February 22, 2008

Heaven help me, I found Theory

Ladies, gentlemen, have you ever been into a store where a salesperson took a look at you, sized you up, and starting excitedly pulling various articles of clothing from racks and the back room for your perusal? And then have him or her create completely unexpected outfits from a variety of shapes and colors to make you look more professional, chic, and I’m-not-really-trying than you’ve ever looked in your life?

Neither had I.

Yesterday, I wandered into a Theory shop just to look at the mannequin outfits more closely and meant to walk right back out. Instead, Bosses both followed me in, chatting about business, and started looking at things too. The salesman must have thought “Score! She’s got two sugar daddies!” and jumped right into chatting us up about sizes. It was the total opposite of a Pretty Woman-esque scene, except more humiliating because that place is v-e-r-y expensive and I had no intention of buying.

Instead of making my escape, I experienced the slightly mortifying transformation from my “twenty something in jeans, nice-ish $25 top, nice-ish on sale for $35 blazer, trying to look pulled together for actual professional job” outfit to a “chic, sophisticated, costs more than I make in two weeks but it’s so sharp!” ensemble. That’s right. We moved right out of the realm of outfits thrown together by a less than discerning eye into ensembles.

I know it’s his job, and all he had to choose from were high-end, high priced pieces to create the ensembles so the odds were stacked in his favor, but it was still disconcerting how quickly he managed to fill a sizable dressing room with pieces that individually cost more than the entire contents of my duffel bag for this trip.

I tried on this lovely beige jumper type dress with a series of buttons down the front and cute little kangaroo pouch pocket. He accessorized it with a pair of flats and a few belts, teaching me the four-square knot because “since Casablanca, no one actually buckles their belts anymore.” I’ve already forgotten how to tie the knot. *sheepish*

Then, there was this knock-’em-over-you’re-so-swank get-up. The trench coat alone cost $495. The tank top underneath that button down shirt cost $90. I can only speculate that the other pieces, the shirt, the pants, and the shoes, in between those two layers were also priced in between their prices because I didn’t dare look. Lightheadedness might have been induced by wearing my net worth in clothes 😉

While I was thoroughly impressed at the salesman’s ability to actually make me look put together, I was equally embarrassed that he was going to all that trouble when I couldn’t afford a single thing I was wearing. Oy! Admittedly, I wouldn’t go broke buying the tank top, or even an entire outfit, but there is no way on this green earth I was going to trash my budget to assuage window shopper’s guilt. I definitely felt bad for wasting his time, but I was still not forking over my rent.

I didn’t take pictures of the other dresses I tried on, but they were gorgeous and $300 each. $300!! Oh, a couple were $265. Little Boss had the audacity to say, “ohhh that’s not bad for a dress! If it were $400, that’d be too much.” As if that man doesn’t sign my paychecks! And Big Boss gave me a lecture on how $365 was a steal for the stunning, single-button, white suit jacket I’d found. A lecture! I wanted to shake them both. There I was, feeling rightfully guilty over a nearly $40 dress, and they were lecturing me on how this or that piece is an investment. Obviously I’d wear that trench coat for 20 years, I’d have to! But I can’t amortize the BILL over 20 years as well. Ok, I’m ranting.

Anyway. I swooned over a few of the pieces I tried, but it’s definitely tempered by the embarrassment of having to walk out because that’s just way too far above my pay grade. I could honestly say that I couldn’t decide what I wanted more because it was overwhelming, but it’s just not reasonable to spend that much in the name of looking professional. Not on this salary and with these troubles at home.

It’s customer service like that that makes it hard to resist the pull of lifestyle inflation and remember how much I love to think to myself “it only cost $not much.00” if someone compliments what I’m wearing. Someday, perhaps, I’ll have collected enough Macy’s gift cards to visit the San Francisco Macy’s and buy an “investment” piece made by Theory, but until then, it’s back to the more pedestrian shops (or no shopping at all!) for simple me.