I don't know about what you girls do in the fitting rooms! But boy! I do a lot of things: especially a tone of faces in the mirror, that I make sure to document accordingly. Some call me Narcissus. I call me...me. Just me: authentic, plain, artist me. Now, I know how frustrating it is to wait for someone to finish their turn in their fitting rooms, and how annoying to see their legs moving in there, while you impatiently gaze at your watch and roll your eyes over. I bet I was the cause of disenchantment for many pairs of eyes that I successfully caused to be rolled over and for many ladies wishing me "well". I always fill my shopping cart with enough special gowns, that if tied together they would exceed Jack's beanstalk and get me to the moon. Hopefully I'll stay there. I read somewhere how a 40 years old wished she had documented her life a lot better while in her 20's, and since mirrors are magical portals, I make sure I don't stay away from them. Right? What better way to document your life?? ( and make sure you back up your data if you use an Apple product, you never know when they ask you to install a faulty iOS and you lose everything in your device - such as iOS 11.2.1 that fries your battery and apps; speaking of this- dear Apple- how about you announce your customers in a timely manner to prepare for back up our data, prior to install any lousy software? if you constantly nag your customers to install a new iOS, is only fair that you nag us about securing our data as well).
Yeah, exactly: f*** u Apple!
And now the monologue of a skirt.
I saw it in an outlet store in Bucharest, that oddly enough brings in items from the new fashion season, the trick is, there is only one product available from each model, so if it fits, is for the keeps! Ladies generally get into each other's hairs in there. Knowing all these parameters, I really don't know how I let the skirt slip away from my hands. I went home and slept with it on my mind. Obsessively on my mind. I imagined myself wearing it all over again. Before I left the store, I hid the skirt under a pile of other skirts from a relatively unknown Greek brand called Axel. My skirt was from Jfree, a Turkish brand: a high waist, pencil, knee length, white, with healthy sized grey, horizontal stripes on it. You could wear it daily with a pair of sneakers/toms/ whatever.
The following day I rushed to get it. No surprise right? I was still reminiscing how good my booty looked in it, though like any visual creature on this planet, my pupils are often struck with any juxtaposition available in the streets. On my way to the store I stopped for taking pictures of some haunting, covered in mold buildings, placed right next to the glass institutions of a multinational complex called West Gate. Frankly, I don't know how possible it is, for people to live and breath in the damn mold, and overlook from their poor communist balconies, the size of a match, right into the luxurious buildings park, from which only a fence separates them. Only in Brazil have I seen this stark contrast in living standards. And I am always disgusted by it.
But then, of course I remembered my purpose of finding the hidden skirt from the other day so I headed straight to the 3 stories outlet where the apple of my eyes was laying all alone and waiting for me. To my dismay, there were very few people in there, but there were new items added as well, so I browsed through them before heading to the first floor where my skirt was waiting. ( I might have lost some 5 minutes to my competition..). Once there, I see this 70 years old grandma, speeding through the relatively unknown Axel Brand, grabbing everything from that pile, and when I look better, I see my pencil, high waist, white skirt, on top of everything she has gathered for herself. I had to collect myself for the battle. Within seconds I imagined how she would maybe distance herself from her shopping cart and I could maybe...just maybe..snap my beloved item from there. There is an expression in Romanian called: " my face has fallen off" to describe a moment of complete and utter unexpected reaction in front of an expected event. Well....my face has fallen off, and as I was putting it back on, I decided to follow the grandma through the store, while pretending I am also searching for more items.
She goes to the shoes 'district'. I go after her. "Maybe the old Cinderella tries a new glass shoe", I think to myself, and she forgets about her shopping cart. Nope. She is fierce: grabs the shoes, throws them back in, I could hear her clamping through the store. She was wearing a pair of sneakers but she was so noisy you could hear her from any given point of planet Earth. Or maybe my senses were suddenly turned on, on my animal side. I tried to focus to get some stuff for me, so not to seem I am chasing her. I found a few things, including another high waist skirt, when the clamping began again: this time, on the stairs up towards the fitting rooms.
I literally ran! When I made it to the fitting rooms, I caught a glimpse of an old blond grandma pulling the curtain of her fitting room, so I plunged right into the next one. I was down on my knees looking under the fitting room when I realized that is not the grandma I was searching for. Old people have a habit of looking alike and you can only distinguish them by their size and hair color. This new grandma was obese. The grandma I was after had only 3 rounds of bellies to boast about, and a floppy ass. Damn, what was she doing anyway with a high waist, pencil, white skirt, sized 38?? I figured that maybe she had a niece or something...but ...no. I jumped out of the wrong fitting room, tried to guess which one of the busy fitting rooms was the one I was after. I somehow correctly identified my old thief in there, and placed myself into the adjacent fitting room. Voila!
I almost burst into laughter: I was hunkered, looking from underneath the mirror of my fitting room, and all I could see were the grandma's sneakers moving from the front to the lateral, contemplating herself, with the jeans lowered down to her ankles. I could guess is my skirt she was trying on, from all the ragged pile she brought with herself in there. I didn't finish my thought and I see my white, pencil, high waist baby skirt, virulently thrown on the ground, and stepped on, by a malicious semi obese wild 70 years old witch. If I could only stretch my hand a little...just a little...I said to myself...than bam! grandma lifts the skirt up with her leg. Completely uninterested by the cloths I was having with me in my fitting room, I tried something from Ann Taylor. It did not match my size. I heard the old hag retreating like a crab, causing all coat hangers to fall off. Ok..she's leaving. I exit the fitting room, hoping for a miracle. The witch had a pile of cloths in her right hand, and my skirt in her left. High hopes flushed through me: the desk where you can leave what you do not wish to buy, is on the left side. Guess what she leaves? In a mambo twist, she moves my baby on the right, and she throws away whatever ragged pile she was having in her left. She descends with my sexy white high waist, pencil skirt, that I can hear crying at me to save it from a life of barring a floppy 70 years old virulent ass. I descended to the cash points as well, following my treasure. While there, I automatically grabbed more skirts. I could see the grandma enviously looking at the items I have gathered. She looks at the white pencil skirt...then she looks back at my skirts. An impulse of proposing her an exchange deal flutters through my stomach, but just like in acting, if you lose the moment of timely reaction, all is lost. And she does not seem to be willing for an exchange. She just quickly analyzes what I have and goes in to search similar things. She is not successful and frowns. Judging by her speed, I figured that if I put down anything I have in my hands, I stand the risk of losing them as well. The old witch would for sure jump to get them.
Sometimes, when you have too much questions that you don't ask, you stand the risk of making up your own answers to those questions. And you will still have a lot of things to look at. Well..I had just one thing to look at: the old witch buying my white high waist skirt and departing with it into the unknown, slowly building her own beanstalk. Hopefully her virulence won't be back to clamp in my favorite store. As for me, don't worry, I found yet another high waist skirt...
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