I am a shallow woman, I admit it. I am in love with a store. The first time I walked into Anthropologie I almost collapsed with excitement. Here was a store that was speaking to all of my fantasy selves. I wanted to live there. I wanted to place whimsical trinkets in a delicate porcelain dish while brushing my teeth with Italian toothpaste. I imagined myself flitting around in embroidered lounge wear planning dinner parties with mismatched painted dishes, jotting down notes notes in a parchment paper notebook embossed with birds. Alas, I don’t have an Anthropologie budget. This week, however, I received an email announcing that Anthropologie was having a mega sale. This morning from 8-11 AM, sale items would be reduced by a further 50%. I could hardly breathe.
The week was spent visiting their website, gazing adoringly at a blouse I was lusting after, a loose frayed looking number with deer along the hem. “Soon you will be mine and we will be together forever,” I whispered to the computer screen. I checked on my beloved every day. I have not been able to wake up early for months to go to the gym or a yoga class. Inevitably I hit the snooze button until I finally give up and go back to sleep. Obviously I never had the right motivation. I can’t get up for my cardiovascular health or spiritual growth, but this morning I was up at 6:30 AM.
The store was already teeming with crazed women jostling for space when I arrived. “I guess other people got the email too!” I quipped to the woman edging me out of her way in order to get at little dishes featuring gilded raccoons. She ignored me, her eye on the prize. The air was thick with tension, everyone was on a mission and no one was willing to concede space .
I dashed for where I had last seen my coveted blouse. It was gone. I frantically searched among the racks, sweating in my heavy coat, hands trembling and feeling panicked as other women more aggressive than I held their ground and refused to move. I scanned the line ups at the cash and the dressing rooms, certain that someone was clutching my blouse. Nothing. It was gone. My deer dreams were dashed, gone forever.
I walked out defeated and empty handed. Once I was away from the chaos my head began to clear and my hands stopped shaking. Breathing the crisp air and having space again calmed me. I didn’t have to fight anyone. Now there would be time to go to the gym since I wouldn’t be putting on a fashion show for myself. I bought a bagel for an inventive panhandler with an empty cup tied to a stick like a fishing pole. He called me Miss and bobbed his cup at me.
It turned out to be a good morning, even without a deer blouse.