The Mall
My office is located close to a mall, and last night I decided to go after work. I am in the market for some plain black dress shoes, and maybe some pants.
As soon as I got to the there, I knew it was a mistake. Throngs of teenagers were roaming around in an old-making way. I ate some food court food. It came in a styrofoam container, and I'm still imagining it choking some sea turtle somewhere. The merch was either slutty, overpriced, or unflattering. I tried on a few things and they fit poorly. Worse, I took a look at myself in the scary full-length dressing room mirror, under the scary dressing room lighting, and had a minor meltdown about a mole on my back (has it become more irregularly shaped since the last time I looked at it - which was, who knows, maybe last year?) and a visible vein on the back of my leg (is it revolting? are my days of skirt-wearing numbered?).
Also: fashion designers of America? Lots of us are not pregnant. So could you please, please make some tops that aren't fitted right under the bustline?
It's so confusing - one would think the mall would entice us to stay and buy, rather than leaving with a bad mood and no stuff.
Posted by Dori at 9:27 AM
8 Comments
The mall is evil! Especially the very unflattering dressing room lights and mirrors. Yet, I have some fond memories from when I was a preteen. How is that?
I don't really know whom the target customer is right now, but I am certain I am not it. It seems everything is skanky or old lady-ish. Add that to the fact that I am far heavier than I prefer and it makes shopping less than fun. That's why I love to shop on the internet.
Nothing hurtles me into a deep depression more than the mall. Its cleanliness, elegance and sterility are almost freakish. The shoppers are clones, gliding around the polished floors, seeking to fill the void in their hearts with overpriced merchandise made in sweatshops by Indonesian children.
The mall also makes me desperately nostalgic for my youth, so it cuts both ways.
It lures and repels me and makes me feel left out.
Also, I can't believe that I've never heard a story of a woman committing suicide in a mall dressing room.
Hi Dori,
This is why I opt for going only to Ann Taylor Loft and the little boutiques nearby in downtown Evanston. I don't know what they do to make everyone look so awful in chain store dressing rooms! I hate 'em.
Love,
Anne
Ugh, I know. I have one reliable mall store, but I always make the grave mistake of venturing into other stores, and before you know it, I'm hungry and grumpy and surrounded by a pile of ill-fitting disappointment, or worse, waiting in line to try on some more. Luckily, I *heart* second-hand stores ...
I feel that way every time I go to the mall. I hate the mall.
God, I hate the bloody mall too. It's a recipe for depression and self-loathing. I'll take thrift stores over the mall any day. Not that their dressing-room mirrors are any kinder to my dimples, but you know.
Amen on the prego looking shirts and please can we have some shirts that have actual sleeves and not the tiny cap sleeves that let all the flab hang out and wiggle/jiggle all to hell!
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