I am chock full of virtue this evening. You may admire me. I have not only done three loads of laundy, cleaned up two instances of cat barf, organized the sock drawer, and cut my bangs, but I worked in a 45 minute power shop at Nordstrom's, all after work.
I used to love Nordstrom's. It was the high end department store in Seattle when I was growing up. I got into big trouble with my mom for using her charge card there to buy myself a pair of big, burly, orange leather, chunk-heeled Frye boots in 1975. I wore those boots out; I still had them as late as 1985 but they finally fell apart. The point is, Nordstrom's gave me access to fashion despite my general inability to discern what looks good on me. I bought many treasured additions to my closet over the years and I used to rely on Nordy's to be, if not on the cutting edge, then affordably edgy.
Boy, have things changed.
It's really hard to find anything I like at the Stanford Mall location which is the closest Nordstrom's by a good 30 miles. Everything is so bland and safe! The shoe department in the city used to kick heinie but even they have succumbed to mindless offerings of perhaps 10 shoe styles in 50 different brands. I've been in and out of Nordstrom's for the last eight months without buying anything more exciting than a plain white t-shirt and some Stila eye makeup. Big woo. I wonder where the great buyers went? Whomever was hired to replace those stylish 80's fashion mavens is tiresomely devoted to the least attractive knock-offs of last year's designer. And I'm not the only one who thinks so; I'm not just sentimentalizing my youth or something. Everyone I talk to about it agrees Nordy's has lost something essential. So when I stopped by right after work today I had absolutely no expectations of finding anything to wear.
The store was a little thin of customers although it was only 6:30pm. I dashed upstairs to look for some shorts, planning to mooch disconsolantly through a dozen size XS racks in hopes of an elusive XL. Surprisingly, there were two racks of XL shorts and tops. On sale, even. I snagged one pair of dressy shorts in a dusty gold linen, two matching tops, and a plain cream t-shirt (hey, their tees last forever and I ditched all my lightweight stuff from Nashville in a fit of spite). Then I spied a gorgeous pair of crepe and rayon palazzo pants across the aisle. Danger! Palazzo pants make most women look like circus performers. But I couldn't resist at least looking. They were a beautiful deep green, not dark but olivine, with a distinctively Japanese floral design in cream and rust and a complimentary paler green looping across the material. I fell in love. I tried them on. They didn't make me look like a clown. They made me look sensational. They were astonishly expensive. Pause for a huge intake of breath as I contemplated eating every other day for the next two weeks to compensate.
I bought them anyway. The hell with it. I don't find pants that make me look sensational more than once every two years, you know? I bought the shorts, too. And downstairs, with only 15 minutes to go before John picked me up, I selected, tried on, had fitted with pads, and purchased a lovely pair of golden brown court shoes in lush suede. I rushed outside at 7:15 just as John arrived. Ta da! Power shopping with Lucy. I've now made a serious dent in my charge card but I'm going to feel like a million when I wear those pants and those shoes. I find these kinds of purchases always turn out for the best. There are times you just know you should spend the big bucks and get exactly what you want.
Now I suppose it'll be another eight months before I find something at Nordstrom's again.
