms like I was a hot air balloon in danger of floating away. When the sequins started skimming my chin, she gave a little gasp of self-reproach. “But of course we’ll get you started in a room!” she simpered. “I’ll bring in more.”
Cue half an hour of beads and sequins, froth and frippery. Only once during the sartorial orgy did I accidentally glimpse a price tag. Holy frig, guys. Apparently there is a whole new digits place that I didn’t know about.
As I narrowed it down to two choices, the salesgirl called in a seamstress to help make the selection. The two women’s hands flew deftly over my ensemble, tucking here and tightening there — adding womanly little touches to me, as though I were a sloppily appointed end table. The whole time, they cooed (“This compliments your gorgeous curls!” “Oh, your skin is just glowing!”), and after a moment I just closed my eyes and let their voices wash away my frizzy curls and pasty skin.
If you promise people money, they pretend to love you.
I knew in reality I would have to settle for the cheaper of the dresses (and scrimp to buy it, no less), but when the salesgirl offered to fetch a pair of stilettos so I could see the dress with a little height, I didn’t hesitate. The shoes cost more than my couch. And I enjoyed every twirl in them.
The Review: If I had the fiscal means to pull off this movie cliché every day, then — well, I’d be BlackBerrying this post from the dressing room of my local Armani outlet, for starters. As for real-life application, though, I think this role is as fabulous to slip into as that delicious silk sundress. Being fussed over every once in a while is as harmless as it is exhilarating. And even when your budget is more Charlotte Russe than Chanel, at least take employees up on their offers to grab you a different size or a few more styles. It helps take the sting out of angsting about your underarm jiggle.
Photo Credits
Shopaholic’s Closet © pinkamby
Recent That Kind Of Girl Articles:
- The Commander-In-Chief of Your Heart
- How To Make Someone You Love Stop Doing Something You Hate
- Trial By Ice
- In Defense of the Hostess
- Putting Down the Imaginary Dog
- NaNoWriMo: Pass the Prom Dress, ‘Cause Mama’s Got a Novel to Write
- Instructions for Being a Decent Human Being: A Work In Progress
- Musings From The First 100 Miles
- Politely Powerless: When Self-Defense Fails
- Urban Solace in the Neighborhood Corner Store
Hey That Kind Of Girl, great to see you here at Life As A Human! And props for being able to walk in stilettos. I would have fallen over and caught the heel in the dress, ripping it to shreds.
Thanks for the warm welcome! And, dude, that’s my greatest fear: accidentally shredding a dress and being forced to pay for it in its unwearable state. Knowing my luck, it won’t actually happen ’til the day I go wedding-gown shopping.
I got stuck in a dress once and almost had to cut it off. It was incredibly embarrassing.
Oh man, that reminds me of one of my bff’s mother’s friends, who tried on a several-thousand-dollar gown at a Versace store on Rodeo Drive, then ended up passing out in the dress. After she didn’t respond for a while, the store called in the police, and everyone kept trying to make her take it off so she could go to the hospital, but she refused because she wasn’t wearing underwear. All class, right?
That kind of girl, what a great addition to life as a human! Great story!!!
I’m going to check out your site now, which is nice.
Nice column, dear. I must say I am so pleased about the prospect of shopping for a wedding gown.
My favorite television program is “Say Yes To The Dress” and I have become an “expert” wedding gown shopper at Kleinfeld’s in NYC. Will you go for “mermaid,” “princess,” or contemporary?
I might pull an Alexis Stewart and get married in a suit, just to irritate my mother!
excellent. I feel bad getting their hopes up, but I feel worse when I look at the price tag. I don’t think they do this as much for men though, more’s the pity.
I also feel kind of guilty, but I was looking to make a purchase, and I was willing to spend at least a few hundred dollars, which is pretty big for me. Had it been a slow day, though, I don’t think I’d have had the nerve to eat their time.
Another great post from TKOG! Awesome you’re now on LAAH.
I always find on the days I need something I find nothing and all the other times, I love everything.
It sounds as though you lucked out and found a great dress and killer heels….
NIce!!! I’ve never really done that, but the mental image of cocktail dresses a mile high was amusing and drool-worthy.
This sounds like we do clothes shopping the same way normally; go and buy 2 new pairs of jeans, and a few shirts. Job jobbed?
Yup. I’m generally a totally functional shopper. I got all of my “shopping for funsies!” out of my system when I was 17. A girl can only try on so many pairs of pink high heels! (And I tried on so many pairs of pink high heels…)
Oh, this sounds fun. I’m way too poor to pull it off though. I think I would just feel guilty.