As a subtopic of my last post involving shopping in the mall, I’ve decided to highlight the store at the mall that I hate the most. I want to go on the record that I think hate is a strong word, and I’d never just throw that out there without backing my statements up. Every facet of this store screams “The Emperor’s New Clothes” personified. Let me elaborate:
(This picture couldn’t make me laugh more, because why exactly are they Jewish? I don’t remember that part of the story….)
First of all, do not act like you can waltz in there with just any major credit card and make a purchase. You will be snarkily greeted with a $8.50/hour worker who apparently moonlights as judge and jury to the value of other human beings, saying “I’m sorry. We only accept Neiman Marcus credit cards or American Express, thank you”. This will be the first instance that you realize your Visa, Discover and Master Cards are apparently on par with the refillable charge card that is sponsored by Baby Phat and simply using Monopoly money as currency.
If you’re fortunate to have the Amex, please continue shopping. If you’re not interested in laying down a ton of cash, the kind folks at this establishment have obliged for the downturn economy and set up a “Under $100” table. This is where you can buy a small, pear scented votive candle, paperweight, or a rhinestone picture frame that is so small that the only picture I have that will fit into this contraption is, unfortunately, my drivers license picture. Cute. And all for the rock bottom price of “under $100” before taxes. Besides the fact that all these items couldn’t be crappier, I’m pretty sure my mom can get them all for you at Tuesday Morning. And even then, she’d probably try to talk you out of something so tacky.
As you meander over to the shoes, be forewarned. The designers of these shoes, in cahoots with the buyers for this store, are completely crazy pants this year. As most people know, far be it from me to disrespect the designers of fine footwear. I would be a hypocrite since I will consistently be able to justify a $700 pair of shoes should the need arise. And to be fair, they’re an investment piece you can give to your grandchildren. But this year, they’ve gone banana hammock. (I know the phrase is actually “bananas”, but I never get the chance to say “banana hammock” otherwise, so I just use that instead).
Let’s start with these little beauties:
First of all, maybe you don’t wear them to the airport. Because you’re going to have about 30 buttons per shoe to undo and then redo. If you’re not familiar with the challenges that face you in the security line, please see my post referencing this excursion and leave your thigh-high olive-drab suede 4 inch heel boots at home. Or leave them anyways as I cannot for the life of me puzzle-piece together an outfit that would warrant this item.
Chanel: Stop trying to channel Mrs. Havisham from Great Expectations. Really? Lace rain boots? No, I am not getting married in a puddle, and no I am not 86 years old. Lace is not appropriate. Ever.
_________________________________________________________________________________
The only thing this monstrosity could possibly accompany is a set of large black men attempting to dress like white, blonde socialites. Yes, this shoe is only to be featured on “White Chicks” with the Waynes Brothers. Calm Down pink velvet and rhinestones.
Ohhh we’re back to Chanel. Karl Lagerfeld, I love you to death, but all those diet cokes have impaired your design capabilities. Did you really just create the love child of the CLASSIC Chanel ballet flat and a cork board and call it a day?
And THIS shoe is the quintessential offence to me. A kitten heel. Stop pussy footin’ around with your 1 ½ inch excuse for a heel, calling yourself a girl. Kitten heels are disgusting. If you’re main goal in life is to achieve the perfect cankle (which is a calf that flows into an ankle with no apparent sign of circumference reduction) then more power to you. And let’s top this little beauty off with a tie dye theme.
The list really goes on for this store. I will only venture into this horrid establishment if I feel like making fun of items or they have a shoe sale (FAR, FAR away from the Chanel section apparently). In conclusion, I would like to point out one major point that is apparently escaping all Neiman Marcus employees. You’re not Saks Fifth Avenue. They’re too busy being more high end than you and accepting all major credit cards. Across the street.
No comments:
Post a Comment