There was a time when I loved the mall. Really loved it.
The problem is, this particular time in my life was about thirty years ago.
The mall has changed.
My daughter needed a few things last weekend: a pair of jeans, a birthday present for a friend, and a pair of shoes. Simple enough, I thought…we’ll just hit the mall.
Where hard-earned money goes to die.
There are more types of makeup, brushes and facial cleansers in this store than there are ugly polyester pants at Sears. Products I’ve never even heard of before.
Clearly I am not their target market, with my Maybelline mascara and Wet and Wild concealer. The salesperson who dared to come up behind me and ask, “Have you ever used the BeneTint before?” was visibly shaken when I turned around and displayed my late-forties, barely-made-up face. She quickly made a beeline for the trophy wife who just entered the store.
Abercrombie & Fitch
Or my new name for it, Pornography & Fitch.
There are two Abercrombie stores at our mall: the kid one, and the adult one. This was one of the only times I have set foot into the adult store, and I was immediately attacked with display ad images I wanted to cover with my coat.
The worst offender was a full-sized perfume ad that showed a completely naked dude from the side (all the way down to his knees) against the back of a topless chick in the process of pulling off her jeans. Seriously, is the perfume that crappy that they need the porn to sell it? If I had those images on my computer, they would be considered porn. But life-sized in a store that caters to the 13 – 22 year old crowd, it’s fine. I am no prude by any means, but it really bothered me that my daughter would see that and think it was OK.
And don’t get me started on the lace shorts that looked suspiciously like underwear, but were being marketed as shorts. Um, no.
And for our third stop?
Also known as Life’s a Beach Every Stinkin’ Day of the Year in Here.
I’ve become a semi-regular at Hollister these past two years, now that my daughter is old enough to wear their clothes. I pretend to look at the cute sweaters and tanks, but it’s quite obvious to the staff I am only there to provide the credit card once the cute clothes are chosen.
I try and fade into the background, but one time this tactic resulted in me being squirted with that hideous fragrance they spray on the clothes. Yes, they spray it directly onto the clothes…I’ve seen them. The vibe in Hollister is so beachy I’m tempted to bring my towel and take a nap next time we shop.
I am never asked if I’m finding everything OK in Hollister because it’s painfully obvious I’m not the one doing the finding.
And their friendly greeting when you come in, “Hey, how’s it goin’?” is painful to respond to. I decided next time I will say, “Well, it’s goin’ pretty good except for that bunion I just had removed and the unexplained heartburn and gas I’ve been experiencing.”
I suppose the proper payback would be to drag my daughter to Chicos? Pretty sure they don’t have any soft porn ad campaigns.