Department Sore

Since the hater in me is alive and well, I thought I could share the next leg of my journey into the bewilderment of things I hate.

I hate department stores. I know lame, right??

You see, I grew up being a mallrat, just because, in a small town, that's all there is to do. I also did not know the beauty of boutiques, resale/thrift shops and all the rest in the bevy of the unknown for duds of the wunderkind.

I love clothes, but what I really love are random clothes. Its kind of like being a well of useless knowledge, but it also reigns in my world of clothing. I like the odd and weird and pairing them with the norm. And of course, I love vintage anything, but that's a whole other story.

Anyway. I decided today to look nice. I am going out this evening and chose a comfy but cute dress that looks even better with my favorite black boots. I am a boot girl. Stevie Nicks, the COOLEST woman in rock n roll and possibly evar, got me started on my obsession with boots. I used to have a zillion pairs. Now I have six. They are all black. They are all different. Today's boots are/were the "nice" ones. Fabric-y, stretchy, cozy with a mad heel. Only today, the left heel isn't mad -- it's PISSED.

A few weeks back, I had a weekend of debauchery with a group of my friends and I believe I dropped my vacuum cleaner on the base of my left boot. Yes, long story, different day, but yes. I did it.

And now I have a wonky boot heel. I walked into work this morning feeling the unsteadiness on my left. As the day bore on (and I mean "bore" on) I felt it more and more. After careful inspection and a few crackily shakes, the heel is 'off' -- not quite, but on its way.

While I am opting to fix it, in the meantime I thought I would trot on down to Macy's at the Century City Mall. I don't mind this mall. It's outdoors. There is no pressure. It's not like that mall I call Alcatraz -- the Beverly Center. (After almost six years in this town, I can't park near "Alcatraz" -- it scares me. No windows, no air, no light -- NO WAY. The closest I've gotten is St. Nicks Pub down the street. Fun bar :) Anyway.

I drove to the mall. Parked my metal box of torture and headed upward. The mall is very nice. You don't have to actually go into stores, its just good people watching and star-sightings. But I was on a mission. I browsed thru the make-up department, sprayed some ginger essence and headed on up.

Floor Two is women's shoes. When I arrived, I started my descent into Hell. I was overwhelmed. Dizzy even. Shoes were everywhere, on little leveler-thingys and set out amongst one another like little gangs. After teetering over with the vast amounts of shoeage surrounding me, I hustled among the shoes, to note that there were no boots, not ONE pair. In fact, there weren't even any closed-toed shoes. Sandals mocked me. Flip-flops (very expensive ones, at that) flipped me off in only a way a summer shoe could. I even tried on a pair of open-toed shoes, but realized it was all just wrong, wrong, wrong.

A saleslady came up with her little bespectacled face to ask if I needed help (no comment) and when I asked about boots, she chuckled in only a way an older, condescending woman could and said, "Sweetie, this store is seasonal. It's practically Summer".

I call that seasonal-unreasonable.