What I Miss About Shopping

Months of COVID isolation without the option to shop left me examining my shopping habits. Over time it became clear that my shopping was spurred on by a consumer driven reflex, and not because I needed any more clothes.

I realized what I miss more than purchasing a cheap Chanel knock-off are my shopping companions. Shopping for me, like for many women, is a bonding experience. We delight in sharing our sale bargains, or in helping one another pick out an outfit for a special occasion.

Growing up, once a year my mother and I would take the train from Harrisburg, Pa. to Manhattan for a mother-daughter day of shopping. A highlight of the trip was lunch at Lord and Taylor’s Bird Cage, where we ate dainty chicken salad sandwiches before perusing the clothes racks. At home my mother regarded shopping as something to be done efficiently.  You went to a shoe store for shoes and then raced home. During our New York City trips, we shopped leisurely while I relished in my mother’s undivided attention.

The Bird Cage at Lord and Taylor’s, c. 1950’s

My maternal grandmother was another story. Nana loved to shop. She coveted matching jewelry sets and big hats.  Our favorite destination was Pomeroy’s Department Store where our first mark was the jewelry department.  We would shamelessly try on one necklace after another until Nana had her fill, never embarrassed that she hadn’t bought anything.  Next we’d move on to the hat department, once again breezing through their inventory.  Nana taught me that shopping was fun.

Pomeroy’s Dept. Store in the 1950’s

Another conspiratorial shopping experience I remember was meeting my college friend Laurie at Macy’s cosmetic counter during a summer vacation. Laurie showed me how to get made up for free by applying the store’s sample make-up offerings.  Decked out in shimmering eye shadow and fire engine red lipstick, we bolted, giggling all the way to the exit.

Macy’s Cosmetic Counter, c. 1970’s

In my 30’s I fell in love with vintage clothes. I had a close friend who shared my affection for ‘40’s move star attire.  I remember a fall day in Upstate New York, with toddlers in tow, parsing through used clothes in the Catholic Church’s clothes closet, and scoring dramatic, albeit slightly shabby, shoulder-padded jackets.

Years later, when visiting Boston, I stopped at the famous Filene’s Basement. Crushing mobs of women attacked marked-down designer clothes piled in large bins.  No one wanted to lose their place by trying clothes on in the dressing rooms, so we stripped in the middle of the store, offering verdicts to one another, like, “That looks great on you,” or “Put it back. That’s not your color.” Sisterhood was both competitive and supportive at Filene’s.

Filene’s Basement, c. 1970’s

When my widowed mother was 80, she phoned me, in a tizzy, because she didn’t have anything to wear to an upcoming gala, imploring me to go shopping  with her. At Bonwit Teller Mother tried on a few dull conservative dresses, but picturing her in something grand to show off her thin, elegant frame, I coaxed her into trying on an apricot chiffon dress with an attached scarf. Mother smiled at her reflection in the mirror, but wasn’t convinced until the sales clerk and I insisted she looked beautiful, sealing the purchase. It was heart-warming to make my mother happy in this simple way.

Swearing off buying new clothes doesn’t mean that I have to miss out on the bonding experience afforded by shopping.  My 16 year-old granddaughter dresses in a highly individual way, favoring thrift store clothes paired with her original neon-colored jewelry. Jane is partial to a second hand store a block from my Portland home. We’ve made plans to schedule Face Time where I will pick out items for Jane and she will offer a verdict from her bedroom in Oak Park, Illinois.  Not quite like the in-person experience I had shopping with my grandmother, but hey, it’s a whole new world.

Granddaughter Jane styling in thrift shop clothes and her handmade jewelry