Jannie Has to Go Clothes Shopping! - September 25, 2020
I would rather go to the dentist than go shopping for clothes. OK, it helps that lately every time I’ve seen our dentist – Dr. Virgulti – he assures me my chompers are in good shape. And he’s never actually had to do any dental work on me.
Still…
When it comes to the amount of clothing I have, I’m a minimalist. Two winter dresses, two summer dresses, two pairs of pants, two pairs of shorts, two short sleeved t shirts, two long sleeved t shirts, etc.
It sounds virtuous, but it’s not. I have an absolute phobia about going into a clothing store. I change up my wardrobe – at a max – every four years. And only then because my clothes are becoming noticeably frayed or my body has “changed shape.”
And I can’t plan ahead what day or time of day this difficult journey will happen. It has to be a “pop-up” sort of event. For example, this last time, a friend I was going to have coffee with (socially distanced and outside) had to cancel. Someone she had been in contact with got a covid diagnosis.
So here I was sitting on the couch. Jasper had been returned home. I had two hours not spoken for. My top was permanently stained. My jeans were too tight. Off I went.
And I knew exactly where to go. This will sound like an advertisement, but the only place I ever buy clothes in person is Marks. Why? It’s only two blocks away. And they always have at least one woman working there who subs as an “emotional support person.”
I walked in, gooed up my hands with sanitizer, adjusted my mask, and approached the front desk with fear and trembling. “I need to buy two pairs of jeans. I truly don’t know where to look or how to size. And I hate clothes shopping…” And I would have continued but Stacy (not her real name) smiled and interrupted me and said, “I have just the person for you!” And she called Barb (not her real name) – and a pretty woman with a beaming smile and a really neat dressed-down outfit came over.
Barb said, “I’d love to help you.” And she led me over to the jeans. So many decisions to make that I just couldn’t. Waist type, brand, leg style, colour… If Barb hadn’t been standing between me and the door, I would have bolted. (I joke about were she was standing. I’m not joking about wanting to bolt.)
Then she said, “Does it have to be jeans?” “Heh?” I asked, “What else could it be?” And she responded, “Chinos.” I had honestly never heard that word before. I had her repeat it a few times. And then she brought me to the section of the store that had chinos. I rubbed the fabric between my fingers. I honestly felt like I was in that scene where Helen Keller discovers that the word w-a-t-e-r refers to cool, flowing liquid.
I said to her, “This is it!” It took a while to find my size. For a variety of reasons. The main one is that I have an idea of what my “number” is and if the clothing that fits me isn’t that number, then it doesn’t feel right. She laughed and said, “You are just like my mother. And you know what I say to my mother!? If it fits you, don’t worry about the number.” I feel like she had given me sage advice.
It took an hour of fully occupying this amazing Barb, but I managed to pick up two pairs of pants, two tee shirts, and two longer sleeved shirts. I also wanted to buy two pairs of shorts but apparently summer is over – though I could try online. This option does not usually work for me. I find there is so much discrepancy between what I measure myself to be and what shows up and doesn’t fit. I know how to return to Amazon. I don’t know how to return to Mark’s. Hmm.. I intentionally plan one educational project every year to generate new neural pathways. I suppose this could be “the one.”
I apologized to Barb for keeping her hostage for any hour. I could see she had stacks of work in the form of clothing to be shelved that she needed to attend to. She smiled and said, “That’s what I’m here for…” And then I said, “Oh! I also need hiking shoes!” And she said, “I’ve got just the gal for you!” and pointed me to the smiling Francine. (Not her real name either.)
I had arrived at the store at 2:15. It was now 3:15. I had told myself “I can do this for an hour.” My brain fog was rolling in. I had to do this fast. I said to Francine, “I’m looking for a pair of hiking shoes – preferably on sale.” She pointed to some Merrells and said, “These are on sale for half-price.” I said, “I’ll take them!” She looked at me curiously and said, “What size?!” Oh right! The size 8s fit just fine and off I went to the front desk to pay.
Barb was there at the front desk momentarily, and Stacey processed my order. As I walked out with my parcels, smiling, and waving goodbye, I felt like I was graduating. Maybe kindergarten. But there was a feeling of a job well done.
I have visions of these women rolling the door shut and locking it the minute I exited. And reassuring each other than I won’t be back for another four years. And that maybe – just maybe – I’ll figure how to shop Mark’s online.
Still…
When it comes to the amount of clothing I have, I’m a minimalist. Two winter dresses, two summer dresses, two pairs of pants, two pairs of shorts, two short sleeved t shirts, two long sleeved t shirts, etc.
It sounds virtuous, but it’s not. I have an absolute phobia about going into a clothing store. I change up my wardrobe – at a max – every four years. And only then because my clothes are becoming noticeably frayed or my body has “changed shape.”
And I can’t plan ahead what day or time of day this difficult journey will happen. It has to be a “pop-up” sort of event. For example, this last time, a friend I was going to have coffee with (socially distanced and outside) had to cancel. Someone she had been in contact with got a covid diagnosis.
So here I was sitting on the couch. Jasper had been returned home. I had two hours not spoken for. My top was permanently stained. My jeans were too tight. Off I went.
And I knew exactly where to go. This will sound like an advertisement, but the only place I ever buy clothes in person is Marks. Why? It’s only two blocks away. And they always have at least one woman working there who subs as an “emotional support person.”
I walked in, gooed up my hands with sanitizer, adjusted my mask, and approached the front desk with fear and trembling. “I need to buy two pairs of jeans. I truly don’t know where to look or how to size. And I hate clothes shopping…” And I would have continued but Stacy (not her real name) smiled and interrupted me and said, “I have just the person for you!” And she called Barb (not her real name) – and a pretty woman with a beaming smile and a really neat dressed-down outfit came over.
Barb said, “I’d love to help you.” And she led me over to the jeans. So many decisions to make that I just couldn’t. Waist type, brand, leg style, colour… If Barb hadn’t been standing between me and the door, I would have bolted. (I joke about were she was standing. I’m not joking about wanting to bolt.)
Then she said, “Does it have to be jeans?” “Heh?” I asked, “What else could it be?” And she responded, “Chinos.” I had honestly never heard that word before. I had her repeat it a few times. And then she brought me to the section of the store that had chinos. I rubbed the fabric between my fingers. I honestly felt like I was in that scene where Helen Keller discovers that the word w-a-t-e-r refers to cool, flowing liquid.
I said to her, “This is it!” It took a while to find my size. For a variety of reasons. The main one is that I have an idea of what my “number” is and if the clothing that fits me isn’t that number, then it doesn’t feel right. She laughed and said, “You are just like my mother. And you know what I say to my mother!? If it fits you, don’t worry about the number.” I feel like she had given me sage advice.
It took an hour of fully occupying this amazing Barb, but I managed to pick up two pairs of pants, two tee shirts, and two longer sleeved shirts. I also wanted to buy two pairs of shorts but apparently summer is over – though I could try online. This option does not usually work for me. I find there is so much discrepancy between what I measure myself to be and what shows up and doesn’t fit. I know how to return to Amazon. I don’t know how to return to Mark’s. Hmm.. I intentionally plan one educational project every year to generate new neural pathways. I suppose this could be “the one.”
I apologized to Barb for keeping her hostage for any hour. I could see she had stacks of work in the form of clothing to be shelved that she needed to attend to. She smiled and said, “That’s what I’m here for…” And then I said, “Oh! I also need hiking shoes!” And she said, “I’ve got just the gal for you!” and pointed me to the smiling Francine. (Not her real name either.)
I had arrived at the store at 2:15. It was now 3:15. I had told myself “I can do this for an hour.” My brain fog was rolling in. I had to do this fast. I said to Francine, “I’m looking for a pair of hiking shoes – preferably on sale.” She pointed to some Merrells and said, “These are on sale for half-price.” I said, “I’ll take them!” She looked at me curiously and said, “What size?!” Oh right! The size 8s fit just fine and off I went to the front desk to pay.
Barb was there at the front desk momentarily, and Stacey processed my order. As I walked out with my parcels, smiling, and waving goodbye, I felt like I was graduating. Maybe kindergarten. But there was a feeling of a job well done.
I have visions of these women rolling the door shut and locking it the minute I exited. And reassuring each other than I won’t be back for another four years. And that maybe – just maybe – I’ll figure how to shop Mark’s online.