Size DOES Matter

So, feeling particularly guilt-ridden after an unseemly Gumdrop Incident (we are talking fistsful of gummy, sugary goodness), I squeezed into my walking gear and headed out for a brisk trot around the 'hood. Never mind that I would have to walk to Sydney, Australia and back to undo the damage wrought by the Gumdrop Incident, Rome was not built in a day, people. (And no, walking to Rome would not be far enough.)

Off I headed. I was woman, hear me roar. Or at least hear my thighs rubbing together, whispering gumdrop-flavoured recriminations with every step.

After a brief stop at the Gladstone to get a copy of their Harvest Tasting schedule (off to do some tasting with my honey, BP and SB in October-- we don't trust the food at the Gladstone enough to commit to a prix fixe, so we have to wait for the October tasting event), I strode purposefully onward. Until I saw it. A NEW SHOP. Yes, just the kind of gem that appeals to wannabe hipsters like me: exposed brick walls, groovy driftwood in place of racks for the clothes, funky stuff designed by two local arty types, all of it ridiculously overpriced. In short, if they had carried shoes, it would have been my version of crack cocaine. As it is, it was pretty close.

Inside, it only got better: I liked the clothes and even an elderly lady like me could get away with wearing some of it. It looked edgy, sort of street, but also sort of French. My ardour cooled only slightly when I began to suspect that the uberhipster owner/designer woman was not going to deign to speak to a walking-gear-wearing schlub like me.

I soldiered on. Before long, I had fallen for a very high-waisted, sculptured skirt in black. Unable to find a price tag, I scoured the racks for another one so I could see how much it cost. After several fruitless minutes of searching on my part, during which time, Uberhipster Girl studiously ignored me, I wandered over to her and forced her to make eye contact with me. Yes, me-- the ONLY person in the store besides her. I inquired politely as to the price of the skirt. Making clear that she really did not want to trouble herself to find out, she did eventually let me know it was $160. Perfect! Totally pretentiously overpriced! Yay! This store was getting cooler by the second. Next, I asked if there were more (as there were only two left, and only one looked like it would fit me).

Arching her eyebrow and curling her lip simultaneously, she said, "They fit really SMALL."

Um. Okay. Not the answer to my question, though, is it?

A bit taken aback, but full of a raging tide of guilt and self-loathing as a result of aforementioned Gumdrop Incident, I managed to gulp, "Uh. Okay. This one says it's a ten?"

Continuing to sneer (clearly my very presence was causing her serious pain and suffering), she drawled, "Weeeeeeeeeelllllllll, it miiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiight work........."

Right. Okay.

Message received.

Skirt replaced on rack with a promise from me that I would be back for it when more appropriately equipped and attired for shopping, I continued on my way.

You know that scene in Pretty Woman in which the snotty salesladies on Rodeo Drive spurn Vivian and all her sugar-daddy credit cards? Then, Hector Elizondo's character sets her up with the personal shopper and Vivian goes back to the store and reminds the bitchy ladies of who she is, pointing out that they have made a "Big mistake. Huge." ?

Um, Uberhipster Girl? Big mistake. Huge.

Interested in the store? So you'll know where to go when self-flaggellation is not enough and you need some complete stranger to not want your money badly enough that she insults you? Check them out at www.leagueofloversandthieves.ca. At least online, they can't be rude to you.