shopping with alexander (lyn)

It’s 82 degrees and sunny.  Summer is prolonging its stay.  I meet Alexander at Bloomingdales; he needs a black belt.  They are having a sale (well, they are always having a sale).  Some clothes are 40% off already reduced prices.  Others are 50% off the second item if you buy two.  And then there is the escalated savings plan: spend $200 and get 20% off, $500 and get 25% off, etc.  There is a dizzying array of options for saving money.  I am not good in this kind of situation.

But my son is the perfect foil.  He has zero patience for shopping.

We start with a search for the belt.  We are told that belts are in several places, spanning two floors. At our first stop, Alexander finds a belt he likes.  I suggest we also check out the belts on another floor.  “Why? I like this belt.  Why do I have to look any more?”  I know I’ll not be able to convince him that looking can be fun, but he humors me and we go to the other floor.  We both like the belt from the first department best, and he wisely doesn’t taunt me with, “See?  I told you!”

We pass a gorgeous baby blue Burberry cashmere scarf. I pick it up and ask him what he thinks.  “It’s okay.  Yeah, I guess I like it.  But I already have two scarves and I really don’t wear them that much.”  I put it down.  I see a winter jacket that would be perfect for those cold walks to class.  “I don’t want to shop for coats.  We can do that over Thanksgiving.”  We pass beautiful sweaters.  He isn’t even tempted. He has a great build and wears clothes well.  There is so much I want to buy him.

I remember being his age and being able to eat everything too.  I was always thin and clothes always looked good on me.  But I don’t ever remember shopping with my mother and her offering to buy me just about anything I wanted.  She probably knew I’d want too much.  Alexander is lucky, though he doesn’t see it that way. He likes dressing well, but dislikes the shopping process.  He needs a personal shopper.  Someone who knows his style and who also owns a custom-fit mannequin of his exact body shape and dimensions (so there is never a need to try clothes on). 

I don’t accumulate enough to qualify for any discounts.  But that’s okay.  I leave Bloomingdales unscathed. I went in for one black belt and came out with one black belt.  And, I walked (according to my Fitbit) over five miles.