My Queendom for a Chair
By Dena Amoruso
One mother's take on the
exasperating phenomenon of shopping for clothes for their teenaged daughter
It seems like such a small thing; something not even
worth writing about. To the mother of a teenaged daughter, however, it's larger
than life, more important than the balance on the checking account, bigger than
a breadbox -- you name it. It's a retail store with a comfortable chair in
which to rest my mommy-weary, hag with the debit-card bones for a teenage
marathon shopping trip. I use the word "marathon" loosely, because
every clothes shopping trip with a fifteen year old is a marathon.
Times were simple just a few years ago. I could
solitarily (and in peace) shop the girl's clothing section at Macy's for a few
necessary pairs of shorts, a cute t-shirt with little flowers encircling the
neckline, and 5 pairs of crew socks. I could then come home with my treasures
and watch my daughter grow out of them without a lot of fanfare. Enter the
pre-teen years. I could see life as we know it change, but remained in denial
for as long as sanely possible. She now was beginning to understand color,
style, cut, and fit to each garment. But, because she was between girls' sizes
and the "junior" department, there wasn't (thankfully) all that much
to choose from. And I thought "this ain't too bad!" when I heard
hormonal horror stories from mothers with daughters older than mine.
But God doesn't deny, he only delays. Fast
forward to age 14. If I happened to stop by Target to pick up a few odds and
ends with my daughter in tow, it's as if she'd rather wear a
moustache-and-glasses disguise than have any friends she my happen upon think
she shops for clothes there. Now the "big mall" stores of choice are
J.Crew, Abercrombie & Fitch, and Express, none of which have any item of
substance ticketed for less than $40. In these bastions of pocket-emptying
merchandise, my daughter works her way around every rack, dubbing some items
"cool" and others "uncool" among the hoards of well-made,
but colorless clothing. After about 45 minutes of this, she is ready for the
fitting room and, in quite adult-like fashion, orders the sales person to
unlock a fitting room for her.
Having been banished from fitting rooms long
ago, I look for that store-with-a-heart type refuge in which to sink. And what
do I see? A lonely, hard-bottomed card table chair outside the fitting room
door. With another mother sitting in it.
Do I feel Bohemian enough to sit cross-legged
upon the clothing display. My jeans don't stretch that far any more. So I ask
you. For the sacrificed merchandising space lost to comfortable chairs or even
-- God forbid! -- a sofa, how much more money would stores like these make on
mothers grateful for a place to sit? I could place bets on this until the cows
come home. In my fantasies, I can think of even more innovative ways of
pleasing package-laden, checkbook-toting moms. Offer them a cool drink? Remove
and re-hang their daughters' rejects while the person in a position to buy
stock in their store relaxes?
I know I may be dreaming, but I've gotta think
retailers haven't thought this trade off through, or else they would be doing
something about it. Like Dennis Miller says, "I don't want to get off on a
rant here." I just want to sit down.
Now writing articles on women's issues,
Dena Amoruso is an already established real estate columnist, specializing in
issues surrounding newly constructed homes. She has had regular articles in
both Northern and Southern California newspapers, and writes twice weekly for
the web's largest real estate news site, RealtyTimes.com.
Recently, she began writing satire, comment, and
observation on women's issues for WAHM.com (Work at Home Moms)reflecting on her
roles as a wife, mother, and "Baby Boomer" as the new millenium
begins.
She hopes her readers can relate to her musings, and
encourages feedback as she enters this new phase of her writing career.
E-mail: REritr@aol.com
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