Mall-ady (mall shopping disorder)

So The Teenager had to meet a friend at the mall-ady, and The Associate required new clothes.  Her knees exploded out of her last pair of printed skinnies and winter is just gearing up to keep us inside.  I usually avoid the mall like the plague, especially after my last trip to Forever 21.  Floral onesies, oversized jackets, acid wash and tiny Keith Haring skirts?  I can see that the fabric was licensed from his foundation but I see no evidence of his cause or of the man’s life and career, a missed opportunity and part of the larger contagion.  I suppressed my nausea and off we went.

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We fell into the Gap Kids and headed to the back.  I used to pretend that I was looking everywhere in the store, but I no longer bother to keep up this charade,  clothing prices are inflamed and infected and I refuse to pay full price.  We probed the sale rack and extracted some samples.  Carefully we peeled back the stickers to expose the original price, the sale price, and on a day like today the additional % off that price.  I had her do some math and I watched her big brain bang around in her little head and then the eyes pop. Oh….  Next stop, the fitting room.  I remain patient because she wants no help from me, and insists I watch while she struts out with each new combination. We are able to purchase everything she likes because of the super low prices and She almost expires from excitement. On our way out her eye caught a rack of headbands, which she needs because she is growing out her pesky bangs. She inspected a headband, checked the price, then peered at me behind her fringe and exclaimed (a little to loud) that “This little, cheap, fake rhinestone headband is 9.95! No thanks!” and pranced out.

So proud. I may recover from this mall-ady after all.

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