Friday, January 02, 2009

I seem to have somehow inadvertently become posh. In a bad way.

The mission was simple: try on every pair of red heels in Yorkdale. (It's not as onerous as it sounds - there's only a few per store, some are ruled out automatically based on their pencil-thin heels or other characteristics that I can tell at first glance are unworkable, many aren't available in double-digit sizes. I think only about half a dozen pairs got as far as my attempting to squeeze my feet in.) As I'm doing that, I see a number of other interesting shoes, but I really don't feel like trying them on. Why? Not because trying on is annoying (which is my usual reason) but because being in the crowds is annoying. There were just so many people around - loud people, slow people, people with kids, tourists - and I was frustrated with navigating through these annoying crowds who seemed to want to do everything but efficiently shop for one specific item.

As I dodged my 12th stroller-pushing cellphone-talker who had decided to come to a full stop right in front of me, I found myself thinking of a time earlier this year when I had ventured into a small designerish store on Queen West. The store is quite clearly several orders of magnitude cooler than anyone I've ever met will ever be, the prices are really pushing the topmost limit of what could be at all justified (even under my new Shut Up And Buy It Already policy), and it was the kind of place that's set up so you have to have to get personal attention and can't just casually browse. But one item they had really intrigued me and was actually reasonably priced (for good reason - it turned out it didn't fit) so I went. I really had to muster up every ounce of bravery and go in emoting a "Fuck you, I am SO cool enough to be in here" vibe (it was so cool I can't even put together a single outfit that's cool enough - I had to aim for "I'm so cool I don't even need to make an effort to dress cool"). So I went in, inquired knowledgeably about the one item I was looking for, and was assisted by some very attractive and perky gay men who were incredibly knowledgeable about the products.

So as I was making my way through Yorkdale, it occurred to me that I could go back to this little store, tell them what specific characteristics I need, and sit back and relax as they brought me every shoe in the store that might meet my specifications and used their expert knowledge of the products to find something that will work for me. And the thought did cross my mind that it might be worth the extra money just to not have to deal with the crowds and the frustration of constantly explain no, really, I do want to try it on in the largest size you have, seriously, my feet are that big and probably bigger, and no, an 8 won't do, I haven't fit into an 8 since I was like 9 years old.

So it seems I've somehow become the kind of person who is willing to spend extra money to be waited on hand and foot and not have to deal with the proletariat. This is not good. I don't want to be that kind of person.

7 comments:

laura k said...

So it seems I've somehow become the kind of person who is willing to spend extra money to be waited on hand and foot and not have to deal with the proletariat. This is not good.

Are you sure it's not good? Even if you only do it once in a while?

Cause I am a proletariat, but I still do this sometimes. Different circumstances, but same idea.

I think of it as giving myself an extra treat.

impudent strumpet said...

I'm not comfortable with setting the precedent of buying myself better treatment as a treat. I'm okay with buying material goods as a treat, but buying better treatment seems kind of, I don't know, uppity? Nouveau riche? I don't want to create a precedent where I'm dreading shopping at perfectly normal mall stores because I'll have to deal with Those People.

laura k said...

Hm yes, you have a point there. Without realizing it, I've been doing that for quite a while, especially in regards to where I get my hair done.

OTOH, I hardly ever treat myself to material goods - I'm more into service. So if I didn't let myself get that, I'd be doing the self-denial thing, which I hate.

But I do see your point. And it makes me uncomfortable!

impudent strumpet said...

Well I'm certainly not one to talk about the cost of hairdressing. If it's something very personal that involves physical contact or vulnerability on my part or has a lasting effect on my appearance, I go as high-end as I can get away with or I do it myself at home.

This probably bears re-examining, but I doubt it would change anything. I can do most beauty stuff myself adequately, so I'm only going to pay for something that I'm certain is going to be far better. If the money isn't there, I'll do it myself and not put myself at the mercy of a total stranger. It's probably uppity and unsocialist, but that seems to be where my threshold is.

Sarah Haendler said...

I'm not so sure about that - part of what you are paying for here isn't the posh treatment but the knowledgeable staff. I see the point with regard to the avoidance of the proles, and I would find myself judging and rejecting that, but I'm never ashamed to spend slightly more to shop in a place where the staff actually knows what they are talking about. That's a valuable service, as opposed to an excess. Those guys probably get paid better than the guys working at the other shops where less is expected of them, and justifiably so.

Perhaps we should consult the karmameter.

impudent strumpet said...

I love that justification, but unfortunately it doesn't work when you're size 11 and shopping for red shoes. It's "Can I get my foot into this shoe? (y/n)" No expertise needed.

But maybe I'll go there for my next pair of black boots.

laura k said...

I would love to be able to do my hair myself. I'd love to spend $0 on my hair. But I'm not willing to live with the results of that.