| I'm depressed. You know how sometimes really stupid things can set you off, and just ruin everything? That's where I am now. Because of a pair of shoes. Now, shoes are not stupid things. Shoes are incredibly important things. The stupidity here is from me, because I should have expected it. Every August and, oh, April or something, we get the new Next catalogue. Next is a sort-of-department store; or rather, it is a department store, but with much less selection. For example, they might offer a sort of cool top in blue. And only in blue. There are no choices of colors. Same with shoes. If you like those brown boots, don't bother looking for black, because they don't have them. So it's more like a boutique. I generally dislike just about everything Next has to offer. The clothes are frumpy for the most part--lots of ruffly calf-length skirts, which swim on someone petite like me, lots of thick horizontally-striped sweaters, lots of shoes with thick low heels--or too fussy. A top I would otherwise like is in the wrong color, say, or has beading at the shoulders that ruins it. Next clothes are like the woman wearing just a little too much jewelry; had she just taken one piece off, it would have been fine. But we get the catalogues anyway, because I like catalogues. And I do occasionally see something I like. The other day I ordered a pair of black skinny jeans, because I am having an incredibly difficult time finding them in any stores, anywhere. And they sometimes have, like, three- or four-packs of tops for the girls at decent prices, and I'll order those. Anyway. The catalogue came a while back, and I flipped through it and found the most adorable pair of shoes. Seriously. Adorable. I fell in total instant lust. And--here's the stupid part--I thought "I better order those now." And I didn't. I just didn't get around to it. So the other night I placed an order. Some pajamas for the girls. The aforementioned skinny jeans. And I went to order the shoes. SOLD OUT. Yes, I know. For whatever reason, supplies at Next sell out. They order a certain number and that's it; they can't be bothered to provide any actual Customer Service and, you know, call the manufacturer and place another order, seeing as how the catalogue only arrived five or six weeks ago and it's supposed to be good until spring of next year. (A further example of their stunning Customer Service is that the items I ordered were supposed to be delivered today by 1 pm; it's quarter to three and no sign of my stuff. Typical.) So I am angry, and irritated, and depressed. I wanted those shoes. I had two whole outfits planned specifically around those shoes. And it's not worth it to try going to some Next stores, because the physical stores are typically the size of my bedroom and contain a few sad sale items and some broken sunglasses, and that's about it. (Of course having said that I'm probably going to try anyway.) So there you go. It's just turning into one of those weeks, for one reason or another, and the shoes are the final straw. Sigh. |
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I totally get you. It's a motherfucking tragedy. Many a day I've gone shopping and left completely depressed. Mine is weight-related rather than accessibility.
Guess what? They've got tons of stores where you're headed.
True, Travis, very true. I should have a look.
They have tons of stores in Hell, Mark? AWESOME! Lol. I hear you on the depressing weight-related shopping though. I've lost a lot of weight but I'm still short-waisted with no boobs and a floppy two-pregnancy tummy.
Man, I really go out of my way to turn people off, don't I? Next I'll start talking about the one wiry hair that insists on growing under my chin, and how I pluck it every week but it keeps coming back.
Oops.
Stacia... I have a chin hair too!! It's so traumatic! I was 26, scratching my chin and felt something weird there...
But that's a horrible story. I remember one time I ordered a tshirt from the Disney store online. It has Miss Piggy and Kermie on it and said 'Kissy Kissy'... it was even pink, but I loved it THAT much!
It was a kid's shirt. I went back online... it showed up under women's clothing. It was a Kids. Shirt. I still have it... I got an extra large. I'm hoping once I lose weight (yes, I've been holding on to it for like 2 years) then I'll be able to wear it. But it's a Kids. Shirt. So mad. Erg!!
Oh God...I feel your pain and Mark's because I have been places where the sales person has actually said Oh we don't carry your size....neat eh? Yesterday I tried a pair of boots on at Fluevog and the sales person said we don't have any boots that will fit your calf without a severe stretching..I have NEVER heard that one before..sigh..oh and menopause....seriously.chinhair-o-rama..my life...
You want a fun one? I went bridesmaid shopping with a friend (she was buying, I'm just good at helping pick the right size) and we're plus size, right? You know how The Man oh so kindly puts that giant W behind the size?
The sales girl (a 17 year old stick) says 'Oh, you need size 18 WIDE?'
*headdesk*
I was like 'Honey, if you don't want to alienate your customers, you will learn to call it 'WOMEN's. NOT. WIDE.'
She looked at me like a deer in headlights. I could have smacked her. I think she was low on air.
18 wide... heheheheh. that made me giggle. wide. Oh dear. I like that.
Maybe I'll hang an orange triangle on my ass to denote I'm a slow moving vehicle, too. LOL
And Stacia - I completely understand what you're saying. It's precisely why I do not ever shop from catalogues. Used to, but no longer. Ever.
Ha! When I went with my soon-to-be (at the time) SIL to look for bridesmaid's dresses, one of the ones the SIL picked was strapless.
So I tried it on. And I looked in the mirror, and I thought, "Oh! This actually looks pretty good!"
So I left the little fitting room, and the salesgirl comes over, looks at me, and says "We're going to need to take that in because you're just not big enough on top to fill it."
I'd chime in, but I'm fashion impaired. Clinton and Stacey (or Trinny and whatsername) could probably have a month's worth of episodes from my jeans-and-striped-collared-shirt collection.
Shoes are evil, sweetie. Look at what they do to our feet.