So it’s the day after Christmas and that’s when all the really, really good sales begin. The Hubster and I made a trip to the mall, three of the four kids packed in the minivan for some shoes and a short jaunt to the shops to spend our respective gift cards. While shopping a caught of whiff of the Abercrombie store (yes; whiff, because they have their perfume blowing out of the vents, I’m sure of it) and remembered I wanted to get a few items for Maxi Me, and, well…me, not because I’m a label whore–I could care less–but because Abercrombie & Fitch and Hollister (Abercrombie junior) have the softest shirts, sweats and sweat jackets I’ve ever worn. And since I work from home, dressing like a bedraggled college student during mid-term week is like a uniform for me. But I won’t pay $68 for a sweat jacket. But I’ll reconsider if they sell it to me for 50% off, especially if the material makes me feel like I’m wrapped in a blanket all day.
Entering Abercrombie is…well…weird if you’re an adult. The store is dimly lit, beautiful girls and guys you might have nursed if you were a teen mother, loud, strange, repetitive music, and like I mentioned, the signature Abercrombie perfume pumping out of the air vents. Mike (The Hubster) can’t stomach it. He just won’t even go in. We also had the kids, and it was a very real possibility one of them might have been lost forever in one of those dark corners. I was able to get a few things for Maxi Me, because her size is easy. She’s “Abercrombie Small,” which is like an extra, extra small every place else. I am not “Abercrombie Small,” and my clothing choices would require more time to ascertain, so I of course had to return to the mall (alone) after dinner.
After much deliberation and a couple trips to the fitting room, turns out I’m “Abercrombie Medium.” So I got my pile of loot and took it to the counter where I saw this beautiful creature…
Meet Justin-I-think-that’s-his-name. He’s 22 and stands over six feet. When I see him he’s just finishing up one of the those that retail workers love, when somebody who shouldn’t be shopping there buys half the store in hopes to one day he’ll look cool enough to shop there. He looks over at me, I shift my feet a little, because I have a pile too, but not nearly as big. I wonder if he thinks I’m going through some mid-life crisis so I blurt out, “You know, I only shop here twice a year, because the end of the season is when you have the best sales. I’m not really into the name inasmuch I just like the high quality cotton. I work from home,” I finish, awkwardly. “This is how I dress most of the time.”
I’m sure that what he asks next is out of politeness. “Really? What do you do?”
“I’m a writer and I run a blog.” I always sort of dread the next logical question, because it requires some explaining.
“Whoa, cool! What kind of blog is it?”
“Uh…well, it’s themed around, you know…relationships. Mostly interracial relationships, because I started the blog when I got this book deal and…”
“Oh wow,” he said. “That’s interesting. I went out on a date once with a black girl, and it was strange, all the looks we got.”
Then it dawned on me. BLOG TOPIC! I put my iPhone to good use and recorded what he said for your personal consumption.
Notice which group gave him the hardest time? Hmmm…let’s discuss.